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greenygreenland · 3 years

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Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times.

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable?

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try. Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--

#tpn #tpn norman x reader #tpn ray #tpn emma #ynn norman #ynn emma #ynn ray #ynn isabella #ray the promised neverland #emma the promised neverland #norman the promised neverland #the promised neverland x reader #anime x reader #x y/n #fanfic #tpn fanfic

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fiction-boys-rule · 3 years

Text

Your Love-Fueled Soldier

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x non-gender specific reader (established relationship)

Warnings: extreme violence, mentions of death, torture, slight gore

Word Count: 2,865

Summary: When a job backfires on the team, Eliot and you find yourselves in a dangerous situation. But who will pay the ultimate price?

I felt like tormenting y'all, so here you go. Beware of the warnings for this one please. This is non-gender specific for the reader and I made it as general and inclusive as I could. Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy :)

Eliot's laugh is something you would give almost anything just to hear more often. Especially when it is a reaction to something you had said. You don't remember what you had said to make him laugh, as you sit on the floor against a wall. All you know is that sound in itself brought such warmth and joy to you. More than you could ever imagine. You reach over and grip Eliot's hand, wishing for him to squeeze it back. All you know is you would give anything to hear it now. They weren't supposed to be able to find you. Hardison said he had the building under surveillance. Nate said you were safe. They lied.

Eliot's laugh had erupted from him like lava from a volcano, his arm had gripped you tighter as his body folded. You had laughed along with him, enjoying that you were able to put him at ease with the current situation. As you rounded the corner of the hallway, your body had let out a rough gasp as Eliot's arm forcibly crushed you to his body even more.

You had let out a short protest before your eyes met the sight in front of you.

More than two dozen men, armed and clothed for combat. The man in front looked both of you over, his gaze like steel. His hand held his gun steadily. The tattoos on his neck and his demeanor made you shiver. The way Eliot was holding you confirmed your suspicions.

They were not here to rough you up a little bit. They were here to kill you.

Somehow, the team had not found out about the criminal ties of your mark. Somehow, this one had slipped. Your mark had disappeared, the combined skills of the team ending in no newfound information on his whereabouts whatsoever. This mark was good, and it scared you. Nate's constant assurances hadn't calmed any of you, so Hardison agreed to find makeshift safehouses for the time being. Nate and Sophie had one, Parker and Hardison had one, and Eliot and you had agreed to pair up as well. Nate said splitting up would be for the best. Until things were figured out.

One week, Nate had said. One week for the mark to show any trace, and if not, Nate would be pulling all of you from the job.

You had all thought he was just a coward who got spooked and scurried off to who knows where, but now you know you were all terribly wrong. He had gone for reinforcements.

You have no idea how the hell they had bypassed Hardison's security. But you knew that if they were good enough to kill, they were going to make sure to finish the job without any interruptions or possible suspicion on them or their investments.

The man talked in a foreign language you didn't understand, commanding other men forward. The way Eliot didn't move forward did not do anything to give you more hope.

Before you knew it, shots rang out. You screamed, holding Eliot's body as he stumbled. He hit the floor, and your hands and eyes moved over his body. He was bleeding quickly. One in his shoulder, another in his leg, and the other grazed his head.

They weren't missing by accident. They were elongating this enough to give you a merciless and painful death.

You cried, your hands cradled Eliot's head. His eyes looked up at you, a painful expression in them. He almost looked scared, doubtful almost. As if he couldn't believe that this was happening. They had caught you off guard, and you were both going to pay for it.

Eliot never goes down.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and violently heaved you from Eliot's body. His jaw and hands clenched as you were pulled from him, kicking and screaming. He had tried to sit up and grab you, but instead earned another bullet into his body. Your hands reached behind you to grab at your assailant's face. Your attack was cut short by another man punching your stomach, hard. The wind was knocked out of you, making you lower your hands.

You heard Eliot's screams, your heart broke at the sound of them. Even through his pain, he was pleading for you. For your life.

Eliot had always prioritized teaching the team basic self defense skills, you knew that much. But after you had begun your relationship, he continuously encouraged you to participate in his self defense lessons and always made you practice sparring with him. You knew he was afraid of something happening to one of you if he wasn't there. But for you, this fear seemed to grow tenfold. You had been annoyed at his protectiveness and determination at first, but had slowly grown to be grateful for it, knowing it was his way of keeping you safe and showing his love for you. If you hadn't been so in shock and sure that you were both going to die, you might have actually tried to put those skills he taught you to use.

Shock is a funny thing. It paralyzes you, muting your mind's screams to your body to just do something, anything.

Love is a funny thing. It can completely shock you to life, or shatter you to your core. Seeing Eliot there on the floor had both shocked and shattered you, leaving your mind and body in a numb and stagnant state. Hope had abandoned you as soon as you were ripped from Eliot's body. This was surely your end, though you wished it wasn't.

You were hurled to the floor, landing with a hard thud. Your head throbbed at the impact. You looked up to meet eyes with their leader, his body bending over you. His eyes stared at you as though you were an interesting object he was observing. Curious, but nonchalant. Almost as if he was entertained.

He spoke softly, and ran a finger up from your stomach to your chest. He poked your collarbone, making you flinch. Out of the corner of your eyes, you had seen men crowding over Eliot, kicking him. The man's hand closed over your throat, making your body lurch from the force. He immediately put immense pressure on it, ripping your oxygen flow from you immediately. You had croaked out, your hands feebly wrapped around his wrists in a despondent effort to release yourself from his grip. Your legs had flailed about, your body jerking with your movements. His grip never loosened once, nor did his stare waver. He was watching you, and he was enjoying it.

Your vision had started to go black at the edges and you could hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You hadn't wanted to die like this. But you had known the risk of joining the team. You just hoped the team would be able to go on without Eliot and you.

He was going to kill you. And there was nothing you could do.

Suddenly, through your blurry vision and hindered hearing, you had heard gunshots and had seen Eliot rising from the floor.

You knew Eliot wouldn't have gone down without a fight. But still, your heart went out to him. There were too many of them. It was impossible. The man's hold nor stare never faltered. You were seconds away from losing consciousness, and your life.

He was not trained to survive. He was trained to kill. He was trained to finish the job. He was trained to kill you, at all costs.

The gunshots had stopped, the only sound you had heard was your whimpers and deep gasps in despair.

Eliot was surely dead. Now you were next.

A gunshot rang out right above you, and the hands around your neck suddenly slackened. You could faintly feel liquid dripping onto your face. Everything had felt so vivid but so distant at the same time, the sudden return of your oxygen flow making you dizzy and disoriented. The man's body slumped on top of you, making you groan from the weight. Your throat stung, and your eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Your had tried to blink away the tears, and your eyes welcomed Eliot into your line of sight.

He looked half dead.

His clothes were bloody, so were his hands. His face had a hard expression on it, matching what he had just done. But his eyes had been the worst. They had a distant look in them, a steely gaze. He had looked at you as though you were a stranger, or an object. As though you meant nothing to him. You had never seen him like that before. His gaze moved down to the gun in his hands. He had disarmed it and thrown it across the floor. It looked as though the action was more robotic than a conscious effort. You knew he hated guns, you had never seen him use one before. He had then unceremoniously keeled over, falling to the floor again. Though he managed to catch himself with his hands.

You started to cry, looking over at him and willing the relief of him being alive to calm you.

He then leaned over, pushing weakly at the man still on top of you. Your hands responded at last, helping him to push. His body landed beside you, his blood on your shirt. Eliot's arms give out, his head falling back to land on the floor. You pushed yourself up from the floor despite your body's every protest and weakly moved over to Eliot. Your hands shakily caressed his cheek, your fingers running over his blood slicked skin and hair. His eyes stared at the ceiling, looking as though he was in another dimension.

That was when it hit you.

Eliot loved you. You had never fully understood what that entailed, despite what the team had repeatedly tried to hint at with their short suggestions.

Eliot loved you, just like the others. But his love for you was different. You had almost died, and Eliot too. But his body, mind, and soul went through a complete reset once he saw you on the brink of death. You realized then, as your hands caressed your detached lover, that every fiber of his being had made it his mission to save you.

To protect you. To keep you alive. Even if it cost his life.

Eliot was trained to survive, you knew that. But he was also trained to keep people safe. That was his job. And Eliot always did his job. No matter what. You were reminded of his secret past with Moreau, and how much he kept it from everyone because of what he did. What he had become.

Eliot had become what he hated most to save you.

He had turned off all of his emotions except for his anger, all of his morality, just to do what needed to be done. What he knew he could not do if he was not disconnected from reality.

You wondered if this was worse than what he did for Moreau.

You hated that your love, which you had thought to be such a beautiful and wonderful blessing, turned out to be the cause of such violence and torment by the hands of one man. One man that you loved so much, despite his constant thoughts about being not enough for you. Not good enough.

But some selfish part of you deep inside was secretly grateful that he was alive, even if it meant that this could produce unpredictable results. You hated that selfish part of you. The one that was too selfish to let him go, let him be at peace instead of having to live a life of mental affliction.

You couldn't imagine your life without him. And you didn't want to.

He had groaned, the first sound out of his mouth.

It wasn't a laugh, but it was enough.

You had moved his hair back from his face and ignored the blood. His eyes had closed, making a surge of newfound anxiety go through you. Your hands were still shaking, your breaths still uneven. But Eliot was alive. And that was enough for you.

Your eyes had caught sight of the blood seeping through the bullet wound in his leg. Your hands left his face, and instead they gripped your shirt and pulled it from your body. You tied it around his leg tightly to stop the blood flow, making him groan again. You had then apologized to him softly, your voice sounding out of place. Hoarse and weak.

You willed all of your remaining strength into surrounding his upper body with your arms to pull him into your lap. His hands laid limp at his sides. You felt his chest taking heavy breaths, the sweat drenching his shirt. The dark bruises present on his visible skin had made you afraid to see what other injuries were covered under his clothes. Some possible scars to remind him of this horrible day. Battle scars. But what had scared you the most was the thought of the mental trauma and non visible scars he will surely carry with him for the rest of his life. Knowing him, most of it will present itself in debilitating nightmares that come during the few hours he does manage to sleep. Ones where he allows himself to be a prisoner inside his mind and body. Hours spent without distracting himself with training or other activities and missions that allow the dark thoughts and memories to be kept at bay for the time being. Only you had known just how fearful he is of them. How crippling they were.

Your eyes looked up, as if your mind was suddenly made aware of where you were. Your eyes raked over all of the bodies, splayed out at irregular angles and bloody. There were so many. You had no idea how Eliot had done it. It honestly scared you. His determination when it came to you. What he was capable of.

Your love-fueled soldier.

As you had sat there, with your slowly diminishing adrenaline and your detached lover in your arms, you vowed to thank him for the rest of your life. Eliot always risked his life every day, without hesitation, for the team. But with you, it was different. Even at the end of the road, where hope was lost and death was certain, he didn't give up. Instead, it had seemed as though his body was shocked to life, energized from the injuries instead of shutting down. He had not risked his life for you today, he had shown that he was ready to give it, as long as it meant that you would live. Your hands tightened around him, vowing again and again in your mind that you would thank him every day. You knew the guilt would come eventually for you, especially on nights when the nightmares would come for him, crippling your soldier. But you also knew that if you were to ever let the guilt consume you, it would mean that Eliot's efforts would have failed. Because if there's one thing that you knew, it was that Eliot would need you more than ever after today. And you were more than happy to be with him for the rest of your life, no questions asked. On the good days, and the bad days too. You would show him just how thankful you were for him saving you, and in turn you would save him from himself. You would not let his own mental warfare take him from you, not as long as you would be there to love and support him.

A blinking red light on a camera caught your attention. You frowned up at it. It started to move up and down, as if saying yes. Comprehension washed over you, and had made more tears spring to your eyes.

Hardison.

Hardison was going to get help.

Everything was going to be okay.

Eliot was going to be okay.

You had looked back down to Eliot, a few of your tears fell on his face.

You leaned your forehead against his with a whimper, as if to say I'm sorry.

Your lips kissed his forehead, as if to say it's going to be okay.

Your hands moved to softly grasp his face, as if to say I'm right here.

Your lips kissed his softly, as if to say I love you.

You leaned your head on his chest and tightened your hold around his, as if to say I'm not leaving you.

You heard sirens wailing nearby, and you could not stifle the sudden sob that pushed its way out of you.

You sat up and leant your head back against the wall as your hands gripped the fabric of Eliot's shirt.

You looked over to the camera again and smiled through the tears. You did not have much more strength to do anything else but nod your head.

You reach over and grip Eliot's hand, wishing for him to squeeze it back.

He does.

#eliot spencer imagine #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #eliot leverage #leverage #leverage redemption

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warped-stem · 3 years

Text

so. my post about writing this at 3 am fighting off melatonin got exactly 2 notes. enjoy my sleepy angst :)

warnings for mentions of mutilation, vomit, and torture. wordcount 1.6k

When Sapnap goes to visit Dream again, he notices something off about Sam. He's flightier, less talkative. He barely meets Sapnap's eye the entire walk through the prison. When they finally get to the main cell, Sam warns him that Dream might not talk again. Sapnap nods in understanding, remembering the last time he saw him.

He isn't expecting Dream, once someone who stood tall and proud, whose presence demanded all of the attention in the room, to be curled into a shaking ball in the corner next to his chest. The shaking gets worse the closer the platform comes to the cell, and Sapnap can see the way Dream's jumpsuit is torn, the way there's blood staining parts that should by no means be bloodstained. Dream doesn't look up when Sapnap steps foot onto the obsidian, doesn't look up when the Netherite barrier drops, continues to not look up until Sapnap's hesitant voice bounces off the walls.

"Dream?"

This finally gets his attention, his head snapping up and dull green eyes meeting sparking red. Now Sapnap can take in the details that were hidden in Dream's arms. How his cheeks are hollow, how new scars trail across his face, some wounds barely healed from the poor environment.

Sapnap takes a step toward Dream, and his heart stops in his chest at the way Dream violently tries to sink into the wall behind him. So, Sapnap sits on the floor where he stands, keeping his eyes on the crumpled, shivering form of the once most powerful man on the server -- of his friend.

He doesn't move, even as Dream stops trembling again and looks back up, waiting for force that will never come. Slowly, once it seems Dream realizes Sapnap doesn't want to hurt him, he starts to unfurl from himself. His arms and legs are lacking the muscle mass Sapnap knew he once possessed, and the skin that's exposed is covered in dirt and blood and poorly healed injuries. It makes Sapnap sick to think about the damage he can't see, what's covered by layers of fabric, or worse, what's covered by skin and muscle.

It takes the better part of an hour for Dream to speak up, and Sapnap's heart splinters.

"What d'you want?" He sounds like he hasn't had anything to drink in months, his voice creaky and dry. His words, however few, are slurred and misshapen. It takes a second for the reason to click in Sapnap's head, having heard one of his own fiances have to adjust to his new speech impediment and lack of teeth on his own time. It makes his stomach churn.

"I wanted to see you. Check in on you, y'know? See how you're holding up." His voice is softer than he intended for it to be, more somber.

Dream looks like he doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. He just lets his body slump against the wall, bringing his legs back up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. It’s as he's staring off into middle space that Sapnap realizes one last thing about the way Dream looks, and it genuinely makes him want to throw up, or scream, or cry. Probably all three at once, if possible.

Several of Dream's fingers were reduced to stumps.

The entirety of his right pinky was gone, and he was missing about half of his right ring finger. The other three remained intact, but it was obvious he'll never be able to hold an axe again. His left hand was worse off. His ring finger was gone, and the pinky was cut down to the second knuckle, almost in a sick reverse of his right hand. He was also missing the tip of his middle and pointer fingers, his thumb spared yet again.

Sapnap chokes back a sob and has to turn away to keep his composure, forcing his tears and vomit back down. It takes him a few to steady his breathing and look back to Dream, only to find Dream looking at him first.

"What happened to you?" Sapnap sounded even more broken, a quiet plea slipping into his words. He wanted nothing more than to hold Dream like he did when they were younger, before all of the war and strife and bloodshed. Back when they were allowed to call each other brothers.

"Someone wanted information. I didn't give it up right away and he got violent." Dream tries to shrug, but the tremble in his shoulders makes it look more like a sick, shuddering laugh. Sapnap reluctantly notes that his earlier suspicions were correct, that Dream is now missing several of his teeth.

The temperature in the lava-covered room spikes as Sapnap's temper flares for a moment, before calming right back down into another unsettled roll of his gut.

"Who?" His response is choked, and he doesn't think he wants to know the answer.

Dream shakes his head frantically, tensing back up. The answer would destroy Sapnap, and Dream doesn't want that, so he keeps his mouth shut and his head down.

Sapnap wants names, though, and he's not leaving without one. He makes up his mind right then and there that there's something fucked up going on in Pandora's Vault, and he wants to get to the bottom of it. Even if Dream grew into a monster, he knew that no one deserved whatever physical abuse Dream's been going through.

"Is it Sam? Has he been doing this to you?" His voice shakes with fury, with sadness. Dream shakes his head again in response, before briefly shrugging.

"If it's not Sam, then he's at least letting this happen to you. Who the fuck would he let in here with- with whatever can do that much damage?"

"You don't wanna know, Sap." The 's' is whistled through the holes in his grimace, and he still refuses to meet Sapnap's eyes.

"I do. I need to know. I can't let them keep doing this to you." There's a few suspects running through his mind, but none of them beg for the anonymity Dream's allowing them.

Techno wouldn't torture someone, he's not that cold-hearted, and he'd have nothing to gain from repeatedly hurting Dream. Bad could easily do this damage, but even as he's controlled by the Egg, Sapnap knows he'd never lay a finger on Dream. Wilbur and Schlatt are dead, and Ghostbur wouldn't hurt a fly. Tommy'd pussy out before doing any serious damage, and even then, the kid was so heavily traumatized by Dream that all it would take for him to back down would be a threatening smile. He also can't see Ranboo hurting anyone intentionally, or Fundy coming back from wherever he'd run off to just to hurt Dream. Nearly everyone else was left untouched by Dream's influence. Foolish barely knew him, Connor was almost completely clueless, and Puffy thought that Dream didn't deserve to see her. Everyone else was too caught up in their own business to care, so that only really left a few possible people.

Sam, Ant, Punz, and Sapnap's least favorite answer, Quackity.

Dream already said it wasn't Sam, Ant was too busy with the Egg, and Punz was too apathetic to really care about what Dream had done to be motivated enough to mutilate one of his friends like this. That meant-

"Quackity. Is- is Quackity hurting you?" Sapnap's voice is far away, even to his own ears. He barely caught Dream's slow, shallow nod before he hides his face back in his knees.

It made sense, unfortunately. He hasn't seen Quackity in a while, spending most of his time building Kinoko Kingdom with Karl and George. It only really just hit him that they abandoned El Rapids to hastily move to the flower forest on the outer edge of the Dream SMP, leaving Quackity alone. No one had really heard from him in a long while, and Sapnap hadn't thought to keep tabs on him, trusting his fiance to keep out of trouble.

Apparently, that was too much to ask. Sapnap knew how ruthless Quackity could be when he wanted something bad enough, knew that he was an unstoppable force.

Dream's ragged breathing snaps Sapnap out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the present. Dream hadn't stopped shaking, but at least he was now looking at Sapnap again, gauging his reaction. Based on his breathing, he found something he didn't like.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pandas." His voice shook, tears threatening to spill out of dead eyes.

Sapnap doesn't respond, only standing. His shoulders slumped and his fists shaking at his sides. He takes a few strides across the cell before dropping down to his knees next to Dream, wrapping his arms around him.

They sit there like that for a while, crying and shaking. Dream was far too light for Sapnap's comfort, but that just made him hold on harder. Dream even snaked his arms around Sapnap's back in return, the dull nubs of his fingers trying to grip as much of his shirt as they could. Sapnap sobs.

He pulls back first, after both of them had spent all of their tears.

"I'm getting you out of here. Fuck what I said about taking your last life, you don't fucking deserve this." Sapnap knows his voice is rough, but the intense set of his eyes gives Dream enough reassurance to let go.

Sapnap stands, leaving Dream on the ground, and calls for Sam to let him out. He doesn't step away from Dream until he has to, and he makes a silent promise to make sure someone pays for this.

He ignores Sam the entire trip back through the prison, and his first thought after stepping back into sunlight is find Quackity.

#dreamwastaken #sapnap #dsmp #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #warped warbles #dsmp spoilers #dream smp spoilers #i don't know how to trigger tag this #uhhh basically dream's missing parts of 6 of his fingers if not the full finger #also i don't know how to tag this in general #im gonna need a fic tag now arent i???#warped writes #there we go #thanks to the literal 2 people who liked my post abt this here you go BDJSVDHA #also peep that lil headcanon about sapnap in there with the temperature thing :)#and excuse literally All of this i was so fuckin tired

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coexiising · 3 years

Text

Fade Into You - Chapter Three

SUMMARY ✦ You learn the truth about Lord Vader & disobey the Council's orders.

WARNING(S) ✦ choking (in a non sexual way)

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

The cup of tea placed in your hands had long run cold as you still sat in the middle of the ring of Jedi Masters. The Corscuanti sun was starting to peek just along the horizon, illuminating the room more and more with each passing second. It was easy to feel the tension in the room, thick enough to cut with a knife while every single Master kept their eyes on you, the only stop in their gaze was when they blinked.

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for under their watchful gaze, like they thought you were going to spontaneously combust or crack under the pressure. You thought that this was supposed to be the moment they told you everything. It wasn’t hard to notice that they were obviously keeping something big from you. Whoever this person was . . . Vader, he was something (or much rather, a Sith) that they knew about. But why were they keeping it a secret from the rest of the Order? Why would they keep something so dangerous like a new Sith a secret, when it was clear that there was something going on deep within the shadows of the Force.

You almost wanted to say something. Being in this silence was deafening in the worst way imaginable. Luckily, it seemed as though Obi-Wan had taken pity on you, and opened his mouth to say, “Well, should we get on with it?” The man looked tired, obviously having been woken up by your screams not even an hour ago. “She’s shaking.” Which you were, for the record, though you weren’t sure if it was because of their stares or the fact that you haven’t been getting much sleep in the past couple of days that you felt as though you were on the verge of collapse.

The droid who gave you the cup earlier came around again and refilled it. You attempted to settle your nerves by taking a sip of the warm drink.

“Keeping secrets, we have,” Master Yoda stated, his small green hand gesturing towards you. He sat within eyesight, so you could see the curiosity in his face. “But this connection . . . See, we did not.”

You looked at him quizzically. “What kind of connection are you talking about?”

“It is certain that the Force has drawn you and this Sith together, for what reason, we do not know,” Master Windu said. “Force wielders always have heightened dreams, but the fact that you are being connected to someone with such a dark power, it is troubling. We have to ask, have you been using the dark side of the Force, Knight Y/N?”

What, were you on trial now? Was this all just an elaborate game to try and get you to confess to something you weren’t even guilty of? You were a Jedi, bound to the light side of the Force and sworn to the Order, why would you ever even think about leaning towards the dark side of the Force? You were almost offended that he was asking, and that all the other Masters were listening intently, as though they were waiting for some kind of confession of guilt. You wished that this would all be over, you wanted things to go back to normal, before Vader, before everything.

“No, I haven’t been using the dark side of the Force, Master,” Your last word digging in rather harshly as your attention moved to the spot Windu sat. “Like I said before, I don’t know why these things are happening to me. I don’t know how I could’ve formed this connection with this ‘Vader.’ I haven’t even met him!” You tried not to scowl, because as much as you wished you could, Master Windu was still your superior.

“What does he say to you in these dreams. Does he ever mention a place?” Master Plo-Koon asks.

Your thoughts take you back to what Vader said about meeting him on Mustafar. If you told them that, then maybe they would send a team there and this would all be over with. Then everything would go back to the way things used to be. And you wanted that, though, you could feel yourself beginning to pull back from the idea. For some reason, it felt wrong for you to tell them what Vader had said, like you would be betraying him in some way. It astonished you, how you were thinking of reasons not to give away the location of a Sith. It was so unlike you, but everything about this was crazy. Which is why you looked down at your cup, your eyes watching a tiny tea leaf dance around in the water as you said, “No. He never said anything like that.”

You were waiting for one of them to catch you in the lie, though when you looked back up at the gazes of the Masters, they all seemed quite relaxed, like they didn’t even notice the quivering in your voice. Lying for a Sith . . . Perhaps it was the dark side after all.

“It took some strength to talk to him. But when I did, he said that he wasn’t influencing anything,” You said.

You heard Master Windu chuckle. “Well, he was certainly lying. How else could it have been formed? That doesn’t even make sense. If it wasn’t you, it had to be him.”

“Master, I don’t think that he was lying,” You told. “He never even tried to harm me-”

“A Sith is not to be trusted, Y/N,” He said. And maybe he was right. You probably sounded crazy trying to defend Vader.

Master Mundi sighed. “Still, we owe you an explanation. We knew that there was a presence of a new Sith for some time now. And with some of our sources in the Outer Rim, we’ve heard whispers of the name Vader. Only, we didn’t want to tell anyone until we were certain that there was something to tell. Now, with the presence of your dreams, it seems like it is now certain that we are dealing with another Sith.”

Another moment of silence fell upon you and the group of Jedi, not knowing what to say. You didn’t know if you were to be angry or to simply let it slide. Instead, you simply said, “Well, what do you think I should do about the dreams?” You would need to sleep at some point, and you didn’t feel like waking up a screaming mess every time that you attempted to get at least a few hours.

And the Masters all started talking, though not to you, amongst themselves. You could scream at the sheer annoyance of all of it, how they always did that. They always talked like you weren’t in the room with them, like you didn’t get a say on whatever they thought was right. Of course you understood that there was a hierarchy here, but it didn’t stop you from getting angry that these people had authority over you sometimes. It felt like an eternity of them talking, you silent and attention drifting off to other points in the room, then suddenly they all seemed to come to some type of conclusion.

You raised your eyebrow to say ‘well, what is it, then?’

“We want you to stay as far away from this Sith as possible. Obviously we cannot have control over your dreams, but do not engage him. And you will be staying at the Temple where you are safe. We do not know if this Sith will try and get you with him,” Master Obi-Wan told you. You looked at the ground, realizing that this meant you wouldn’t be allowed to go on any missions. It wasn’t ideal, especially with the Clone Wars raging on. You wanted to be where you were best: Bringing peace to the Galaxy. Though there was no arguing with the Council. They had made their decision and you had to live with it.

A few other words were passed until you were being ushered out of the room towards the elevator that led you back down to the center of the Temple. It was still early in the morning, there was no one in the hall when you stepped out into it and you could still feel the Force Signatures of several sleeping Jedi. You stopped in the middle of the hallway. To your left was your room, where you had been instructed to go to meditate before you started your day like usual. But to your right was the way to the hangar, where you could easily get onto a ship and get to the bottom of things on your own terms, knowing the exact location where the Sith was.

No. You had been specifically told to not engage the Sith at all. And that had been just in your dreams . . . It would be far worse if you were actually in the same place as him. But as much as you wanted to turn and go towards your room, it was as though the Force was pushing you the other way. It wanted you to go see him, as though you were both magnets trying to connect. You should be more scared at the fact that the Force, something unknown and completely under researched by even the most powerful of Jedi, was trying to get you to meet such a mysterious powerful man. Still, you felt a sense of calm wash over you thinking about going to Mustafar to see him. Maybe that was what you needed to do, maybe the second you met with him all of this could get figured out.

At least, you hoped.

So you started towards the right, making your way down the large hallways still huddled over in your large brown blanket. You made inventory in your head, knowing that there would be supplies of food rations and anything else needed for basic survival, and you already had your lightsaber clipped to your utility belt that you carried everywhere. In no time you were walking into the hangar, lines of different models of ships awaited you, and there were only a few clone workers that you knew wouldn’t even question as to why you were here.

You settled for a smaller ship, one you had worked with before that was fairly easy to pilot. After all, Coruscant was situated near the Deep Core of the Galaxy, where Mustafar was in the Outer Rim. The quality of your ship's hyperdrive engine was in good condition, so hopefully you would get far enough away before any suspicions of where you had gone arose. Though, thinking back to what information you gave away to the Council, they didn’t even know where you were headed.

You hopped on the ship and started the engine. No one even batted an eye.

It was a long journey before you were in the atmosphere of Mustafar, looking for a place to land your ship where it wouldn’t be enveloped in the lava. It was all too familiar of your dreamworld, meaning that this had to be the place that Vader and you had met, only, you didn’t see the building built of obsidian. Your bottom lip was situated between your teeth, eyes scanning the area for any sign of life or structures of some kind. You knew that there had to be something, Mustafar used to be an old mining colony of the Republic before the lava got too dangerous. It was considered abandoned, which seemed like the perfect place for a Sith to take residence in.

Just as you were about to call it quits, go on your way back to Coruscant and make up some excuse to the Council on where you have been all this time, you saw a black building in the distance. It was not much a building and more of a castle, standing tall on the top of a mountain, smoldering lava pooling at the bottom like a moat. There. That’s where he had to be. You could feel it.

It was a swift landing and soon enough you were on your feet again, making your way towards the large stairs that went up from the landing platform. Your heel touched the first one and you heard footsteps behind you. Unsheathing your lightsaber and igniting it, you turned swinging, your blade clashing with a dark red beam that could only belong to one person.

“Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

His voice was smooth like molasses but dark, making your heartrate pick up when you were certain that it was Vader standing before you, real this time. You weren’t protected by parsecs between you two anymore. He walked backwards, lightsaber still pointed at you just as you were doing to him. Now that you could see the Sith with your own two eyes, you realized that he was even more breathtaking in person. Vader’s honeyed locks were something to marvel at in itself, curling on his forehead and at the nape of his neck, if you didn’t know any better you would’ve liked to run your fingers through it. His golden Sith eyes were intimating in person, but you almost felt a sense of comfort in them. Overall, you felt calm despite being at the end of a red lightsaber.

“You’re not a friend, Sith,” You spoke, keeping your guard up. “I’m only here to know why we’re connected. The Council seems to think that you’re lying to me.”

Vader laughed. “Your Council is useless. Why would I feel the need to connect myself with a Jedi. I have more important things to attend to.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you do. What could you possibly be doing on a planet like this?” You rolled your eyes, not falling for that for a second. “It could be valuable to be connected to someone who is in the Order. Then you could gain the upper hand in anything the Republic does.”

“Enough with the bravado, why do you think that you’re that important?” Vader asked, eyebrow raising up. You stood there dumbfounded, not knowing how to answer such a question. “They let you come here, didn’t they? Into the hands of a Sith? Maybe they don’t care about you at all, they’re too wrapped up in their silly little war.”

“I came on my own accord,” You said.

His eyes widened, a smirk coming on his face. “So you went against the wishes of your precious Council? How strange . . .” You watched his gaze go from your face to your body, as if he was sizing you up. You stiffened, not knowing how to act under his watchful eyes, shivering at the way he licked his lips. “That means they don’t know where you are, am I correct?”

You nodded, knowing that there was no reason to lie. “I seem to remember you saying that I could trust you, Sith-”

“Vader.” He interjected.

“Sith.” You pressed on.

“Lord Vader.”

You laughed at his insistence, wondering how he thought that you would ever call him such a thing. He took a step forward and you took one back, continuing this until you could feel hard rock press into your back. You were cornered by him, the only thing separating the two of you was your lightsaber which you didn’t dare move. “You said that I could trust you,” You told him. “Put down your weapon so we can get to the bottom of this and I’ll be on my way.”

A tiny chuckle fell past his lips. “What makes you think that you have the upper hand in this?”

You didn’t respond, your eyes darting from his golden ones to his saber, waiting for him to do as you asked. Tentatively, he set his lightsaber on the ground, and you watched as the red hue of it went back into the hilt. You did the same, unlighting it and dropping it to the ground near his. Neither of you made a move and you didn’t dare say anything, knowing that the smallest thing may set him off.

For a moment you almost thought that this could work, that you two could work together in peace. That was until you felt a Force pull you towards him, one of Vader’s gloved hands finding its way to your neck, keeping you in his grasp. His fingers pressed against the side of your throat, restricting some of the air you attempted to suck in. You kicked and punched, trying to get him to let you go, but he didn’t. Instead he walked forward and backed you into the wall again, this time his hand still around your throat and the other was placed firmly on the wall near your face.

The world around you almost disappeared, stars appearing in your eyes as you tried to grasp onto any air that would come into your airway. Vader’s face came to the crook of your neck and you could feel his hair brush against your cheek as his lips came to the shell of your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine as he whispered:

“Never trust a Sith.”

Your vision went black.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #sith anakin

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

a/n: yeah, i don’t know what this is. definite drabble dump! also unedited, so sorry. hope all of you are healthy and safe! please wear your masks when going out and sanitize frequently!

pairing: heir!iwaizumi x reader

wc: ~1.8k

“Please, you have to hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything for you. Fuck, I don’t even know your real name!”

Hajime knew he was signing up for trouble the moment you gave him your name and placed his drink of choice in front of him. Seven months ago, he sought refuge at a hole-in-the-wall bar, one hidden in the shadows and away from the skyscrapers he was learning to detest. Your back had been turned towards him as he politely for a glass of whiskey, neat, but even the world of accomplished, beautiful heiresses couldn’t prepare him for the sight that was you. Hajime immediately believed that you weren’t supposed to be behind the polished wooden counter and underneath some poor lighting, that the uniform you donned was simply nothing more than a costume you were itching to get out of.

And idiotic, foolish him, stumbled and stuttered when you asked for a name to be put on the tab, and before he could stop from plunging into a world of inevitable pain, he replied, “Haru.”

So gripped by the fear of knowing that this bar was the last place he was supposed to be, so initially distrusting of your ability to keep secrets under wrap (an unspoken duty of bartenders), he lied through his teeth. And every Wednesday and Friday nights for the weeks following like clockwork, he would leave behind his custom Balenciaga suit jacket, replace it with a cheaper, itchier blazer stored in the closet of his office, take the train, and walk two and a half blocks to get to the alleyway where his asylum existed. He allowed you to subject him to any of your new concoctions, and whenever you let him stay as you closed up the bar (though mainly at his insistence because he always ended up being the last customer and wanted to make sure you could get to the station safely), it further emboldened his belief that he wanted nothing more than to be there by your side.

The guilt clawed through his chest day after day – it didn’t take half a brain to know that asking you out would be a bad idea in the long run, but he convinced himself that he would come clean with you some day. He was going to get out of this arranged marriage smoothly, deal with any damages that would ensue, and then unveil everything about his background in hopes that you would undoubtedly accept him and everything would be just fine.

But of course, karma would have it that he pays for his sins. He became too comfortable with the sneaking and the hiding, the lies about his job and role in the business world naturally spilling off his tongue. His world came crashing down when he least expected it – he had been waiting for you at your apartment in a t-shirt and sweatpants, answering work emails on his cellphone and ignoring some of Tooru’s nonsensical texts. Naturally, he perked up when he heard your key turn the bolt, already standing from the couch to greet you at the door and maybe help you with your things. Hajime was unaware of your rigid silence as you accepted his kiss on your cheek, letting him take the bags of groceries from your arms and bring them to the kitchen. It’s not until he sees the tabloid magazine haphazardly stashed next to the leeks and freezes at the two faces on the cover, two extremely, unsettling familiar faces.

In that moment, he could hear nothing but the dreadful pounding of his heart. He could feel your presence leaning against the sink and boring holes into his back, pleading, beseeching for some sort of explanation.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he trips over himself, finding the courage to turn around and face you. But what breaks him more than anything is how disappointed you look – he could take anger and tears right now, but the look of on your face that shows he has ultimately failed you crushes him.

“So what is it then?” You ask calmly, but the bitterness is scathing. “Because to me, it looks like the announcement of a marriage between two people who just so happen to be heirs to a couple of the largest companies in Japan.”

Hajime would like nothing more than the earth to open and swallow him whole, just so he has some time to gather up his excuses and do anything to keep you with him. It’s disgustingly selfish, but he can’t lose you. He just can’t.

“I don’t want it,” he says and reaches out tentatively, taking a single step until he’s right in front of you and lightly grasping your waist. You look over his shoulder defiantly, avoiding his gaze every time he tries to obstruct your vision. “I don’t want her, I just want you,” he spills.

“I always felt like something was off,” you quietly digress. “There were a couple of things that didn’t seem to line up, but I didn’t question it. I didn’t want to pry – I wanted you to open up whenever you felt comfortable. But I never imagined it to be something like this.”

“Please, you have to hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything for you. Fuck, I don’t even know your real name!”

It’s disturbing to know that the man you’ve been to bed with, the man that’s cooked for you on multiple occasions, the man that plagues your dreams from time to time in the last five months, goes by a different name. Takahiro Haru might have been just the average, run-of-the-mill, one of many financial analysts working over at Sony, and he was yours. But Iwaizumi Hajime, heir to one of the largest business corporations in Japan and an extremely eligible bachelor, could never be that.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he gulps, eyes frantic and searching for anything in your face and posture that says you’ll stay. “No more lies, but I’m doing my best to get out of this. For you, us. And—”

“I’m not the solution to getting out of your responsibilities, Haru. I know it’s 2020, but we’ve only been seeing each other for five months – your parents would be furious if they knew I was in the picture. Plus, she’s much more accomplished and beautiful, donates a ton of money to all the right causes and charities, why – why wouldn’t you want to marry her?”

Hajime moves to cradle your cheek, silently beckoning for you to lean into his palm. His thumb softly strokes your skin and you hate how comforting it is. You hate how easy it could be to just take his hand and jump into the deep end without a second though – that’s the control he has over you, and it’s incredibly frustrating.

“I don’t love her. Heir or not, I should be with someone I love, no?”

“But—”

“I love you,” and the way he says it like it’s the first time sends your heart to the clouds. “Nothing’s going to change that,” he tries to promise, using his free hand to lift one of yours to his lips and kissing the knuckles. And you want to believe him – you want to believe him so bad but it’s impossible. There are too many extraneous factors; going through with all this would thrust you into a world that you were completely unprepared for. Your life would be unceremoniously uprooted and haphazardly buried into a new garden.

Was it all worth it to be by this man’s side?

“I need time,” you whisper, moving away from Hajime’s hold on you. “I need time and space to think about this, but I can’t have you here to influence my decision.”

“…how long will that take?”

“As long as I need,” you firmly reply. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to say the next sentence. “In the meantime…I need my spare key back.”

Even though Hajime already feels like he’s drowning in a pool of lava, the unmistakable chill of dread that runs through his veins is excruciating. Having your spare key meant unbridled access to you, only needing to give you a quick text whenever he was going to visit. But with this permission revoked, he wouldn’t be free to see you whenever he likes. He wouldn’t be able to escape into your calming embrace at the end of a long day and would have no other option but to return to his lonely, downtown penthouse. The realization is suffocating, like smoke entering his lungs and stealing away all his oxygen. He needs you so bad – this can’t be the end.

“No,” Hajime shakes his head stubbornly, making wide strides out of the kitchen and into your living room.

“Haru—”

“I’ll give you all the space for as long as you need, but don’t make me give you back the spare key—”

“Iwaizumi!” You cry out, teeth gnawing your bottom lip afterwards. He loathes the fact that the first time you call him by his real name is in the midst of the biggest storm he’s ever encountered – it’s full of raw pain and frustration, a complete antithesis to the loving tone you usually have when referring to him by his other name. It’s a whirlwind that only one can run from, and he knows it has to be him. After all, this was his monstrous creation.

Hajime does his best to the keep the trembling of his hands to a minimum as they fish out his keychain and start unwinding the most significant piece of metal on there. The closer it gets to the other end of the ring, the more he struggles to not toss it away and fight for himself. But he places the key in your awaiting palm and watches with a breaking heart as your fingers close around it, your nails digging into your own flesh.

“You need to leave,” you struggle to order.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

“I know.”

You don’t stop him when he moves forward to give you one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever experienced, relishing in these last moments of intimacy. Both of you itch for more, but now is not the time. You walk him to the door, heart sinking as he slides on his polished shoes. He gives you another once over and drinks in all the details he can, branding your image in his brain for the next possible agonizing weeks.

“I love you, (y/n),” he quietly declares for the nth time.

And he desperately clings onto the little hope that he has when you reply, “I love you too…Hajime.”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi angst #hajime #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu x you

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

seven minutes

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, cursing, temp play, oral sex, bratty behavior, slight degradation

word count: 6,533

a/n: I got carried away, and this was supposed to be up two hours ago, but I suck, anyways this Is for the bnharem server collaboration, and well idk if I did the prompt correctly cuz I was mad confused. seven minutes in masterlist found here!

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Shouto stared at the box in his hands, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

What the absolute hell was he supposed to put in this? It was supposed to be unique, something that he and only he could recognize and claim as his own, but he wasn’t one with many possessions.

He had possessions, sure. He was a successful Pro Hero after all with a trust fund from his father, but his belongings were ordinary, mundane, and universal. Nothing he owned was solely his, except, of course, his hero costume. But to give a part of that away was not going to happen.

“Do I have to put something in? If I’m the only one who doesn’t give anything, then they’ll know it was me.”

Midoriya, who had placed his favorite pen into his own box, looked up at his friend with a look of horror.

“Todoroki-kun, you can’t do that!”

“Well, I don’t have anything that I can give,” Shouto raised, his hands running through his hair. This was supposed to be shipped out by tonight to get it to the girl he was matched with. Some girl by the name of y/n.

“You can…” Midoriya trailed off, his fingers scratching the back of his neck in thought.

He had no idea, it seemed.

“Well, if these are going out by tonight, I guess I can do this,” Shouto contemplated, his right hand forming a block of ice, and his left hand coming to melt a structure in the ice.

It was a simple heart.

“Should be fine, right?” Shouto asked while placing the heart into the box and sealing it.

Midoriya, whose jaw has opened in complete disbelief of his friend let out a strained laugh, his head dropping.

“I-I guess…”

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You had opened your box that same night, your heart hammering in your throat, finger shaking when you peeled the top off. Would you be able to recognize just who you would have? In all honesty, you probably couldn’t, but still, you hoped.

Throwing the top of the box off, you stared down at the containment, and confusion and incredulity flooded your veins.

There was nothing there, not a single drop of anything, just a lot of water stains that proved at one point held something that had long ago melted.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered, dropping onto your seat, hands rubbing your face.

Unbelievable. What idiot would send something that was made of water to you?!

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Knock. Knock.

With your toothbrush in your mouth, your eyebrows scrunched together. It was late, so incredibly so that you had no idea who that could be. Finishing up, you pulled away from the sink and looked at your outfit in the mirror.

Leggings and a tank top, perfectly acceptable to open a door in.

Jogging towards the door, you swung it open without checking to see who it was. A smile rose to your face, a prayer that this wouldn’t take too long, and you looked at the person.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

Your eyes only found a cotton-covered chest, and you faltered, your eyes rising higher to meet their face instead. Now, you would never in a million years admit that people could take your breath away. First, just how tacky was that?! No one could be that distinctive or attractive enough that you would forget everything, including how to breathe. Second, well, how could you?! This was a stranger — well technically, you recognized this man before you — his heterochromatic eyes were staring down at you intently, curiously.

“Y/l/n y/n?” He asked immediately, his head tilting to the side and you nodded your head dumbly. “I’m—”

“Todoroki Shouto,” you interrupted. Heat began to build on your face, what in the actual fuck was a top Pro-Hero doing at your door. “Oh fuck, am I in trouble?!”

Shouto’s eyes widened when you began to panic, your arms flying around animatedly while you explained the various reasons as to why someone would want to hurt you. None of them were particularly good reasons, especially not good enough to warrant a lowkey dead in the night meeting with a Pro Hero who had saved you only when you were in high school.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Shouto interrupted your telling of how you could have potentially annoyed some super villain by not shutting up while singing when you were drunk. His hand rakes through his hair and again you’re stunned into silence on just how attractive he is. “You got the ice heart, right?”

Your eyebrows scrunched, your head tilting while you looked at Shouto. He looked the slightest bit stiff, his hands fisted in his jacket pockets, the slightest blush on his cheeks and ears, and of course, the constant lip licking.

“... you’re sure I’m not in trouble; that sounds like a threat to me,” you whisper, cupping your hands around your mouth to make sure those words stayed between the two of you.

Shouto rolled his eyes, but a small snort of laughter eliminated any theory that he was annoyed by you. His lips curled into a smile, and you blinked quickly, stop beating so fast, stupid heart.

“No,” he shook his head, his feet shifting beneath him, “I sent it.”

Then it hit you.

“Ohhh,” you nodded, walking into the house finally, letting in the Pro Hero who followed in after you. You walked towards your recycling bin and pulled out the water-stained box. “That’s what it was supposed to be!”

You presented the foiled box to Shouto, your lips quirking into a smirk at the way he froze behind you.

“I thought it was going to make it,” he apologized, and you laughed loudly, “hold on.”

It took a matter of seconds, but you watched in fascination when he brought his hands together to shape a block of ice into a flawless heart. Your chest filled with warmth despite the fact, your hands taking the ice structure from his outstretched hands. How he thought something like this was going to survive the heat of the day was beyond you, so when you were ready to make fun of him, it hit you.

“OH FUCK,” you screeched, throwing the box down like it was made of lava, shoving the ice heart into his arms, and jumping meters away from Shouto.

His eyes were wide while he stared at you, confusion inking his face, unsure how to handle the fact that you were seconds from being consumed by some extreme panic.

He was from the company?! Why didn’t you put that shit together before walking into your apartment?

Your eyes continued to awkwardly dip down from his eyes to his body, the body that you knew was most likely perfection. Your breathing was hard and fast, your head spinning at the thought that in seconds, his dick could very much be in you.

Would he have a small dick? You shuddered at that thought, you couldn’t imagine this unit of a man with a small dick, but again there was absolutely no way of knowing. Not without actually fucking him.

“Are you okay?” Shouto asks, his face full of concerns, taking a step towards you, and like the well put together girl you were, you stumbled backward. Your blood felt so hot in your veins, your breathing erratic, and the most whining voice escaped your lips.

“You’re from the— oh my god, I didn’t think that?! I thought this was for prostitution or something?! If anything, a look-alike, not the real deal!” you point out, your fingers fisting in your hair, your chest heaving. “This was an ad I found online?! How the fuck?! What are you— you don’t have to do this!”

Shouto’s eyes widened, he knew what was going on now.

“Do you not want to do this?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

You took a step backward with his advancement, “It’s not about what I want! I just assumed that this was a hoax and that I wasn’t going to really get anything but some horrid cosplay attempt of someone famous!”

He takes more steps forward, and you receive an equal amount backward, but his legs are much longer than yours, and he’s gaining on you.

“Tell me that you don’t want to have sex, and I’ll leave,” he whispered, “no one is holding this accountable. You also have the right to refuse, and I won’t make you say yes.”

You shivered when your back connected with your counter, the fresh counter doing little to calm your nerves when he stood before you. His scent immediately drafted into your nose, warm and clean, it made your eyes close while you took him in.

“Do you want this?” you croak, your fingers digging into the counter, trying your all to keep from pouncing on your celebrity crush. “I’m not going to say yes to someone who doesn’t want this either.”

“I do,” he affirms, and your eyes peel back open to see Shouto so close to you. His hands are by yours on the counter now. The heat emitting from both sides was sending goosebumps down your body and a chill down your spine. “I want this.”

Swallowing roughly, your spine straightened, and your hands reached out to latch onto the collar of his shirt. Your eyes met his, his pupils growing larger by the second while he drew in. Your fingers trembled when his hands met your waist, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your hips.

“I want this, too,” you confess and seal it with a kiss.

Kisses were everything. It was such a human and mundane sign of affection, a gentle and passionate display of emotions on so many different levels. Ever since you were young, you’ve always read about how, when characters kissed the character they were meant for, electricity shot through their body. How a single and straightforward first kiss was enough to draw out if they were meant to be or not. Sparks, that’s what they were, were deadly essential and not to be taken as a joke.

But as a person, you knew this was a lie. The only electric shock you’d ever get was a static shock. No kiss in your life made you experience that game-changing electricity shooting down your body from your first kiss. But why was it that chills were running through your body the second his lips danced with yours?

Your lips moved with his in almost a delirious fashion. His mouth intoxicating to you. The warmth and smoothness of his lips that were gliding effortlessly against yours were proving to be a lot. His fingers pressed against the small of your back before sliding underneath your shirt moving so that his hands were pressed against your bare back, eliciting low groans.

But it’s when his hands move to grab onto your waist, pulling you in dangerously, mind-numbingly close, does the essence of your makeout change.

Your lips slammed against his. Your lips coming to meet in hot and heavy movements as you pressed further into him. You were now uncaring and unconcerned about your initial doubts, you only wanted to make the best of these seven minutes.

Shouto groaned lowly, his lips moving to keep up with yours. His fingers digging into your hips as the two of you felt dizzy, leaning against the counter while your lips continued this passion-filled battle.

His lips are fervent against yours; your mind spins from having his mouth against yours. Were you really making out with one of the world’s best Pro Hero? Ready to take him stumbling to your bedroom in this passionate affair to sleep with him as if you were lovers? Shouto’s hands move from your hips to pressing against the counter; your eyes barely manage to open during his search. His eyes are dark with lust, and growing desire as your lips part. Thankfully, your counter is already clean for the most part, just some unopened letters that get shoved to the side. Shouto’s warm hands return to your waist, but only that they feel like fire against your heated skin, and you pull him in closer for another impassioned kiss.

His lips are massive against yours, pushing and pulling you in with every movement of his lips. The magnetizing effect he has on you was genuinely unbelievable, how someone you didn’t know could have this effect on you was beyond you. He continues pulling you closer, and soon enough, you’re clambering on top of the counter. Pants leaving your mouth from the high position of the founder as you open your legs for the man who was making your heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. As he moves closer between your legs, his hand runs from your waist to rest against your ass. His hands are strong against your ass, and he pulls you nearer so that you’re resting on the edge of the counter, his body between your open legs.

The friction of your now connected bodies leaves you gasping, sharp breathing while you try to calm your nerves. This man set your body on fire, and you were without a sign of struggle drowning in his lips. His mouth was quick to dissipate all the uncertainty and nerves you held in mere seconds. Your mouth opens, and your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, pleading for entry. Shouto moves his hands from your ass, trailing down your legs to pull you closer to him, making your legs wrap around his waist, and his mouth opens, granting you entry.

Tongues crash together in the middle. Dominance riding high on both of your parts, neither one of you want to let the other into each others mouth, him because he thought it was right, and you because you wanted to prove that you were no pushover in bed. But lord, is his tongue working magic against yours. Your body shuddering when your legs wrap tighter against his waist, your crotch pushing forward to grind into his pelvis. His bulge is prominent against your clothed core, and both of your keen moans tumble out of your mouths.

His hands trail under your shirt, and you arch against his chest. In this moment of serenity, his tongue can push into your mouth. You shudder in his hold, his tongue tracing around your mouth in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His tongue runs against yours, swirling around it before outlining the roof of your mouth. A moan expels from your mouth as his other hand slips under your shirt. Shouto chuckles, vibrations falling on his tongue, and you tremble softly.

What the fuck were you actually doing? Making out with the Todoroki Shouto in your home? One step from then fucking Shouto in your bedroom should the two of you even manage to get there?! There must be something in the air, or this had to be the biggest prank in the world.

Shouto’s mouth then left yours ultimately. His hot mouth trailing down your neck; teeth nipping at your skin; lips sucking against your skin. Your head tosses back in increasing pleasure, your hips pressing against his bulge again. His mouth stays on the same spot, sucking harshly against your skin, biting down sinfully against your skin until you were whimpering his name.

Your arms wrap around his body, pulling him desperately closer to you. The friction is not enough, these actions are not strong enough for you. “Don’t be a pussy about fucking me,” you can’t keep yourself from challenging when Shouto pulls away from your neck. Your skin throbs and burns in the best way from the hickey that has for sure formed.

“Don’t worry,” Shouto smirks when he lifts your shirt over your head, “I’ll make sure this is the best seven minutes you’ll ever have.”

You suck in a sharp breath of air as the cold air hits your exposed body. You feel delirious at the thought that Shouto wanted to fuck you, ardent, and shy at the idea that you want him to claim you right on your kitchen counter before trying to stumble to your bedroom. You don’t have time to think anymore as his lips come back to claim your lips. This time, you’re not going to give in as your teeth sink into his bruised lower lip.

The harsh motion of your teeth sinking into his plump and bruised lips makes him growl, the sound melodious to your ears. Your tongue slides back out to smooth over his throbbing mouth, your grin spreading across your face when Shouto picks you up from the table. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms around his neck. Your body shudders when your aroused sex brushes up against his hard cock. His hips thrusting up against your own, and you cry out in his mouth. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and Shouto’s mouth trails down your chin, an unmistakable grin printed on his face. His teeth scrape against your jaw, sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine, causing your hips to roll out against him.

Your hands fist into his hair, you pull onto his hair until he’s no longer attached to you and then you bring your mouth against his neck. Your mouth trails peppering kisses against his strained neck, his warm and smooth skin slightly salty with his sweat, but it’s a taste you find intoxicating. Your hips grind down against his bulge, relishing in the snaps of his hips to increase the friction.

“Take off your shirt, Todoroki,” you moan, your fingers dragging against his muscular back. The muscles are delicious against the pads of your fingers, every bulge of his flesh, every dip of a scar makes you almost vibrate with excitement, yet you feel denied, you feel teased at the fact you can feel him better.

Shouto moans as your heavy and hot breathing, makes his mind reel against the cold saliva on his neck. “Call me Shouto, I think we’re past this last name business.” He growls.

“But I—.”

“Then pretend it’s my hero name, y/n.”

The simple use of your name sends a massive and electrifying shiver down your spine. You never thought you’d hear him call you by your name, much less be in your house seconds from fucking you and Shouto — outside of using it as his hero name — felt like a stranger on your tongue, but you feel heat exploding in your core as you nod.

You push away, your hair whipping over your shoulder as you stare at his blue and gray eyes. You watch his pupils that are blown wide stare into you as you lean in close, the sweat building slowly on his temple as your mouth pressed against his ear softly.

“Of course, Shouto,” you accentuate his name, and he groans.

His hands grip tighter against you as his lips come back against yours.

Your hands reach down for the hem of his shirt, and you waste no time in tearing it up over his head. The action making him place you back onto the counter. His toned body is now open for your desiring eyes as you breathe shakily, you wanted to drag your hands against his body is interrupted by your desire to strip too.

Your shirt soon joins his on the floor, and you grin when he freezes.

You look at him, and a proud blush spreads across your face as he stares at your breasts. You were not at all wearing a cute set at all, you were getting ready for bed after all! The bra was simple, black, and not revealing. But the way Shouto was looking at you, the way his finger trailed up to your covered bra made you believe that you were wearing the best lingerie set in existence.

“Do you like them?” you tease, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip as you look into his eyes under your eyelashes. Your hands press onto his, making the contact between your breasts and his hands firmer, more in tack.

“I think I’d be a fucking idiot if I didn’t,” Shouto groans as his face pushes forward to kiss the valley between your breasts. You feel like you’re melting in his arms as his lips and fingers ravish your tender breasts.

“Why wouldn’t — fuck do that — why wouldn’t you want me?” you pant as his mouth continues trailing sweet and hot kisses against your skin. “I’m a pretty amazing woman, you know.”

“That was pretty obvious,” Shouto grunts his lips curving into a smile while his large hands envelop your breasts, groping them. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be mine as well. Besides, who looks for a fuck on an ad?”

You don’t have the chance to respond back as Shouto’s right-hand moves behind your back and removes your bra with one hand. The smooth action somehow turns you further on. The bra is thrown off your body, and your breasts bounce as they’re entirely exposed. You don’t know how to feel bashful or to feel confident in the way that Shouto stares at your exposed chest. His eyes locked on your breasts, his tongue dragging against his lips as he looks back up at you.

“You’re fucking hot,” Shouto groans as his mouth slips your nipple into his mouth. You cry out at the way his tongue rolls against your nipple, his tongue alternating from heat to cold, it fogs up your mind at the sensation and the pure delirium of his actions. Your hips roll against his crotch again, and you feel him pressing forward.

Your fingers shift all over his body. Digging into his shoulder, pressing into his hair, trying to reach the tent in his pants. But your pants heighten when he slips off your leggings, the cold air hitting your heated legs, causing you to shudder at the temperature difference.

His finger rolls your free nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensations on your nipples are overwhelming as your hips thrash against his hand. Moans, gasps, and his name pour out of your mouth as he continues ravishing your breasts. His teeth nipping and pulling on the sensitive skin. Your head throws back as he pulls away, a resonating pop filling your ears as he lets go of your nipple. Harsh heaves leave your mouth as you look down, your breasts shine with his saliva, and you moan again.

“I’m going to fucking eat you out, and you’re going to watch me the entire fucking time.” Shouto commands you, his fingers hooking around your panties. “Do you understand?”

Breathlessly you nod your head, your eyes locking onto his bi-colored ones as your panties join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Shouto chuckles as his finger drag against your soaked slit, “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks, and your body shudders against his actions. Your eyes flutter close before you force them back open to peer down at Shouto, “Good girl,” he praises, and you feel your pussy throbs at those two words.

Shouto presses a hand against your waist, and you watch as he sinks two fingers into your blazing heat. You cry out in pleasure as his heated fingers plunge in and out of you. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves onto his proud form. Your hand slaps across your mouth as his fingers curl within you, their curve adding even more stimulating pleasure within your body. Melodious moans are now muffled underneath your hands, and Shouto smirks at that.

“Don’t hide what I’m making you feel, y/n.” Shouto warns, his fingers increasing in their roughness as they pound against your soaked pussy. His steady hand pushes you down against your counter, and you scream at the cold surface, pressing against your heated skin. Your hips snapping against the sensation making Shouto chuckle. “Don’t you want the world to know that I’m the one making you feel this way?”

Your hand trembles as you move it away from your mouth, but your teeth subconsciously clamp down onto your bottom lip. You’re embarrassed at being caught fucking on your kitchen counter, and even though you were attracted to Shouto, you didn’t want to be found in this state.

By a window, legs wide open, and Shouto’s fingers and tongue deep into your pussy.

Shouto, unsatisfied with your quiet affirmations of his actions, slips another finger into your aching pussy. A silent shriek leaves your mouth as you push up off the table, the additional width of his thrusting fingers overwhelming. But it doesn’t end there. No. His fingers warm-up against your inner walls, eliciting the wildest bucking your hips can muster. The most prolonged pleas escaping your mouth for more heat.

“Oh,” Shouto laughs smugly, his smile stretching wide across his face. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, Shouto, fuck!” you thrash against his fingers, your head falling back in your distracting pleasure. The sensations are numbing your mind, your rationale slipping away as his fingernails drag against your inner walls, slowly stimulating your g-spot. Your cunt feels like it’s pulsating faster than your heart as he continues going.

“Aren’t you just a fucking sweetheart,” Shouto purrs, and his hand reaches out to lock in your hair. Your head is roughly brought back up, and a low groan of pain rumbles in your throat as you stare at his slightly furious eyes. “Didn’t I say to fucking look at me?”

Your chest heaves in embarrassment and excitement. You wanted to be dominated by this man, wholly and entirely, you wanted to be black and blue at the end of this night, and like a brat, you readied to do more.

Before you could try wrestling him for dominance, his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt, and his tongue takes a languid lick. His tongue slipping in between your slit, and you fall back onto the table, your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open. Your eyes are still locking onto his victorious face.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your drenched walls, his tongue swirling in circles and pushing further in. His hooked fingers still thrusting into you as you fall apart on the table, he’s long since stimulated your g-spot and your body trembled for him. Your screams loud and pitched for him to do more. On one particular lick, one measly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your legs come snapping against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling thighs, his tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips snapping desperately against his mouth. Your hips twisting against his merciless tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore as your orgasm is right on edge, but then he pulls away. His fingers and tongue disappearing from within you, causing you to whimper in pain, in lust, and in denied orgasm.

“Suck yourself off my fingers.” Shouto pants as his arousal covered fingers press against your mouth. You take his fingers without a second thought. Your teeth scraping softly against his fingers as you suck your juices off of him. Your eyes remain on his as your tongue slips between each finger. You suck onto his fingers as he pulls away, and Shouto growls as he pulls his hand away from you.

“Get up,” Shouto snaps, his hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and you are quick to slide off the counter. Your knees buckling under your weight as Shouto removes his pants. You watch in an almost lusting glee as his cock springs out from under his underwear. He was by far the biggest guy you’ve ever seen, and your throat feels dry as he gasps when your fingers brush the beading head of his cock. His dick must be hypersensitive already.

Steeling yourself over, you drop to your knees, uncaring that he wasn’t quite ready as Shouto struggles to step out of his pants.

As soon as his feet are free, your hands immediately grab onto his length. His girth wide enough, you struggled to hold it with one hand. You smirked at the fact that he had two protruding veins on both sides of his cock.

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in pretense, you spread the pre-cum as for as it can go, your nails teasing his sensitive and heated flesh. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you grin as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “I better not catch you, not looking at me, understood?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking, “Is this payback?” You smile softly, but there’s a robust sadistic tone to it as your hands twist his skin. Shouto curses as he nods, “I understand!”

“Good boy,” you tease as your mouth opens and you press his cock all the way into your mouth. His girth is wide enough that you had to open more extensive than you were used to, the stretch already making you groan. You gasp as you push him further down your throat, your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes alert.

Good god, you hope you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not straining your neck or jaw. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a consistent rhythm, sucking his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto curse your name. The sounds of his cock ramming down your throat rang within the kitchen, making Shouto’s skin flare with goosebumps while you face fucked him.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his slowly rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your throat, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed, slapping the side of his thigh, his eyes snap back open, the embarrassment of being caught evident along with the apparent likeness of the slap. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out, creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Fucking shit!” Shouto snaps, his hands tangling within your locks as he overtakes your dominance and begins fucking your throat. “Taking my cock like the dirty slut you are, of course, you would be good at this,” he hisses as his cock only goes further down your throat.

“Only sluts look for sex online.”

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting, his snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s barbarous against your throat, uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and pace. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock, trailing against his veins as his hips stutter.

You moan against his length, the action allowing you to gain more air and sending a snarl from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. The hum on your throat allows him to further his strength and speed as your actions overwhelm him. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth, your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

However, you don’t have the time to adjust to your new air as Shouto pulls you up from the floor. His mouth once again attacking yours as you find your back pressed against the counter. His lips are intoxicating, and you can still taste yourself in his mouth, and you moan as he lifts you up on the counter again.

“Fuck you’re amazing.” Shouto grunts as his mouth trails down your neck, and you shudder. How you craved a man you were ready to beat the shit out of earlier was beyond you. Maybe attraction and hatred ran on a fine line.

“I know I am,” you gasp as he spreads your legs, the tip of his cock stroking your wet folds.

“I’ll get you to say it when my cock is in you,” Shouto chuckles, and you moan at the feeling of the tip of his head sinking into your trembling cunt. “Are you ready?”

Your head nods nevertheless, and you still as he chuckles.

“Say it.”

“Shouto--”

“I want to hear you say it,” he interrupts, and you stare into his bi-colored eyes and feel as if you’re drowning in his them. They’re desperate, needy, and full of want. It’s enough to steal your breath away as you nod again.

“Please fuck me.” you whisper, and Shouto smiles.

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock all the way into your awaiting cunt without hesitation. His girth stretches you out in an unimaginable way, your walls fluttering as they attempt to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so huge!” you cry, your body trembling when Shouto leans forward. His own breathing a quiet hiss as your walls clench around him.

“I bet I’m the biggest you’ve e-ever had.” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is affected by your pulsating walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimper as the painful throb in your pussy lulls, and you wiggle your hips against him, “N-Now fuck me right. Don’t fucking make me regret signing up,” you gasp as his eyes lock on yours.

Shouto smiles, small and sweet, yet terribly contrasting as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, and you can only watch with fluttering eyes as he begins ramming into you. Your hips move in time with him. Both of you desperate under your denied orgasm and this heightened state of pleasure. Shouto’s hands grip your waist, for sure leaving bruised marks as he slams your body faster against his huge cock, stretching you out deliciously. His hands drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this barely different position stretches you out in a mind-numbing way.

His hips crashing into yours is transcending, and your cries only fuel Shouto on. Your body feels as if it is on fire as he drags a single leg up onto his shoulder. His cock bottoming out into you, making your back arch off the counter as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit, they alternate from scorching heat to blistering cold. It spins your mind, and your eyes cross. You sputter as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights into your puffy nerves, his movements insistent, deliberate, with the intention of getting you to come. It’s too much, the pure temperature play making you feel like you were dissociating from your body, and drool pooled from your mouth from his deliberate actions. Your pussy is clamping down on his moving cock, slowing him down slightly before he grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure become silent screams as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Again and again.

More and more.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and comes down hard against your g-spot.

“SHOUTO!!!” You scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His name a prayer on your lips as he keeps fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the table, your screams sounding in his ear as you wrap your arms around him. Even though your leg was on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allowing Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your screams drowning out as his mouth covered yours. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa — fuck, Sho do that again — I needa come!” you squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, baby,” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come on my cock.”

The pleasure in your belly is overwhelming, it's building up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the desire being too much.

Your orgasm crashes through you, your vision turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm.

His hips continue slamming into you, they’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt keeps clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow limp in his arms, although your hips still continue to roll against his. His breathing is short and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” you whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed expelling within you.

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses you back onto the counter, his arm lifting your second leg over his shoulder. The twin bulging veins on his cock, rubbing a fire against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto, unable to keep a controlled mind on his shoulder, loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time. A heavy load shooting into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he steps back. Your hands pressed against the counter as you heave, desperate to find your air again. A whimper on your tongue as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“You were amazing.” Shouto chuckles as he helps you down.

“If you want,” you pant, your legs shaking when you stand. “You’re welcome to stay.”

His eyes lock on yours, dark and knowing and already accepting.

“Why should I?”

You grin in response, “I have a few toys I’ve meant to try out.”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha

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greatcheesiness · 4 years

Text

Heartbreak

Pairing: Ex-Husband!Atsumu x reader

Genre: Angst, sad

Words: 1.3k (pretty short)

Warnings: NSF- nah i’m just kidding xd, mentions of death

Completed: 20/10/2020 01:56

A/n: Umm, this is my first story on tumblr. So bear with me if it’s bad. I’ll try my best to improve in the future. Needed to vent so I wrote this for my favorite character Atsumu (that many seem to dislike 0.0) I hope you enjoy the story tho! It’s a bit short and it’s like almost two in the morning. I wish I could go into more detail on Miya’s perspective *smiles cheerfully*

~_~

Your eyes fluttered opened and the constant beep of the heart monitor continued. You lifted your trembling arms to your face. The crustiness from excess mucus, dried tears and exfoliated skin were irritating your vision. You blinked a couple of times to feel the comfort of opening your eyes again.

Suddenly, a light knock was heard before someone gained entry into your bleached scent room. It was a young nurse who took care of you for the past couple of months. Such a delightful lady taking her job as if it came natural to her. “Good morning Mrs Miya. How are you feeling today?” she asked as she pushed a tray filled with medications and medical equipment. We’re doing this again aren’t we?

“I woke up just now so I don’t know how I’m feeling right now…”.The nurse’s eyes softened at your response. Silence set between the both of you verbally and only the sound of the nurse handling little boxes of pills was heard. Your orbs lingered at the lady. She faced you and ambled towards you with a cup of water in hand as well two pills.

“It’s time to take your medication Mrs Miya” she smiled caringly. You sighed as you received them. You popped the pills into your mouth and drank the cup of water. She waited patiently. After you finished, both of ye did a few things after. It was the same old thing scheduled almost every day. A typical day of an old woman with a heart disease.

Now you were left alone in your box-shaped room. There was no presence besides yourself. You felt so isolated and no doubt, an emotion of loneliness lingered in the chambers of your heart. That didn’t help your heart condition you admit. You exhaled. You could still taste the remaining of the med. Tasted bitter as the bitter life you had. You could endure it. No problem.

People say, if you go to the hospital, you’ll get better and better as days pass by. If only it could apply the same to you. You weren’t getting better. You just felt constant. Even worse, you felt as if your chances of living were decreasing as each day passed. You smirked. The wrinkles formed around your eyes and lips. After all, you’re just a test subject. You only realized that what the nurse gave was a placebo.

Suddenly, you started to cough. Your weak bony arms stabilized your upper body as you kept expelling sudden air from your weak lungs. Your eyes were closed shut and little tears threatened to spill out. “It hurts. It hurts a lot…” you managed to mutter. You clenched your hands and lightly tapped the left side of your chest. It seemed like you were trying to reassure his heart. His heart…

You gripped onto your cyan hospital shirt, scrunching the material. You tried your best to live the healthiest life and you did, to some extent. You took care of your heart as if it was your most prized possession. Of course. Without it, you wouldn’t be living… But this heart you have belongs to him. Atsumu’s…

You could feel a striking pain at your source of life. Was he also hurting just as much as you? Salty essence dropped onto the knitted blanket. You quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the night stand and dowsed your dry itchy throat to moisture. Your red swollen eyes stared at your left.

I’m so sorry

Atsumu

You cried as your twenty five year old self sat on the hospital bed. You didn’t want to die. You were too scared of death. You didn’t want to die this early. You have so much to experience in life. You just got married…

Someone held your hand for support as you sobbed for ages. His hands felt warm and that provided a small bit of comfort. He tightened his grip. He gently wiped the tears off of your puffy under eye. You sniffed due to congestion from endless crying.

Finally, you calmed down. You couldn’t create anymore. Atsumu brushed the hairs away to get a clear look at your face. He stared into your eyes. You did the same to him, not realizing you made a pout with your lips. His hazel eyes were bottomless and soulful. His eyes tells a lot of stories and just by gazing into them, you know what he’s thinking.

He’s telling you that it’s alright. You will live. Promise.

After a minute of not saying anything, he leaned and gave you a deep kiss. As cliche as it sounds, you melted into his. You almost forgot about your mental breakdown you had just a minute ago. He needed you to let go of that sadness. Don’t be like that when he’s here. He wants to make you happy. Cheer you up.

His lips left yours and he rested his forehead onto yours. Both of ye didn’t care of the sweat that formed. Your throbbing heart subsided. All thanks to him.

Every day after practicing with division 1 team, he would visit you. The two of ye would have talks about whatever that sparks your attention. He was the epitome of delectation and happiness for you. You guessed happiness was the only medication that worked wonders for you. All thanks to Atsumu…

Until one day.

He came in to your room as usual. You closed the book in your hand as all your focus was on him. A smile etched on your face. But then, your smile faded. “Atsumu… Is something wrong??” you asked. You were worried. Why was he wearing that kind of face? Did came in contact with the doctor? If he did, what did the doctor say?

At last, his eyes landed on you. You continued to look at him for an answer. He smiled softly at you and said “Someone’s willing to give you a heart”

Your eyes widened. You were happy for at least sixteen seconds until the seventeen second began. Atsumu handed you a letter. You were to read it after the surgery. Your brows scrunched.

Why did you feel like you were going to regret this?

Little did you know, the regret burned you slowly like flowing lava once you woke up with stitches on the left side of your chest and no Atsumu by your side anymore.

Time really went by. Thirty years had passed until this present moment. You felt cold and shivers ran up your protruding spine. It was night time already. You gently laid your back on the hard pillow provided by the nurse. A white celestial being imprinted on the night sky.

“The moon looks beautiful, Atsumu” You said huskily. It was meant to be said indirectly. There was no response. Of course there wouldn’t. He’s dead.

You let the tranquility calm you down as you shut your eyes. You were no longer scared of death. You had everything ticked off your bucket list. But you haven’t fulfilled some. Especially when they included your deceased husband.

While your eyes were closed, you could imagine him waiting for you in the afterlife. You began to feel numb and your heart rate was decreasing. You grinned as you see him in his MSBY jersey and shorts with a volleyball in his hands. Finally, you could see him clearly.

“I can’t wait to be with you again…”

You felt yourself being reversed in time for youth. You were young again. Your legs dragged you towards him in a rush. Your soul left your body.

This time you died. You took care of his heart for thirty years. He was always with you without you even noticing. He gave you his heart because he couldn’t live without you. But now that didn’t matter. Both of you are together again.

This time in a different world where there’s no heartbreaks...

#atsumu x you #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#miya atsumu #y/n #haikyuu imagines #hq atsumu #atsumu imagines #atsumu angst

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mxstyassasxin · 3 years

Text

Underworld (E, 2k)

on AO3

Hermione had been putting up with this, this feeling, for almost nine months now. Since she’d turned 18 in September, it had shifted through various levels of discomfort, from confusion to dread, to embarrassment, and now to torment.

It was bizarre that first night, lying on a camp bed in a tent in the middle of nowhere with her best friends, dreaming about the boy who had practically bullied them all through school. There hadn’t been anything particularly bad about the dream. In fact, it had all been fairly ordinary. He was nice, cordial, they’d had a pleasant conversation. Which was why the beginning only brought confusion. She couldn’t remember a time when Draco Malfoy had ever been nice to her. Indifferent, yes. But going out of his way to be cordial? No, never.

Yet that was what he was now, every night in her dreams. She began to enjoy their dream conversations, and, after a few months, she became used to them. But then, Draco had appeared in one without his shirt on and she realised that they’d been conducting their conversations sat on a mahogany bed with green sheets for a while now. After that, she began to dread what she would see when she went to sleep. No, not dread what she would see - she still looked forward to seeing Draco and talking with him - she began to dread what she would have to tell Harry and Ron. Because at some point, she would have to tell them. She knew by now that this wasn’t going away any time soon.

The embarrassment came when she did. Literally. She’d cried out in her sleep, in the tent, while Harry was on watch and he’d woken her up, worried that something bad had happened. Hermione supposed that Harry would think it was bad. But in her dreams, with Draco, it had been a natural progression, and the only thing she thought was bad about it was who had been there to wake her. Or rather, who hadn’t. It was safe to say that she always made sure to put up a silencing spell around her bed after that.

The Manor was terrible. Draco had looked right through her. When, for months, she’d seen those grey eyes looking deep into her soul, then, they had only glazed over as he looked determinedly at the wooden panelling behind her. She couldn’t understand. The dreams meant something. She could feel it. She had not been dreaming of Draco every night for no reason.

Fleur acted strangely at Shell Cottage. She kept looking between Hermione and Ron expectantly, as if trying to figure something out. Eventually, she pulled Hermione to the side and asked her to confirm that she was 18. Hermione answered in the affirmative, being thoroughly shocked by the next question.

“Who is it you see in your dreams?”

Hermione could only stare open mouthed until she began blinking erratically.

“We thought it would be Ron, but he is 18 too now, and there is nothing happening.”

“No.” Hermione coughed. “No. Umm…it’s someone we don’t see often. You won’t have seen him since the Tournament.”

“Ah. He has not yet reached 18. If he had, you would not be here without him.”

“Fleur,” the French witch was making Hermione nervous. “What is this?”

“He is yours, Hermione. And you will be his.”

Beginning that night, the dreams grew more and more torturous, the cool sheets of her bed doing nothing to sooth her scalding skin. She tried everything to find relief, to make the intensity lessen, but while she was sleeping, without him, it would never truly go away, no matter how illogical she found it.

Thankfully, the few times she’d seen him during the battle, everything around them had been so hectic that she couldn’t afford to think about the dreams of his blonde head between her legs, his long fingers teasing her nipples, the way his tongue could perform magic without uttering a single sound. Afterwards, when it was all done and Voldemort was defeated, Draco and Narcissa had managed to avoid Azkaban due to their change of allegiance, but they were still banned from leaving Britain until their respective trials could take place.

When the rebuilding of Hogwarts had started, Hermione could sense that he was close by. She could tell that he had come to the castle, to join their efforts, and she had subsequently been on tenterhooks all week. Her lower lip has been nibbled raw, her friends have been exasperated with her restlessness, but she couldn’t seem to stop her legs from bouncing when she was with them, supposedly enjoying their company. Each night increased in intensity, but still not enough to sate her, leading her to escape during the day to the bathroom in order to find her own relief.

But today, finally, she could hold herself back no longer. It had become an itch under her skin. She could sense exactly where in the castle he was, could feel the leather of every book he touched brushing her own fingertips, the ghost of a sensation. She can’t concentrate and everything within her is pushing her towards him, yet still she clenches her fists and bites her lip so hard that her nails and teeth draw blood.

She knows, logically, that this is his first day, his 18th birthday, and that he won’t even dream of her until tonight. She wonders if he’ll feel them as intensely as she does now, or would they start as they did for her, calm and innocuous before building. Hermione has always prided her ability to remain logical, but as the hours drag on and she’s approaching her third trip to the bathroom for a distraction, it is becoming harder and harder not to give into the pounding of her heart, the itch under her skin, the pulsing in her abdomen.

With her fingers hovering over the old wood of the bathroom door, she grumbles in the back of her throat, scowls at the decision she’s making, and quickly turns on her heel, marching towards the library. She can feel him tugging at her heart, her soul, and all she can do now is follow that pull, allow her feet to take her where she wants to be. As soon as she bursts through the doors of the dishevelled library, she can smell him and breathes in the peppermint mingling with parchment, allowing it to envelope her.

He sees her coming, looking up from his task as he hears her approach. Maybe he can sense her too and she wonders what she smells like to him. He stands from where he’s kneeling on the floor, surrounded by piles of books, and turns to meet her, raising his hands up in front of him to halt her approach.

“Granger,” he drawls warningly, and hearing that from the him, the real Draco, sends a fresh wave of heat to pool between her legs.

Her eyes catch on his fingers, those fingers, held up in front of him and her vision narrows so that for once, she is completely unaware of the books in the library. The dilation of her pupils must have been visible as she hears Draco’s intake of breath and she pulls her lip into her mouth, wanting to hear him breathe like that again.

She steps towards him until his palm is resting against her prominent collar bone, able to feel her pounding heart.

“Happy Birthday, Draco,” she wishes him breathlessly, raising her eyes to his, warm brown and heated black to cool grey.

“Is it you?” he breathes back, relaxing his elbow slightly, allowing her to step even closer. “Am I yours?”

Hermione lifts a hand and curls it around his forearm, his left forearm, soothing the scarred mark she can see there from his sleeves being rolled to the elbows.

“I’m yours, Draco,” she manages to gasp, fighting the urge to just go ahead and press her lips to his, holding onto the knowledge that she has had nine months head start on this.

The holds they have on each other, his on her collarbone, hers on his forearm, tighten so that she can feel his muscles twitching as well as the delicious press of his fingers into her skin, a press that she longs to feel elsewhere. In the silence that seems to stretch for an eternity, they study the emotions and truths that reside in the depths of each other’s eyes until she watches, almost in slow motion, as he drops his eye line to her lips and back up again. An unspoken question. One that she does not hesitate to answer.

Immediately it’s like someone has set her alight, the flames licking along her skin both hot and cold, but nothing compared to the feeling of Draco’s mouth on hers. She may have pressed forwards first, but he doesn’t waste time in taking over their kiss, moulding his lips to hers which have become pliant under his precise ministrations that turn her to molten lava. She vaguely feels his hands competing with the flames licking at her skin, stroking everywhere at once, everywhere that his firm body is not pressed against.

She uses the contact to walk him backwards until the nearest bookshelf halts their progress, at which point she stretches up on her toes so that she’s able to grind against the hard length she can feel through their jeans. He moans greedily into her mouth as he continues to kiss her, but moves his hands round to cup her arse, helping to lift her higher so that the friction hits the perfect spot.

Hermione throws her head back at the sensation, breaking the kiss and letting out a wanton gasp, praising his name. He moves his swollen lips to the curve of her neck, sucking and nipping and licking while she continues to moan and he holds her up with one, large hand while the other begins to undo their jeans. Once he has them unbuttoned and the flies unzipped, he lifts her to wrap her legs around his waist, kissing her deeply again as he lowers her to the floor, making room amongst the piles of books.

He pulls away from her mouth and the heat of his body leaves hers. Hermione whimpers at the loss but he just lets out a low chuckle before shoving her jumper above her breasts and tearing the thin bra from her chest. She screams as his mouth finds its new target, tongue swirling around a hard, sensitive nipple. When her back arches in pleasure and pleading, he roughly pulls her jeans down over her hips and off her legs, then kisses his way back up the insides of her thighs until his face is buried between her legs, his mouth latched around her clit, bringing her closer and closer to her peak.

Hermione finds herself begging, calling his name in an endless, breathless chant.

“Please. Please, Draco. Draco, please.”

He chuckles against her sensitive bud and the vibration coupled with the hot puff of air sends her keening over the edge.

“Oh, Hermione. That’s it, love. Come on. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

When she finally opens her eyes, she sees Draco, eyes silver and sparkling, with his jeans pushed down his hips, left hand stroking his own length while his right cups her breast, thumb stroking her sensitive nipple.

“How long have you dreamed of this, love?” he asks.

“About 5 months,” she breathes in response.

“I’m sorry I missed out on them,” Draco smirks, obviously pleased that she has been finding pleasure in him for so long.

“They don’t compare,” Hermione smirks right back.

“Shall I continue to prove that?” He asks as he lowers himself over her, holding her gaze as he presses a lingering kiss to her bruised lips, and sinks his length teasingly into her.

#end of year fic countdown #dramione #soulmates au #my fic #dhr #hp ficlet #can't believe the interaction this one got

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writtenfan · 4 years

Text

Cuddling with The King -Hunk of Burning Love <3~

DisneyHades x Reader Imagine

Anon: I need sleepy Hades cuddling plz~

* Sleepy Cuddling Mode Activated * (Hope you enjoy.~)

He gestures a playful “come to me” motion with a smug grin and head nod, as he glides across the room of the fancy hotel suite, the smoke at his feet tickling the air around him, reaching out for you.

You both had been vacationing in for the last couple of days. You got up from the bed and smiled “I need your warm mortal cuddles babe, pron-tooo” He looked exhausted, a few fangs poked out of his upper lip as he closed his mouth a let out a loud dramatic sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and you tried doing the same but you couldn’t even touch the ends of your fingertips even if you wanted to.

As soon as you touched him, the thick grey smoke dispersed from his lower half and revealed a set of well-sculpted legs beneath. Dang those where some SHARP claves.

“Daddies exhausted, being responsibility free, primed and pampered sure takes it out of me..” he groans as he hunches over so that you can place a hand on the side of his face, you graze a finger across his sharp cheekbones and jawline. The blue flames on his head dance lazily as his eyes close themselves with a closed mouth grin set on his face.

“God your hands, Ooo!~ Just lovely. You need to replace my masseuse because, heh, They did not. Know how to handle me, babe. Almost made me send them to the Styx myself. But your...” without opening his eyes he reached for your free hand and smooshed your fingertip on your index finger as he held it in his hand. “...widdle hands of sweet deathly love...Oh~” he holds your hand against his chest and lowers even more and you guide him to the bed as you both continue to scoot towards the pillows “They just, make me, snap crackle pop~” he chuckles softly as he rolls over and pressed his head into your chest and proceeded to motorboat your (cleavage/chest) for just a second before settling down with a content smile.

His sleepy eyes opening, revealing those black pupils of his.

“I hope you’re comfy because I’m not leaving this spot. You're stuck now sweet-cakes.”

He lets out a low animalistic purr and he begins to massage your side with one hand as he completely lays his weight against you. His body was so warm, not uncomfortably so but like a good medium setting heating pad. While his fingers and hands were oddly colder. The faint smell of pomegranate cologne wafted from underneath his loosely fitting black bathrobe and when he spoke you noticed a hint of oranges on his breath...and a shuddering indescribable smell of a feeling. That you could only guess smelled like the feeling of the cold shill that a soul must feel drenched in the waters of the Styx...but mostly oranges. You wore a bathrobe as well, your favorite color. A cute bow tie on the side which Hades had made for you with a boyish joy.

Hades now had parted your bathrobe a bit on the chest making you blush and he laid on the part that had revealed your bare skin and he let out a deep exhale and the fire on his head flickered a bit, sending small sparks on your bathrobe which you had to pat down quickly to prevent them from burning it. You of course had something to prevent his fire from causing damage to you but not the clothing you wore... so, there was a hole burned into it, and the smell was now being whisked away by the ventilation.

Upon relaxing you often found yourself running your hands across his shoulder, focusing on the feeling. The taut skin, the meatiness. The muscle...the rather sharp elbows, how bony they felt as you ran your fingers in soft circles around them. You then slipped your hand under his arm against his side. You noticed how his body slimmed down the lower your hand traveled, his waist not small, but shapely. You played with the side of his firm stomach and he let out a low verbal growl once more. His face reflecting pure bliss. He didn’t even have the energy to talk anymore, this meant he truly was worn out. All he had done was have lava baths and coal massages all day. He thankfully cooled off in the shower just before he hugged you. But he hadn’t done a single ounce of work. You agree that being so soothed sure made you tired as well. You trailed your hand up to his bony backbone and he shivered a bit, letting out a low slurred, “that’s nice...”.

You then found your own eyes start to close as he rhythmically rubbed his thumb in circles around your belly button.

He sure could snore. You woke up due to the vibrations of his snoring against your stomach. It tickled and traveled down your legs making you squirm a bit.

His fire was much dimmer than it usually was and took the form of a buzz cut look. Only momentarily flickering here and there, larger than that.

You looked at his face and studied his calm and sleeping features. The sharpness, the darkness around his eyes, almost hollow. His…quite luscious lips. Allowing a fang or two to poke out momentarily when he stirred and moved his mouth and of course, his dynamic chin which led him to lay the side his head on your chest instead of the front. His inhuman features where only starting to become normal to you...he was a god. And gods sure could have weird features and proportions.

He often spoke a bit in his sleep, slurred words mostly. But sometimes he could get louder, saying one word and then simmering down. This time the words “my...town” kept popping up and this made you smile in confusion.

He was always a hugger and a holder. Never was there a time where he did not have some part of his body touching you. And he often got very possessive of you in his sleep. He’d pull you in closer to him, waking you up loads of times, then continued to snore softly. He has often sleep groped your rear or continually squeezed softly any fat on your body he could take hold of. He even squeezed the muscle. He just would keep doing it until his motion lulled you back to sleep. Sometimes you found himself holding your hand against your back while sleeping, or firmly against your side. Restricting you a bit. As if he was making sure you wouldn’t try and get up. He’s apologized on numerous accounts, especially when you try and wake him up to let you go so that you can use the bathroom etc.

By the way, he is an extremely grumpy man when he’s woken up. He needs his 8+ hours or he’s going to be boiling from nonexistent underworld sunup to sundown.

He loves it when you both spoon each other. When you're facing each other in bed, your leg on top of him, holding him and pressing yourself against his chest. Oh, whenever he awakes to that...he can’t help but wake you by doing something…“uncalled for”

Just before bed though. He usually was very chatty. You both can talk about stupid things and just goof off together like two friends at a sleepover. You both will gossip, tease. Laugh at the stupidest things and can’t stop. And the more tired he grew the more stupid and silly the conversation turned and the deeper and whisper-like his voice would be until you both cant verbalize words anymore and just make noises at each other as you fell asleep.

“hmamhkdkz...”

“hjajiii?”

“Blurrf.”

“Zzzzzzzz......” x2

He loves cuddling your sensitive areas the most. Ass, neck whatever. That was his go-to spot. Along with the previously mentioned groping. He also just adores pinching your cheeks. Whenever he gets the chance, even if you find it annoying or not he just mocks you and calls you his (queen/king ) of the damned, my whole underworld, kitten/puppy, soul snatcher, the fire to his brimstone, a hunk of burning love...you get the gist.

You remember one time waking up before him and deciding that you wanted his attention right then and there. So, you crawled onto his chest and sat down, legs placed on either side of him. Feeling the lack of a heartbeat under you. As you looked at his sleeping mouth half-open face for a few minutes...smiling while sliding your hands under his nightshirt. He let out a low groan and turned his head from the pillow. Sleepily opening his eyes, looking up at you. Once you two locked eyes he clears his throat and slowly raised his hand to rub the corner of his eye. As his other eye continued to look you up and down with an eyebrow raised, the dark circled beneath his eyes making him look dog-tired. “Well hello there...” his voice was low and raspy and cracked a bit as he slid his hands up your thighs, his clawed fingers sliding against the back of them, as his thumbnails teases your skin as he presses them gently against you, then pulling back playfully.

“n-Ahem. N-Now this is a lovely wake up call. Tell Pain & Panic to cancel the alarm alert cause this- this is what I would like from now on...” his voice ended in a low drawl as he held the back of your rear and squeezed as he pulled you forward to his face, chuckling evilly as he did so, wiggling his eyebrows. Once his face was just in between your legs he gently closed them until they smooshed the sides of his face and he closed his eyes and relaxed in the skin between your legs with a smile.

Not what you thought he was going to do.

But unexpectedly adorable, nonetheless.

#disney hades #disneyhades x reader #disneyhades imagine #hades imagine #hades x reader

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mysmegrace · 4 years

Note

Hey! I noticed your masterlist is a bit empty, can i fix that? Haha. Maybe you could write some headcanons with Saeran (and if you do more characters), Jaehee and Jumin having a cooking date with mc? Like maybe cookies, or browniesor cake! Idk haha. Sorry for the long ask. ☺️

Hey 👋 Haha yeah my master list isn’t doing so well right now lol. I love your ask, it’s so cute, and it’s not long at all! I didn’t see this until right now so forgive me if this is late lol!

Cooking Date with Saeran/Jumin/Jaehee 🥘

Saeran (Normal Ending)🌹

Staying indoors all day wasn’t fun in the slightest. Fortunately for you and Saeran, the coronavirus hadn’t reached the island you inhabited yet

Given that didn’t mean you guys were entirely safe, so you two had to follow the safety measures just like the rest of the RFA had to do back in South Korea

That meant you had to forget about your vacation to Greece you had planned for to go explore the European country and discover it’s beauty

You two definitely weren’t happy about that as you both were incredibly excited about the trip, the cancellation of the trip caused your moods to tank this week

As if you two weren’t already down in the dumps enough, you woke up to loud rain drops banging on your window

When seeing the combination of strong rain and high winds, a sigh escaped your lips

Walking around the island and admiring the gorgeous nature combined with seas that surrounded it was the only thing bringing you two comfort in these rough times

But because of how messy the weather was today, you couldn’t even do that

Feeling upset, you accepted defeat from Mother Nature and laid back down in bed, cuddled up to Saeran

After resting another few hours, the weather had only gotten worse, contrary to what you’d hope it’d be

You could see the look of disappointment that came across Saerans face as he looked outside the window

Nature was not just a pretty sight to Saeran, but a much stronger comforting sight to him, so you understood completely how this made him feel

The entirety of your early afternoon contained of just you and Saeran laying down focused on your phones

Nearing dinner hours you got a sudden yet welcoming motivation to get up and make something out of this horrible day after seeing lots of inspiration online

After a lot of thought you came to the conclusion that a cooking date sounds like something you two could use right now

You surfed the web until you came across the perfect recipe, Moussaka for dinner and Loukoumades for dessert

Two Greek dishes served frequently around Greece, maybe trying your hand at making these dishes could lighten your moods

This sounds like a great idea not only because it’s delicious food, but also because it could give you and Saeran a feel of Greece far away from the country

With everything planned and making sure all ingredients are in stock, you approach Saeran with your plan

He isn’t too enthusiastic when hearing your idea but with the puppy face you’re giving him, he found it hard to deny your offer

So he eventually agreed and you two were off to work

You turned on some calming music while you and Saeran began cutting up the vegetables needed for the Moussaka together

As time went on, you noticed you began getting happier as you two were cooking and making conversation

Your plan seemed to be working incredibly

After all ingredients were done and assembled correctly, you two gave it all time to cook

While it was cooking, you started talking about the future and about your dreams, you could tell his mood was lifting

You grew increasingly open with each other in discussing your wants and dreams, then a sudden but very welcomed kiss from Saeran touched your lips

It was only a little kiss, but that little kiss turned into another little kiss, and eventually it wasn’t just a little kiss anymore

You thought back to the days in Mint Eye, you could never see you and Saeran coming so far, but here you were now making out on the couch you shared

His hand laid gentle on your cheek as you two sat there enjoying every piece of each other and this amazing feeling

You both snapped back to reality once the timer rang loud through the home

Getting up disappointed because you two were interrupted, you walked over to take out the dinner with Saeran following you

Once you sat it down to cool, a giggle left Saerans mouth as his eyes laid on a trace of honey he left on your cheek

You returned his chuckle as you attempted to wipe the honey off with a towel

His hand stopped you from doing so as he turned your face towards him and wiped the trace of honey off with his thumb

“Thank you” you replied to his actions accompanied with a blush

“No need to thank me, it’s my job” he responded

You gave him a loving smile as you turned around to grab plates

You served the meal blown with a kiss on top as you two got to eating

Satisfied with the creation, you both had a loveable conversation and got a little piece of Greece in your home while missing out on your trip

After dinner dessert was served and you could’ve sworn you gained 30lbs from that delicious food

You both realized as long as you two are together, there’s no excuse to be upset about something that can always hold off until a later date

Jumin💎

The front door opening got your attention as you laid on the couch waiting for Jumin to arrive home

An hour ago he had run out to the grocery store to pick up some essentials and ingredients you two would need tonight

You both had planned cooking a meal together this afternoon and enjoying it over a candle lit table

Having a dinner date inside the home to relax and spend time together was something you definitely needed

It was perfect to make you feel even more loved and great for Jumin to lift stressful things from his mind

After an exhausting week of almost working himself to death, he brought up the idea to you

You didn’t even need to think before you agreed

Knowing Jumin, he was going all out

You swore the table cloth alone costed more than your rent for your old apartment

While he was sliding off his shoes with his arms holding many bags, you walked up to him and placed a short but sweet kiss on his lips

After you both brought the bags to the kitchen and got them unpacked, you got to work

You decided on stir-fry and lava cake

With Jumin focusing on the vegetables and chicken, you got to work on the sauce

Every time he passed you to get to the fridge, his hands wrapped around your waist for a brief minute as he placed a soft kiss on your temple

A light blush always came over your cheeks whenever he did loving actions like this, even after 3 years of marriage

You both were getting into conversations about life

About Elizabeth the 3rd, the next RFA party, plans for C&R, the current political climate, and much similar

Jumin was such an interesting man, how he could talk for hours about topics regarding the economy and fail to make you bored is beyond you

But you liked that about him, along with many other attributes of his

You always felt loved and protected in his presence, a feeling you’ve never felt throughout your childhood

As your conversation slowly shifted and you two starting getting more depth with your discussions, he expressed how much love he felt for you everyday

He never thought he could love someone this much, he can’t even imagine how much more love he’ll have in his heart when/if you two create your own family

While talking, you added the stir fry sauce to his concoction of vegetables & chicken on the stove, along with adding in noodles

You stirred the mixture carefully, making sure not to spill

An unexpected hand came on top of yours and joined you in stirring the mixture

You took those few minutes when he was directly behind you to take the situation in, to just breathe out and relax in his presence

Your stir fry was cooked perfectly as you turned off the heat and let it to cool a bit

While cooking, you both got to work on the lava cake

It was a quick & simple recipe that Jumin had never attempted to make before

He usually had his chef cook for you both so this entire experience was a special occasion to him

You both continued where u left off in your conversation

The look in his eyes as he spoke passionately, the way his lips moved along with his words, god you loved this man

You still remember the days when Jumin seemed like such a cold man to you at first

But when getting closer to him and hearing him open up to you, you realize how broken he’s been from childhood

He deserved better

Your thoughts were cut off the loud timer going off

As Jumin went to take out the cake, he told you to go get dressed

You were confused but listened, he had an outfit already laid out for you on the bed you two shared

He really was over the top somethings

After getting the gorgeous dress on, you walked back out to the kitchen to meet him

You were met with a well set table already prepared and a lit candle in the centre of you two

He took your soft hand into his and led you to your seat, pulling your chair in and out for you

He joined you seated at the table and you two became to eat

The dinner tasted great, better than you both expected

It wasn’t to his chefs level, but it was great for a non-chef

The rest of your night was spent in each other’s arms drinking a glass of wine on the couch

you two may or may not have had a shower after to clean yourselves off together and did some things 👁👄👁

Jaehee 🧁

You arrived at Jaehee’s apartment around noon

You two had planned to bake some cookies and donate them to the orphanage to give to children

Jaehee had her cooking supplies ready before you even arrived, she’s incredibly good at being prepared

You both got straight to work and had decided on chocolate chip and raisin cookies

Jaehee turned on some music to listen to in the background

She did the chocolate chip, you did raisin

A song came on from her playlist that you loved, you knew the dance to it and everything

You started dancing as you mixed the batter, singing along to the songs

That earned you a quick look of confusion from Jaehee

You stopped mixing and sat down the bowl as you stretched your hand out to Jaehee, offering her to dance with you

She stared for a minute before hesitantly agreeing after you told her to let loose a little

You started off slow, making sure she got a hang of the moves

Then you began gaining pace, building up speed

You saw a smile creep onto her face as she moved along with you

The song came to a short and after a short laugh you both got back to work

Hours passed of you making cookies before you were done, covered in a mess

You wiped your finger into the flour you had on your apron

You gave Jaehee an unexpected surprise by swiping the flour on her nose

She quickly returned your action back and you were soon in a flour war zone

After coating each other in the white powder, you two decided to call it quits for the day as you removed your apron

Looking at the cookies on the counter, you both grabbed one and cheered them together, making a toast

“To us”

I hope you enjoyed! I apologize if Jaehee’s seems rushed in any way, it’s almost 3am right now and I’m not functioning properly lol. Plus I’m not the best at writing with Jaehee. Thank you for your request!

REQUESTS: OPEN

#mysme #mysme headcanons #jumin han #mystic messenger #mystic messenger head canon #mysme fanfic #jumin x mc #saeran x mc #saeran choi #jaehee kang #jaehee x mc #mysme imagines

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lifblogs · 3 years

Text

Whumpay 2021: Day 30 - Breaking Voice / Stoicism

Hide the Pain

read on ao3 1744 words star wars, the clone wars, post-zygerria arc, anakin skywalker, angst, ptsd, implied/referenced rape/non-con, slavery mention, alcohol use

“And that is all that happened on Zygerria and Kadavo?” Mace Windu asked.

Anakin did his best to keep his face completely plain, stoic. When he spoke, he tried to fill his voice with respect, “Yes, Master.” Though that word: master. It was like curdled milk on his tongue, going down to fester in his belly.

Thankfully he hadn’t had to use that word around the queen, but it had been everywhere. Nothing but slavery.

“Thank you, Skywalker. You’re free to go.”

He bowed, and then left the Council chambers, feeling sick enough to collapse, or to perhaps go back in there and tell them all off for sending him, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Rex into that mess.

It wasn’t fair! And why him? Their answer before sending him to Zygerria was that he was the one who had discovered the missing Togrutas, so he had insight on the mission. By insight they had probably also meant that he knew how the whole slave business worked.

So Anakin had tried to pretend that he was alright with playing the part of a slaver, had told himself that master was a good title for him. But really, being forced to make his Padawan dress like that, and presenting her to the slaver queen. It was one of the many heavy burdens he now carried with him.

Ahsoka had mentioned that she would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditating, trying to center herself after all they’d been through. So he decided to leave her in peace and quiet. Obi-Wan was in the Halls of Healing. Anakin decided that’s where he would go. He couldn’t go back to his cluttered room and pretend everything was fine, couldn’t go back to Padmé’s apartments or her office. She would touch him, expect him to touch her. And he wanted to. Blast, he wanted to, and yet… Queen Miraj Scintel was stuck in his head like some infection.

He couldn’t see his wife. Not yet.

Truthfully, Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to see anyone, but he knew Obi-Wan had been tortured, so it was only right to visit him.

He was in a white tunic and pants when he entered the room he’d been given. He was surprised to see that Rex was there as well. Both looked weary, but most of their wounds were now light scars.

Anakin forced a smile onto his face, even while his blood boiled inside and his stomach churned.

Remain calm. Don’t let them see.

Obi-Wan started getting up to greet him, but Anakin waved it off.

“No, lay still. Rest.”

Rex saluted him. “General.”

Anakin saluted back. “Surprised to see you here, Rex.”

“Well, since I was so involved with the mission the Council thought I should stay close.”

“I’m glad. I hear the Halls of Healing have much better care than the military hospital.”

Rex leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. He shifted in his bed, and let out a sigh, eyes closing contentedly.

“That we can definitely agree on.”

Anakin went and patted his shoulder, and then went to Obi-Wan. He took a seat by his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him, though it was a thin, weary thing, nothing but a mask. “Seeing as I no longer feel like I got shot, whipped, and beaten, I think I’ll be fine.”

Anakin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master. I was leading the mission, and—”

Obi-Wan held up his hand. “Stop. Don’t carry that guilt with yourself. I took risks I thought necessary, and well, I paid for them.”

“That’s not your fault either.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Obi-Wan said in a somewhat bland, noncommittal tone as he leaned back against his pillows. “How’s Ahsoka?”

“Mostly unhurt. She was treated for dehydration, but she’ll be fine. She’s meditating.”

“Good, and you?”

Anakin paused. His heart beat wildly, and for a few moments he worried that his former master could hear it. Why were they even keeping up this charade? None of them were truly fine. Anakin could sense it, could feel Obi-Wan’s shame and guilt. He was sure that if he closed his eyes and focused he would be able to see Kadavo, see glimpses and brief flashes of the tortures he had gone through.

He tried to force a smile on his face, but he felt it was more like a grimace. So then he kept his features stone cold. His insides boiled, and burned.

“I’m fine.”

“Anakin—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“Mm hmm.” Obi-Wan peeked around Anakin, and asked, “Captain, do you perhaps feel well enough to give us some privacy?”

Rex peeped open an eye and then got up with only a little difficulty. “I was thinking of taking a walk anyway, General.”

“Very good. Enjoy your walk.”

After Rex left, Anakin sighed, lowering his head. He didn’t want to face his former master.

“Anakin, on Zygerria… what happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I sense much anguish for nothing to have happened.”

Anakin swallowed roughly, and shook his head. “Just forget it.” His voice was gruff, not at all the hard phrik ore like he’d wished to display.

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan pleaded, voice gentle. “Please, Anakin.”

“I should go,” he said, getting up and making to leave.

“I want to help you!”

“You can’t.”

Anakin left, insides like a hot furnace, like fire and lava deep within a planet’s core. Darkness festered in it, and he wanted to rip his very skin off.

He wandered, blind to where he walked, until he found himself outside Yoda’s meditation room.

Before he could knock, he heard Yoda say, “Come in.”

Anakin entered.

“Troubled, you are,” Yoda said as Anakin went to take a seat across from him. The blinds were half-open, letting in some of Coruscant’s light.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Questions, have you?”

“Why, Master?” he asked, all of the hardness he’d tried to build around him melting, liquid ore bursting forth. What he was left with was a broken voice, and tears building up in his eyes, the sensation pinching at his sinuses.

“The will of the Council, it was.”

“Yes, but why? Why send me? Why send any of us? You know my past. How could you do this to me! How could the Council—!”

Yoda held up a small green hand.

“Peace, young one.”

Anakin snarled at him, but quieted himself.

“Against this mission, I was. Hurt you it would, I feared. This pain you feel, from things you did not speak to the Council of, is it?”

Anakin nodded.

“What happened to me…” He clenched his jaw, and turned away. He couldn’t admit it. Not to anyone, not even to himself. “It shouldn’t have… I wish…”

“Know this, I do. Sorry, I am, as we all should be.”

“You think the rest of the Council is going to feel that!” Anakin shouted, getting to his feet, waving his arm about. “In the end, they agreed to send me there. Did they aim to hurt me? Is that what’s going on?”

“Young one—”

“Don’t call me that!” Anakin snarled. He knew he was young, yet he didn’t feel it. Not after all the horrors he’d been through, and not after his… his nights spent with the queen. “There is something wrong here,” he admitted. “With—with the Council, with all of it, if the leading vote was that I, a former... slave, should go on that kind of mission.”

“Insight, they thought you had.”

“Yeah, sure. Insight into all the pain and torture, and how humiliating and debasing it is! I had to expose my own Padawan to that! It—it dredged up things I wanted to forget.”

“But forget the past, we must not. Accept it, and move forward.”

“How am I supposed to accept it when it’s shoved in my face like that? When I’m forced to… When I’m…” Anakin trailed off, holding in a sob. Part of his voice came out as a whimper.

“Young Skywalker, these experiences you had, part of you they are now.”

“I don’t want them to be,” he ground out.

“For us to decide, that is not. To truly be a Jedi, accept who we are, accept the past, we must. Trust in the Force.”

Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force? Was that the only answer he was going to get? Anakin trusted in the Force, day after day, and yet hadn’t it betrayed him? Hadn’t the Jedi betrayed him?

“Forgive me, Master,” he said, bowing, needing to be alone. “I should not have troubled you.”

Despite Yoda’s admonitions, Anakin left.

Time slipped past him in agonizing moments, every noise setting him on edge, making him want to fight, freeze, or simply run and hide. He wanted to lash out at everyone, at the universe. He held it in, letting it rot in him with the blackness Miraj Scintel had put in him with her touches.

Hours later he found himself at a bar, not even sure where he was. He just knew he needed another drink.

Wobbling in his seat, he called over the bartender and ordered another shot of whatever it was he was putting in his body—spotchka, maybe. The bartender began to refuse, and Anakin just passed him more credits, hoping that would be enough to stay his worries.

A shot of blue liquid that glowed and twinkled in the dim light was passed to him, and Anakin drank it greedily. The alcohol was poison, but why not add to the poison already there? It was already going to kill him, surely.

His comlink beeped, someone wanting to speak with him. He ignored it, but a few minutes later, it went off again.

Anakin turned from the bar, and answered.

“Anakin, where are you?”

“Padmé?” he questioned, voice not wanting to come out, but it did so anyway.

“I heard you got back from your mission hours ago. Where are you? Why haven’t you visited?” Suddenly, a brawl started up in front of him, and there was cheering and yelling. “Are you—are you in a bar?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“Anakin, come home. Please. I want you to talk to me. What happened on that mission?”

“Nothing.”

“Anakin, I—”

He broke the connection, sneered at the bar fight, and went back to his drink. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide his pain.

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