#trying not to get her hopes too high lest he leaves her all over again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tokkias · 1 year

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what you mean to me ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: There are plenty of things Lucy would rather do than put herself back into the shoes of high society once more but it's nothing she can't tolerate with a few too many glasses of champage. Or, at least, that was the plan, until someone decided to take a jab at one of the most important parts of Lucy's life, and with the alcohol flowing through her, she was more than willing to go on the defensive. ao3

Lucy kept her gaze down, watching the bubbles of her champagne rise to the top of her glass, hoping that if she looked preoccupied with her drink that no one would attempt to bother her. She had always hoped that she would never have to step foot into a stuffy social event like this again. Those hopes had obviously been shattered when the guild received a request specifically requesting her team, and well, with a promised pay that large, who was she to say no?

They had been tasked with guarding a charity ball from a group of individuals who had been rumoured to be after a valuable piece of jewellery that was being auctioned off during the event. It would have been more tolerable had they not been specifically told to arrive in formal attire to blend in with the crowd and not draw attention to themselves or any potential troublemakers, lest they cause any panic during the event.

Lucy liked her pretty dresses, she liked her makeup, she liked getting herself prettied up for a night out, but the thing she liked about it was being able to do it of her own volition. Being forced into formal attire for events like this only served to remind her of her days back at the estate and the way her skirts were always a little too heavy and her corsets a little too tight.

Thankfully, the night had gone on uneventfully so far. The four of them had split up so as to cover more ground, but Lucy had yet to encounter anything of interest. She was content to keep her position and hope that no one approached her or caused any trouble.

When a waiter came past with another tray of champagne, Lucy replaced her empty glass with a new one from the tray before taking another sip. It was a little too classy for her tastebuds, which were used to the cheap liquor and boozy cocktails back at the guild, but right now she was taking whatever she could get.

Perhaps it wasn’t in her best interest to keep downing the stuff; she knew Erza would be unhappy with the way she was already starting to feel herself sway side to side, but she was just hoping that nothing popped up that the rest of her team couldn’t handle as she tried to distract herself from the unpleasant memories that this place dug up.

She glanced up from her drink, doing a once-over of the crowd to ensure there was no suspicious activity arising, only to be met with a flash of familiar pink hair making his way through the crowd with an armful of the mini cucumber sandwiches Lucy had seen a waiter passing around earlier.

Trying her best not to look suspicious herself, Lucy made her way over to him with the full intention of telling him off for slacking off while conveniently leaving out the fact that that was exactly what she had been doing too.

"Natsu," she hissed, shoving him slightly on his shoulder to capture his attention. "You’re not supposed to be in this section, and you’re certainly not meant to be eating all the hors d'oeuvres."

"The other guy in my area wouldn’t let me take any more food," he replied, shoving another cucumber sandwich in his mouth. "There was nothin’ going on there anyway, just a bunch of old dudes talking about money and stuff."

"Because that’s what they do at these sorts of events," she shot back. "It’s a charity gala, but all these guys are here for is money and social status."

Natsu didn’t reply, instead giving her a blank stare that gave her no indication of what the hell was going on in that brain of his.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Are you drunk?" He asked, gesturing to her already half-empty champagne glass.

"What? No, I’m not dr-"

"Well if it isn’t little Lucy Heartfilia!" A voice interrupted her from behind. "Not so little anymore now, are you?"

She turned on her heel, plastering on a fake smile as she came face to face with one of her father’s old business associates.

"I’d recognise that face anywhere," he said. "You look even more like your mother now than the last time I saw you."

"Yep," she politely agreed, forcing a smile on her face that was already beginning to hurt her cheeks.

"I’m sorry to hear about your father and his business; a real shame about that," he added, his tone unsympathetic and not at all matching his words.

The man whose name had been lost in Lucy’s mind to time continued to ramble on about his business, his relationship with Jude, and a multitude of other subjects that Lucy simply didn’t care to entertain. She nodded along to try and be polite, but this was exactly what she hoped wouldn’t happen tonight, and now she was trapped in the last conversation she wanted to be having.

"Enough about me; how have you been, Miss Heartfilia? What brings you to this gala?" He asked, snapping Lucy out of her bored trance.

She blinked at him, unsure of exactly what to say, and her mind began to haze over as she felt her last glass of champagne suddenly kick in.

"Oh well, I um-" she stuttered out, vastly unprepared to have any conversation tonight, especially not one with someone who she was supposed to be familiar with. "Well, I’m part of a guild now," she explained, clutching her glass tighter in her right hand and drawing attention to the vibrant guild mark that was stamped on it as she tried to avoid directly answering the question.

"Well, I wouldn’t have pinned you as the type to follow guild life," he told her. "You were always a very smart, delicate little girl—not built for that type of work. Everyone has their rebellious stage, I suppose."

Lucy tried to keep herself composed at his words and hide her discomfort. With the way she could feel the alcohol hitting her, she wasn’t entirely sure she was doing much of a good job hiding her uncomfortable expression.

"Who’s this guy?" Natsu butted in, clearly unimpressed with what this man was saying about his best friend.

"O-oh, right. Natsu, this is one of my father’s old business associates," she introduced, hoping that neither of them would bring up the need for the name that she had forgotten long ago. "And this is my partner, Natsu."

At the very least, having Natsu by her side made the whole situation a little more tolerable.

"It’s nice to meet you, Natsu," he greeted, to which Natsu responded with a curt nod rather than a verbal reply.

Her partner seemed entirely disinterested in the situation, clearly only hanging around to stick by her side as the man rambled along about days long past since he had worked alongside Jude.

Glancing over at Natsu, she saw his eyes were somewhere else entirely, focusing in on the trays of food being passed around the room rather than on the conversation that he had accidentally found himself in.

"Hey, I’ll be right back," Natsu declared before all but sprinting over to a waiter passing by with a fresh tray of appetisers.

Lucy opened her mouth to protest in hopes he would somehow give her an out from this stupid conversation, but he was gone before she could even speak. The man stood opposite her quirked an eyebrow at his odd behavior, and Lucy merely flashed him an awkward but apologetic smile, hoping he would take that as his cue to leave as well.

"He seems a little simple for a dignified lady such as yourself," the man commented. "Such a shame that you’ve had to settle for a boy as... fatuous as him."

"Excuse me?" Lucy replied. "What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, feigning ignorance despite understanding exactly what the man was trying to tell her.

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle or implicit. He may have tried to hide his insults behind his pompous vocabulary, but Lucy understood what he was saying loud and clear. Seventeen years raised in this hellscape were more than enough time to understand the self-importance and superiority that these men held over people like Natsu, and it was certainly more than enough time to vehemently disagree with that way of thinking.

Any other time she might have stayed quiet and let the comment slip by, content knowing that Natsu wouldn’t have known or cared that the man was trying to insult him, but perhaps it was the liquid courage flowing through her veins that had her more than willing to jump to his defence.

"Well, he just looks a little… obstreperous is all," he responded, seemingly taken aback by her response, clearly expecting the same little polite Lucy that she had been over a decade ago.

"And so what if he is?" She defended, her hand clutching the stem of her champagne flute so hard that she was surprised that it hadn’t already shattered. "That’s not necessarily a bad thing."

There was no reason for her to get this upset over his words; it wasn’t anything that she hadn’t already told him to his face, but hearing it from this stranger, who knew nothing of him or of their relationship, made her blood boil.

Sure, Natsu was an idiot, but he was her idiot, and she wasn’t about to tolerate anyone else degrading him for that when they knew nothing about all the good things about him.

They didn’t know that he was a good, kind-hearted person—someone who was deeply loving and fiercely loyal towards his friends and family. They didn’t know he knew all the ways to make her laugh and all the words to comfort her when she was down. They didn’t know he was her first point of comfort, that he was the one who held her when she cried, or that he would do absolutely anything for her, and in turn, she would do the exact same for him.

"I just think that-" he began, before Lucy swiftly cut him off, her hands shaking with anger at his audacity to continue speaking.

"Well, I think that you’re nothing more than a self-righteous asshole who thinks he’s exempt from criticism because he has money but feels as though it’s fair to offer out thinly veiled insults to those you see as below you, when really you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about."

The words flowed so naturally, as if he had caused some dam in her brain to burst and finally given her the courage to say everything she had wanted to say to this man and every other bigwig she had been forced to put up with as a child.

"Miss Heartfilia, I think it’s about time you lay off the champagne; you’ve clearly had enough to drink," he told her, trying to dodge her criticisms by reaching for her glass.

"I wasn’t done," she spat, pulling her glass away from his hand. "Natsu is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and you have no right to say those things about him."

The alcohol had clearly taken its hold on her by now; her voice was raised much louder than was perhaps necessary, drawing a crowd around them to see what was going on.

"Natsu is strong and kind and caring—all the things that your type would never be," Lucy declared. "And you may look down on him, but you will never be half the man he is."

Her words had clearly left him speechless, with his mouth agape as he tried to figure out where on earth her sudden anger had come from.

It didn’t matter that she had an audience now; all that was running through her head were thoughts of Natsu and how she would defend him to the bitter end.

"You say I’ve had to settle for him, but you’re wrong. I haven’t had to settle for anything because Natsu has given me more than anyone from my old life could have, and I am so lucky to have him by my side."

"You’re showing a lot of emotion over some… guild scum," the man managed to stutter out, no longer content with disguising his insults with complex words that he had hoped she wouldn’t understand.

Deciding that there was nothing more she had to say to this man, with shaking hands she took a step closer to him before dumping the remaining contents of her glass onto his shirt. The once quiet murmurs of the audience had turned to loud gasps in both horror and amusement at the scene that had just played out before them.

Before he had a chance to speak up, Lucy felt a hand grab her wrist, and her heart sank to the bottom of her chest as she realised that she was possibly about to get herself kicked out and ruin the whole mission for her team.

She whipped around to face her assailant, hoping it would be someone she could fight off or, at the very least, escape their grasp to run as far away from here as possible. Instead, she was met with the familiar face of the one who had inadvertently gotten her into this situation in the first place.

"Alright, time to get ya out of here before Erza finds us," Natsu said as he dragged her through the crowd.

She stumbled behind him, trying to keep her balance as the world started to blur around her, whether from the champagne or the feeling of his touch, she wasn’t too sure.

"I’m sorry…" Lucy murmured, her gaze stuck to the floor as the sudden shame and embarrassment over what she had done washed over her. "I’ve definitely screwed up the whole job for us."

"What? You don’t have to apologise," Natsu replied, stopping in his tracks, deciding that they were far enough from the scene of the crime to stop and talk about it. "That guy was a dick, sayin’ all that shit about you not being built for guild life."

She gave him a blank stare for a moment as she processed the fact that their distain for that man stemmed from very different origins.

"Woulda decked him in the face if you’d let me, but what you did was pretty funny too."

"That’s not what I was upset about," she clarified.

"Y’know, I don’t care about him thinking I’m obstreperous, whatever the hell that means," Natsu shrugged.

"I know, but I do," she replied.

Her face began to grow red as the realisation finally struck her that if he had heard that, he had definitely also heard everything else she had said about him.

"I just couldn’t stand there and let him say that stuff about you," she explained. "It wasn’t fair."

"Yeah, I guess I get it," he replied. "I probably woulda done the same for you."

She knew that he would have done the same for her; there wasn’t much she was sure he wouldn’t do for her, but it still made her heart beat just a little faster.

Looking down at their hands, Natsu dropped her wrist in favour of intertwining their fingers and giving her hand a slight squeeze. When his gaze flicked up to meet hers, he met her with an earnest smile, which she returned with just as much conviction.

The mood didn’t stay long, though, as Natsu’s gentle smile expanded into a wide grin and Lucy was filled with dread over the impending teasing she was about to be put through.

"You said all those nice things about me," he teased, using his free hand to poke at her chest.

Suddenly she wished she still had that drink in her hand so she could either distract herself from his antics or tip it down his front instead.

"God, if I had known you would be like this about it, I wouldn’t have said it," she grumbled.

"Too late, can’t take it back now," he replied, his wide grin not faltering for a second as he saw through her façade.

"You are so annoying," Lucy whined, giving him a firm whack to the chest, which merely resulted in a cackle from Natsu, clearly having gained the reaction he was looking for out of her.

The rest of the night was spent glued to each other’s sides, perhaps for the best considering the way Lucy was wobbling in her heels, clutching onto his arm to keep her balance and avoid embarrassing herself, deciding that she had already done enough of that for one night. Natsu didn’t seem to mind, finding himself thankful that she was only on the edge of drunk rather than in full kitty mode.

There was a silent breath of relief let out when the team reconvened at the end of the night, and it didn’t start with Erza hounding them for screwing the entire night up.

"It seems that everything went off without a hitch," Erza declared, seemingly happy with their performance on a simple, but albeit, rather boring job. "One of the guests complained that another guest poured champagne down his front, but I suppose that’s none of our concern."

Lucy pursed her lips and averted her gaze, having been fully convinced until now that that small detail of their night had managed to slip past Erza. Perhaps on a night where she had less alcohol in her system, she might have done a better job at hiding the guilt on her face, as she was quickly called out on it.

"Why are you two making those faces?" Erza asked, an eyebrow quirked as suspicions were raised that perhaps the two of them may have had something to do with it.

"It’s ‘cause Lucy’s drunk," Natsu blurted out before Lucy even had a chance to respond.

"What?" She cried, mortified that he would so shamelessly expose her like that. "No I’m not!"

"Oh yeah? Well, you definitely weren’t sober when you fell backwards into that waiter guy and I had to catch you," Natsu retorted, resulting in an embarrassed flush overtaking her face, reaching all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Is that true, Lucy?" Erza asked, turning to face her, though her question was already answered by the look of guilt on her face.

"N-no!" She tried to stutter out, but based on the look she was giving her, it seemed as though Erza remained unconvinced. "Yes…" Lucy sighed in defeat, hoping that the punishment for drinking on the job would be lesser if Erza simply didn’t know the extent of what her drinking had done.

"I see," she plainly replied. "I’m disappointed in you, Lucy, but seeing as the night went well despite your… accident… I’m willing to look past it."

The use of the word "accident" sent nervous chills up her spine, but she forced an awkward smile at her teammate nonetheless.

"But I do request that you lay off the alcohol next time."

"Y-yes!"

It was well past midnight by the time they made their exit, the moon and stars on full display in the sky and a gentle chill lingering in the air. The crisp, cold air was a welcome change from the stuffy and crowded ballroom they had been stuck in all night.

Lucy leaned her head back, taking in a long breath and letting her lungs fill with fresh air, hoping it would clear her head of the fuzz that had been lingering since drink number two. It wasn’t long before she felt a pair of eyes on her, and she glanced over to find Natsu at her side. He was giving her that look that she was ever-familiar with—the one that said you’re weird without him even having to speak. Lucy merely rolled her eyes, deciding that if he wasn’t going to explicitly say anything, then she wouldn’t waste her breath defending herself.

Instead, she let herself enjoy the quiet; her ears no longer abuzz with the surrounding chatter of hundreds of gala guests. It was just her, Natsu, and the stars above them, and she was content to share in that silence with him until he spoke up.

"Hey Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

He swung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer, and even though she had enjoyed the coolness of the night, she relished in the warmth that he provided her.

"I’m lucky to have you in my life too," he grinned.

Not that she didn’t know the feeling was mutual, but hearing him say it made a warm, fuzzy feeling spread throughout her body that she was certain wasn’t the alcohol this time. In response she wrapped her arms around his torso, which he eagerly reciprocated as she nuzzled her face in his shoulder.

“I’m gonna need you to carry me home,” she murmured into the fabric of his coat, trying to hide the fact that she was partially holding onto him to keep her balance.

“You’re a pain,” he grumbled, but obliged nevertheless, hooking his hands under her knees and lifting her up.

“Yeah, but you’re lucky to have me.”

#fairy tail #nalu #fanfiction #fan fiction #mya writes things

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thankyouforbeingsowrong · 8 months

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i realised that i never sent you an ask and was horrified -- so, how about sweater weather or if someone already sent that in "this is a very long hug now sort of hug" (a bitch is trying to romanticise autumn and all the dark days and rain it will bring😭)

Don’t be horrified haha, I still haven’t finished your last prompt from forever ago, SORRY XD

BUT I will say it was extra motivating to come up with something to help you through the autumn blues. Also, I took sweater weather quite literally here, and it's decidedly not rainy, but I hope you like it! (I’m thinking thoughts about that long hug though...I might do another autumn ficlet with that, for your health of course 😉)

[Soft prompts list is here if anyone else wants to suggest something 😊]

James straddles the bench seat of the picnic table, watching the smoke from his cigarette drift away on a crisp breeze. September has brought more changes than just the season this year, though he still appreciates the colours of the trees as they gently sway, the early falling leaves fluttering gracefully to the ground.

Quiet Sunday evenings always seem to possess an aimless, ephemeral quality to James; caught between the past and the future, but somehow disconnected from the present. It’s a calming sort of feeling, when he’s in a receptive mood. He closes his eyes and exhales another slow stream of smoke, feeling the wind ruffle his hair.

James turns at the sound of approaching footsteps, smiling his thanks when Robbie hands him a pint, before he catches on to Robbie’s barely concealed smirk.

“New jumper?” Robbie asks, his tone light and teasing.

“What?” James looks down at himself and groans internally.

“No, it’s nice, just not your usual style.”

The jumper in question is a perfectly sensible dark green knit, but he will concede that there is a large, bright orange cat emblazoned across the chest. Not his usual style indeed, or even particularly well-fitting, but it is surprisingly comfortable—one might go so far as to call it cosy, even.

“It was a birthday gift.” James sniffs, turning his glass on the table.

“From who, your gran?” Robbie chuckles into his pint.

James makes a pinched face and Robbie grins. “No—was it really?”

“I think her eyesight’s going.”

James had come straight from visiting her to the pub, forgetting he’d put the bloody thing on before he left. He’d wanted to show her he appreciated it, knowing she must have had to ask someone at the care home to help her get it for him.

“Well, I think it’s sweet, did she tuck a fiver in the card as well?”

“Not quite.” James reaches into his pocket and pulls out a 50p coin. Robbie laughs again, the sound slips like a warm sip of whisky into James’ belly.

“She’s got the right idea, about the jumper at least—it is starting to get a bit nippy.”

James stubs out his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. “Did you want to move inside?”

“Nah, ‘s nice out here.” Robbie gestures around them with his glass. “All the colours. I like this time of year.”

“Well, if you get too cold, let me know—you can take a turn with the jumper, it’s a bit wide around middle for me.”

“Oi, watch it. You’re in your mid-thirties now, lad. It’s all downhill from here.”

James squints ahead. The sun is beginning to sink towards the horizon, casting long shadows of the trees that shiver and ripple like water across the grass.

“I don’t know.” James lights another cigarette, tipping his head back and blowing the smoke above him, hoping the wind might carry it high over Robbie’s head. “It feels rather the opposite to me. Full of possibilities.”

He looks over, gratified to see the warm affection in Robbie’s gaze.

“Aye, no age limit to possibilities, that’s for sure.”

They sit for a while in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks and watching the world move around them, until James starts to feel a restless energy welling up.

“I think I need a walk.”

“It’ll be dark soon.” Robbie warns.

“All the better to hide my jumper, lest some feline-obsessed mugger tries to take it for himself.”

Robbie rolls his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

James inhales with surprise as the honest answer jumps to the tip of his tongue, twisting his hands in his lap to steel his resolve.

“Whatever you like.”

Robbie smiles softly at him and finishes his drink.

“Well, who am I to argue with the birthday boy? Where to, James?”

“The destination’s not really the point,” he muses, picking the direction with the least resistance out of the beer garden.

As they set off together towards the river, Robbie puts a hand on James’ shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“It’s actually quite soft this, I like it.”

He runs his hand up and down James’ back a few times, the feel of it like an electric current running through whole left side of James’ body. It’s all he can do to put one foot in front of the other, matching Robbie’s pace, step for step.

James reaches out, their hands finding each other by touch, fingers weaving easily together. He looks up at the sky above them as it blooms into vibrant streaks of pink and orange, and they wander on, with the invigorating autumn breeze fluttering at their backs.

#fic prompt #itv lewis #robbie/james #this just poured out of me this afternoon Alex #i hope it makes you feel hopeful <3 #I'll tidy up these prompt fills and put them on AO3 when I'm no longer dying of a chest infection x

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salt-is-a-terrible-currency · 10 months

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If I go too far

Written for day 3 of the Narcos fandom smut alphabet over on @narcosfandomdiscord

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Words: 737

Pairing: Javier x OFC Aurora

Prompt: choking

Warnings: smut, choking, past trauma

“I’ll go easy, yeah?” he murmurs in between nips and licks to her throat. “And you got to tell me if I go too far. Deal?”

“Yes, Javi,” she sighs. She’s trembling, perhaps both from nerves and from excitement. He hopes it’s mostly from excitement. David Rodríguez did this to her once. Wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed until her vision became nothing more than pinpricks of light. Javier never thought he would do any such thing. Not to any woman but least of all to Aurora. She asked him for it though, last week as he was halfway inside her, when she guided his hand into a light grip and asked him to just hold not constrict. It was terrifying, intriguing, and at the end of it she came harder than she ever had before. Tonight he’s closed the blinds, locked the door, done everything short of unplugging the phone to ensure that they’ll be left alone for the evening.

Aurora’s got a gorgeous neck. He remembers one of the dresses she wore at their wedding, green and with a high neckline that made her look even taller and regal than she already did, with her tattooed hands clasped in front of her. Part of him is afraid to bruise it, to blemish something so perfect. Another part is thrilled at her display of trust, while a third is worried sick about someone finding out and accusing him of being a wife beater. By the time they’ve gotten each other naked she’s already so slick that his fingers meet no resistance, and when he presses the blunt head of his cock to her opening there’s a wet sound as she accepts him into her body. Javier raises a hand to her throat. Lets his fingers wrap around it but doesn’t squeeze.

“How do you feel tighter like this, huh?” he groans in her ear. “Makes no sense.”

“A little harder, Javi,” she begs. He obeys, gradually applying more pressure until she nods. It’s not all in his head, she really does get tighter as he presses in on her airways - her inner walls clamping down on him. It goes in waves. First, he holds tighter. Then, he lets go and provides her some respite before once again squeezing. Just seconds at a time and never hard enough to bruise. She comes with a wheezing whine, her hips grinding up against him in search of even more contact, and he releases her throat to plant both hands against the mattress and rock into her. When he follows her he shouts, teeth sinking into his lower lip to muffle the sound lest someone overhears and comes running. The room goes quiet. Aurora’s breathing - while not hindered - is still uneven and Javier props himself up on one elbow.

“You good?” he asks, searching her face for the slightest hint that she’s not. A furrow in her brow, a tear in her eyes. Anything. But all he finds is heavy eyelids and plump lips pulled into a lazy grin. She reaches for his cheek, humming.

“Yes, Javi, I’m good.” She’s still clutching him in her cunt, determined to keep him there, and he’s happy to allow it. He kisses her forehead, her nose, then her lips.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” she assures him, sensing the worry behind the affection. Another kiss on her lips and Javier - reluctantly - pulls away.

“Where’s your mind, querida?” he asks, pulling his jeans on and cracking the window open to smoke. He’s started going outside to smoke ever since they began trying, but figures this is an exception given that he just had his hand wrapped around her throat. He’d rather not leave her alone right now, should it all come rushing back to her. She sits up and pulls the cover over her lap.

“I think we’ve both come a long way in fixing our personal issues.” Her hand drops to her belly, rubbing it in anticipation for what might one day grow in there. “But I hope by the time we get company, we’ll be even better.” He hums, note sure himself if it’s in agreement or if he’s just making sure that she knows he’s listening. Javier finishes the cigarette in silence, crushes it in the ashtray, and wanders over to the bed where he drops down to plant a kiss between her eyebrows.

“We can certainly try.”

#nffalphabet #javier pena fic #javier pena x ofc #narcos fic

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sidekickjoey · 1 year

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Congrats on 3k! I realise I've somehow gone all this time and not followed you 🤣 Anyway I'd love a steddie ficlet 🍦 "Going somewhere, Munson?" Can't wait to see what you do with that and again congrats!!!

All good fam!! Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy this little bit of domestic fluff <3

🍦 – Send me a short prompt, get a Steddie ficlet

"Going somewhere, Munson?"

If you would've asked Eddie Munson where he would be over ten years after the Upside Down invaded his life, stole someone he cared about, painted him a murderer, and ripped a massive crack through his home, he probably would've laughed in your face before giving you a single guess. He never would have remotely suspected a life for himself after something as terrifying and Earth-shattering as that catastrophe of events. At least, not one that existed beyond the bars of a jail cell.

And yet, as he turns back to see Steve, his beloved husband (not in law, but in heart), staring over at him through hazy eyes in the dim sunlight of morning, comforter draped across his lap, Eddie cannot picture his timeline being anything other than it is now. His heart swells with love for his man, his little miracle of a find in the Upside Down chaos, and he smiles. By god, he smiles.

"Nosiness will get you nowhere, dear," he sing-songs, tipping his head to the side. "What if I was getting up to grab you a surprise? Would've ruined the whole thing, right there."

Steve lets out a small hum before collapsing back into his pillow, letting his hair flop in his face in one dramatic swoosh.

"Mmm, now that I know it's not a surprise, I'm not interested."

"Rude," Eddie fires back. They exchange giggles.

"If you must know where I'm going, we happen to have a very sleepy four year old that needs to wake up and let me braid her hair before school, lest she turn screamo on us."

"Can't she skip? I miss you."

Rolling his eyes, Eddie clears the space between he and Steve and bends down to place a quick kiss to his lips. Steve hums into it, the devil. Eddie finds it intoxicating, and he darn well knows it.

"As much as I would love to lead our daughter down the road of delinquency, I'm pretty sure the adoption agency frowns at sticking it to the man so soon, Stevie."

Steve sighs and lets out a long groan. "Fineee, fine. Wake up the munchkin. Leave me here to rot alone in this cold, cold bed, all lonesome, neglected!"

Eddie ruffles Steve's hair and boops his nose, stopping his tantrum before it starts. "Keep talking like that and I'll really give you something to pout about, babe."

"You wouldn't."

"I would," he replies, crossing his heart. "I'll go to school with the munchkin. You won't see me the whole day. Maybe I'll take her to the park afterwards as well, just to rub it in."

"Traitor."

"You know very well that my allegiance goes to her highness, the munchkin, first and foremost." Eddie boops Steve again. "Can't let anyone trying to sabotage that sacred relationship get away with it."

"Rude."

"Using my comebacks against me? Perhaps I'll also take her to the ice cream sho-"

Before Eddie can finish, Steve has him by the shirt and pulled down for a kiss. It's passionate, it's a bit messy, and it's more than enough to make up for the stalling he's been causing for the past few minutes, and Eddie loves it. He allows himself to enjoy it for a few seconds, knowing far-too-well how much they have to cherish these stolen moments now that they have a third member of their party taking up their time. He leans in, cups Steve's cheek, and really takes in how much he is still in love with this handsome boy, as well as how lucky he is to call him his, with each little noise and reach for Eddie he makes. When Eddie finally breaks away, he's over the moon to catch similar loving thoughts fluttering through Steve's sleepy head, too.

"I'll bring her in to say goodbye before we head off," he says softly, hand running through Steve's locks. Steve looks up at him with a love-drunk smile, so utterly devoted in the way Eddie will never, ever feel worthy enough for, compelling him to smile back.

"Good. Love you."

Getting up and making his way back to the door, Eddie genuinely beams as he rests his hand on the frame and confidently delivers his own, "I love you, too," over to Steve.

And how could he not, when that very love gave him so much - a husband, a delightful little kid, and a reason to get up out of bed in the morning?

He continues beaming with a warm heart as he gets to their daughter's room, just barely peeking his head inside.

"Good morning, your highness."

~~~~~~

Want to participate in the 3k celebration? Send in a prompt from here!

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #this is all fluff truly #sidekick3k

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tobebrutal · 2 years

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@absolutionabsolved from here.

“ thank the maker you’re here — i thought you would never come! ” it was a bit out of character, just how frantic the woman was once the commander entered the room. euphemia was not one to ever appear less than completely composed, but here she was like a frightened fennec. she moved quickly to the door, shutting it tight and locking it before turning and allowing her back to rest against it.

“ cassandra is looking for me. she’s been planning a training session for me for weeks and i am almost out of excuses. ” she was exhausted. between cassandra trying to train her how to be more than just a body on the field, josephine breathing down her neck trying to arrange meetings with nobility, and vivienne practically haunting her as she tried to help the inquisitor perfect her magic… maker, she was so tired. and she was making quite the gamble by trusting cullen to not force another task upon her. “ i need you to tell her that i’m busy. that we’re… going over war strategies. that you’re teaching me every second of templar lore. i don’t know. anything. she’ll listen to you. ”

and it was silly. she was the inquisitor. euphemia should not be hiding in dusty rooms in the fortress that she was in charge with. oh maker, the concept was enough to make her nauseous all over again. she wasn’t exactly having a fun time with this responsibility. eyes washed over every inch of his face, searching — hoping for a rescue. she wasn’t too proud to pout, either. “ please? ”

cullen listens. he stands, stalwart and receptive, expression carefully neutral as she goes on. for the expedience he’s given her calling, there’d been fears of the worst. drove him to beeline, the messengers with eager eyes and missives at the ready all sent to toil in wait once more. find the line and get in it.. priorities had been set for months now and, lest he miss a beat, all things could hinge on a stair skipped or that slivered second to wonder.

but this———

the hard lines of his face deepen, brows sinking their trench of disapproval while the beating of a war march hammers steadily beyond the keep’s walls and that door she’s all but sealed.

“ ..maker’s breath, ” exhaling, the bluster she’s bestowed in him deflates. it goes out in one, quick wave and, in its place, cullen’s shaking head looks appropriately judgmental. what templars learn, first and foremost, when sat in the face of a mage’s odd whims. what he’d give for the simplicities of unsanctioned requests for leave or the cry to kill a spider, now. even if, for her pleading eyes and euphemia’s hopeful lean, there’s a lapse towards idle he can, begrudgingly, find comfort in. to see the woman beyond the inquisitor and how, the more the world has changed, the little things remain the same.

“ you know, i damn near knocked a recruit off the battlements on my way here, ” and they’d apologized profusely for it. “ you can’t be serious. ” experience said she was and, for all his hands that gripped his hips and the huffs and puffs of objection loosed, the light was not out. the twinkle in an eye that, in spite of how it sat between a narrow leer, told all the ways this worked in his favor, still. how, the reports, stacked so high in wait for him, half-finished and scrawled with requests — hers was the easiest to stomach.

“ you want me to lie to cassandra ? ” bitterly, cullen reminds himself it’s not the first time he’d be doing it, but the thought is stomped out quick. he exchanges it for the high arch of a considerate brow and an expression to warn what such a thing entails, “ what makes you think i’ll not do good and march you to the war room right now to go over strategies ? inquisitor ? ”

#absolutionabsolved #aa!euphemia #orderspride #i. orderspride & aa!euphemia #queued #( cullen 'oh i'll learn u a thing abt templar history alright' (affectionate) rutherford #is he threatening her?#is he pulling her leg?#i'll never tell~ )

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jqnehr · 2 months

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les améthystes du ciel | neuvillette — part 16

two individuals under pressure to marry. one has the hydro archon on his back, and the other has her matchmaking friend pushing her along. when the two meet at a ball, and both in dire need of peace from two meddlesome females, what better arrangement is there than their own betrothal?

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader warnings : uh, haha, SUGGESTIVE, some angst (you're overthinking again), this is sfw. word count : 8.4k (enjoy your food everyone <3) note : pls don't hate me too much for this one y'all

! not proof read

! do not copy, redistribute, translate, or use my work with or without credit in any way. thank you.

part fifteen⋮ masterlist ⋮ part seventeen

ao3 ⋮ playlist

...

Labelling the enthusiasm you presently feel for tonight as ‘excitement’ would be an understatement. More aptly, you’d say you’re buzzing with anticipation, and slight apprehension. It could be an ineffable mixture of all four—but, either way, you cannot wait.

Dressed in an elegant, flattering casual evening dress, you give yourself one final once-over in the floor-length mirror in your room, heart thumping in nervousness. Your gown for the night is modest and classy; the small waist-string dangling from a deftly tied bow provides an accentuation of your middle; moderately-high pumps that you haven’t broken-in yet, and you’re worried you’ll get blisters; a pair of lovely teardrop earrings that glitter just right when the light hits them, and a humble chain necklace with a star pendant that’s jewelled in the centre. Your selected hairstyle is a charming updo with two strands of your hair framing the sides of your face, fastened with a single hairpin that is subtly embellished with miniature and gemmed lumitoiles. This pin was gifted to you by Neuvillette himself just earlier this afternoon, and the note he had attached to the small, velvet box contained his ‘deep’ expression of regret for not being able to present it to you personally, but that he is looking forward to seeing you wear it tonight. A wave of excitement floods you at that thought. What will he think?

You’d taken great care with your makeup tonight—and much credit was due to the nimble hands of Anaïs helping you with putting on your dress and assembling your hair. And her skill with cosmetics was truly exceptional—you dare say yourself, you most certainly scrub up well. The way Anaïs styled your eyeliner is really quite exquisite.

“You look breathtaking, my lady.” Anaïs smiles at you in the mirror. “You needn’t fret so much. The Monsieur will be most impressed.” “…I hope so.” You have to physically restrain your hands from fidgeting with your hair, lest you pull it apart and ruin it. “I haven’t been so nervous in years. And it’s only for a magic show.” “And dinner.” The maid’s smile grows teasing. She steps forward to adjust your dress’s skirt, taking extra care to make sure it does not crease. “At an expensive Inazuman restaurant, no less. I’d say he’s spoiling you, and as he should.”

“Spoiling me?” You turn from the mirror to face her, shocked. “No. No, he couldn’t. Honestly, with the way I’ve been treating him lately…”

“Nonsense. The Chief Justice is too kind of a man to resent anyone for anything.” Not too sure about that. You try to hide your grimace. But it’s undeniable that he’s a most sincere person. Neuvillette is much too lenient with you, you think. Well, I simply must change my behaviour. That should resolve it, yes?

He’s one prone to sending too many mixed signals, and it leaves you confused also. Such is his invitation for tonight. So are we just going to ignore the contract now? You stare at yourself diffidently in the mirror, absentmindedly fidgeting with your engagement ring. I don’t want this to continue, but then I do…

Three quick knocks sound at your door, and Anaïs straightens from her patting of your skirts to answer. “Could that be him? But he said he’ll arrive to escort you at six…”

Your stomach drops and rolls in anxiety, with half a mind to hide. Did I overdo things with the bling? Or, is my makeup too little to actually—

“[Name]!” You could collapse in relief when you lay eyes on the angelic frame of Navia, her gold curls bouncing jovially as she bounds over to you, swiftly taking your hands. “My goodness! You look just gorgeous!” Her smile is bright and beaming, and suddenly, all your previous reluctances to see Navia after the stunt she pulled at the tea party has faded.

You awkwardly smile back, somewhat ruefully; feeling warm inside. “You think so?” “Oh, Neuvillette won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.” Navia’s baby blues sparkle with delight. “This dress does wonders for your figure. Who knows! The night may never end.”

You blush at her slick wink and suggestive tone, smacking her arm. “Don’t even! That won’t happen. Having dinner is enough.”

She rolls her eyes, letting go of your hands and placing her own on her hips with a huff, shooting you a mock-exasperated look. “I told you I wanted a goddaughter! How else am I supposed to get one if you two don’t hop to it?” If you weren’t so conscious of your perfect makeup, you would’ve put your head in your hands in agony. Either way, you groan and pinch the bridge of your nose, ears burning. “Enough, Navia! I tell you—that is not going to happen.” Any time soon. “Sure, sure. You know, this is what every couple-to-be says when they keep on denying their clear sexual attraction for one anoth—mmph!”

“Oh, look at the time!” You exclaim as you slap a hand over Navia’s mouth, muffling her next words that you did not need to hear. “Can’t keep Neuvillette waiting, haha! I’d best head off then!” “Argh, [Name]! You smeared my lipstick—!”

“Haha! The show starts at seven, and it is very nearly time! If you’ll excuse m—” “You idiot, wait a moment! It’s barely six, what are you on about?” Navia’s hand clamps down on your wrist and pulls you to a stop. “I came to tell you that I would be attending the show also.” “Really? Will you be sitting beside me?”

“No! I’ll be sitting somewhere else.” Navia shakes her head in actual exasperation now. “How rude of me would it be to tell Neuvillette that I’d be tagging along with you? Thus ruining any chances of you both sneaking a snog?” “Heavens, Navia!” You’re about to explode from embarrassment. “What have you been reading? Do I need to break into your home and go through your bookshelves? What in Teyvat is giving you these wild ideas?” “I didn’t want to have to break it to you so…cheesily, [Name], but you’re a blind idiot.” You find yourself being gently spun around in a circle as Navia scolds and inspects you. “I’ll come see you after the show. Where on earth did you get this lovely dress? And—oh, look at that hairpin!” “Neuvillette got it for me.” You don’t even realise how your tone sounds so affectionate when Navia stops and looks you right in the eye, deadpan. Her silence is a reply enough. “It was a considerate gesture! Don’t you overthink it now, Navia.” “I’m ‘overthinking’ it?” She prolongs her look for a moment longer before shaking her head in frustration. “You’re in denial. Anyway! Aren’t you excited? You’re finally getting to have a nice dinner alone with your husband. This wasn’t in the contract, was it?”

“…We’re making exceptions.” You look away, brushing some hair from your eyes. “For now.” Navia seems to have decided she’s teased you enough for the moment as she turns and saunters for the door, a swing in her step. “Well then! Must be time to go.” She opens the door. “I’ll see you lat—oh! Monsieur Neuvillette?” Lo and behold, there the man is, hand raised in the motion of knocking, seemingly rather taken aback. “Oh, hello, Miss Navia. I didn’t know you were visiting.” “Haha! Yes, I just stopped by to say hello to your wife.” You grimace at her purposeful wording, turning away; not wanting to face the man until the last minute. You have to gather your wits and nerves and sort yourself out before feeling brave enough to present yourself to the man. You’ve never felt so conscious about your appearance before. You give yourself one more look in the mirror, making sure your makeup is flawless, dress creaseless and everything perfectly in place. Will he like it? I wonder what he’ll say?

“I’ll see myself out now. Have fun, you two~!” With a flourish, out bounces Navia, dress trail and honey-blonde hair gliding out behind her as she disappears behind the door frame. Finally, Neuvillette enters, closing the door behind him and then stops dead in his tracks when he sees you.

You can’t gauge his reaction very well. “Uh, good evening, Neuvillette. I hope I haven’t overdone anything. Are the earrings too much? I did try to go for casual evening wear…” “No, no, you’re fine.” He’s trying very hard not to ogle you too much; eyes slowly trailing up and down your figure. Rooted in place, you only barely catch Anaïs turning away with a poorly-hidden grin on her face, exiting the room silently. “I just…you look stunning.”

“Thank you.” You drop your stare and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, hands trembling, blood racing. Neuvillette himself looks dashing tonight, dressed in his usual colour scheme of deep-sea blue and those dragon-scaled coattails of his. You always tend to feel bashful before this man, no matter the circumstance—but now, it’s a different story. You’re so relieved he approves. “Anaïs did a wonderful job.”

“She most certainly did.” He takes a few slow steps forward and stops right before you, taking your hand. He brings it up to his lips and places a chaste kiss to the top of it, staring at you piercingly through his lashes. “It almost makes me want to cancel our plans.”

“Sorry?” You blink, shocked, unable to process his words. Since when did he have such…humour? “I—what are you suggesting? I spent so long getting prepared this evening!” Neuvillette chuckles humorously, pulling you gently towards him so you can link arms. “I spoke in jest, beloved. You look absolutely breathtaking tonight. I believe I’ll have quite a fight on my hands trying to keep everyone other man’s off of you.” “Oh, you exaggerate.” You playfully smack his arm, turning your head away so he can’t see your bright red cheeks. You adjust your purse’s strap on your shoulder, ruffled. “We both know that no such thing shall happen. Now, shall we?”

“No need to fret now.” He doesn’t appear to be inclined to giving up his joking any time soon; completely breezing over your attempt to switch the topic. “For I am here. I know how to fight.”

“Neuvillette, really.” You don’t think you’ve ever blushed so much around one person before. “You’re just being silly now. There won’t be any fighting on your part, as there will be no one to fight. Now! Shall we?”

He seems to finally get the hint; heaving a breath of a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright, dearest. We shall set off now. We’ll be arriving home at about midnight, by the way. The show ends at nine, and our reservation is booked for nine-thirty.”

He opens the door and you both step out. Closing it behind him, he leads you down the hallway, continuing, “I am relieved that you enjoy Inazuman food.”

“Who doesn’t?” Maybe him, as he isn’t fond of foods without much sauce. “I believe you will simply guzzle the miso soup. I assume you aren’t too inclined to sake?” “I can drink alcohol, but it is not a preferred beverage, is all.” Neuvillette pauses beside you as you gather up your skirts to head down the steps for the carriage outside comfortably. His hold is strong and steady, more than prepared to catch you if you were to fall. “And I know you’re responsible, but I will not be pleased if you drank too much.”

“Why? What would you do if I did get drunk?” You both finally make it to the bottom of the steps and begin to stride toward the awaiting carriage. You throw him a coy grin. “I’d honestly love to see what your reaction would be.”

“Would you?” He gives you an intense sidelong look that immediately compels you to break stares with him, unless you were to be alright with him seeing your flushed face. Neuvillette says nothing more, helping you up into the carriage, giving a polite nod to the coachman, before settling in before you. He quirks a brow at you, slinging one leg over the other, posture upright and head tilted. “If so, then I will have you know now that I’d never let you have a sip of alcohol in my presence again.”

“What, you’re acting like my jailer!” You laugh, waving a hand at him. “It’s alright, Neuvillette, I’m responsible. I haven’t gotten wasted in years. Hangovers are much too uncomfortable.”

“Hm. I am very glad to hear that.” You can see why the Melusines view this man as a father figure—there he is, sitting so stiffly, hands clasped together upon his lap, staring you down with a most stern expression. One very much like a strict parent—except, his concern for you right now is out of more husbandly, friendly intentions. Deciding to tease him a little, you gather your skirts up and deftly hop across to sidle up to him, much too close for the reserved man to handle. And there you have it—his features swiftly morph from one of severity to surprise and astoundment. If you had looked a little more closely, you might’ve spotted how pink the tips of his ears became. “I—what are you doing, [Name]?” “Having a seat next to my husband, of course!” Oh, he’s terribly fun to tease. His flustered expressions never disappoint—they’re always so awfully adorable; with his lavender hues so wide and frame so tense, mouth parted into a comical ‘o’ shape. Thus, you place a hand on his lap—as he had uncrossed his legs to try and slide away to put more polite distance between you both—cornering him. You press your chest into his side, not fully aware of the nice frontal view you’re currently giving the poor man. You lean your cheek against his shoulder, smiling up at him. “Isn’t that what wives do?” “I—” Neuvillette’s eyes flit down to a certain area of your anterior before he hastily squeezes them shut, turning his face away. “…Please don’t torment me so, Madame.” “Torment?” And we’re using honorifics now? You want to play that game, Neuvillette? Alright, then. “Wherever did you get that from? Are you disliking this?” Your thumb slips up slightly beneath his robe and shirt, brushing against the bare skin just above the waistband of his trousers. The Iudex flinches roughly, and before you can even process what hits you, his hand grabs both of your wrists, and your back hits the cushioned seat below you with a whomph. Squeaking in surprise, the end of your hairpin digs uncomfortably into the back of your neck and you panic for a moment about the state of your hair—but the latching of teeth at the skin of your nape makes such worries instantly flee. Neuvillette nibbles at the side of your throat, and your chest heaves as you claw to regulate your breathing. “Neu-Neuvillette!”

Looking down, you meet eyes with a pair of shadowed indigo ones, his head tilted into the crook of your neck. “You temptress. Must you push me to ruin your lovely makeup and dress, right in here, right now?” His free hand brushes against your left thigh, which is propped up upon the curve of his waist, fingers ghosting over your dress’s skirt. The material has begun to ride up your leg, and you can physically see your chest pounding erratically with the speed of your heart rate. You’re speechless, just staring at him with wide eyes, unable to move. Neuvillette’s present expression is awfully similar to that of when you both had a moment in the kitchen, his gaze much too piercing for you to hold. Voice rumbling against your nape, he continues, “You really do look so lovely this evening. It would be a shame to rip it all off of you, after the amount of work you put into it.”

“I…” It’s quite easy to tell that Neuvillette means what he says. “You’ve never…done this before.”

The glint in his eye is carnal, and the look goes right to your core. You make no move to push him away, and he slowly emerges from your throat, hovering above you. His shoulders are enough to cage you in. “Mm. Let’s just say you’ve pushed me a bit too far.”

You jump when a gloved hand slowly trails its way up the outer side of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt. “Oh! Why, you’re eager—!”

“Eager?” Neuvillette adjusts his hold on your wrists. It’s almost frightening, really, how easily he can overpower you. His entire palm is enough to engulf both of your hands into his grip securely. But you don’t squirm or try to escape. No, you stay right where you are, like putty beneath his form. This position is sending your imagination quite wild—what would it be like in a bed chamber, with nothing but the moon for light, spilling in and over and across his disrobed frame? With you, right below him, just as now, tearing at the sheets for grounding? It isn’t something you can see yourself denying.

“Hm, well, when you have a wife whose favourite pastime is to taunt her husband—then, yes, I suppose so.” The kind, quiet Chief Justice you’ve come to know so well is merely figmental right now, replaced with a man of lascivious eyes and blistering touch. He, by instinct, parts your legs a little bit and moves to settle between them. “What will she do when she is finally shown up?” “Does it frustrate you that much?” You recollect your wits enough to flash a small, sly grin and make the (rather foolish) decision of pushing his buttons even more. “Well, then, if you’re so eager, kiss me. Ruin my lipstick.”

Neuvillette’s brows flick up in surprise. “…What?” “Kiss me,” you repeat, lifting your leg and resting upon the small of his back snugly, pulling him in closer to your centre. He jolts in surprise; the grasp he has on your hip beneath your skirts inadvertently tightening. “Go ahead and kiss me.”

He stares and bites down on his own lower lip, hesitating, debating. You wish one of your hands were free to swipe a thumb across that lip, to feel its softness against your own. Good thing you have some lipstick in your purse, ready to be reapplied if the need arises. And it looks like it will.

After a moment of clear contemplation, Neuvillette seems to have finally made his decision as he removes his hand from your hip, moving to cup your cheek so tenderly, tilting your chin down to give him easier access to your mouth. Your breathing quickens, reduced to brisk little inhales, heart pummelling at your ribcage. He finally lets go of your wrists, arm slipping beneath the small, natural arch of your back and lifting you up, now pressed against his middle fully. Your free hands seem to have a life of their own; shifting to wind themselves around his neck, and as he hoists you up to essentially straddle his lap, your face now lingers above his. Your breaths mingle, you breathe in that crisp, husky scent of his, and he moves to smother your mouth with his own.

This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of since the night on the beach. You’re finally continuing what shouldn’t have been overthought and should have been finished back then, right now. You’re ready to proudly parade into the Opera Epiclese with swollen lips and smeared lipstick if it means you’ve finally gotten the kiss you have been needing for not weeks, but months now.

His lips just brush against yours when the carriage rolls to a halt and the coachman knocks on the door. “Monsieur and Madame! We’ve arrived at the Main Station.”

And the spell, once more, is broken. You slump against him in disappointment, and he sighs deeply, wearily. Gently, he pries your hands off him, kindly adjusting your skirts and tightening your hairpin for you in two swift movements. You quickly take out a compact mirror from your purse and inspect your appearance thoroughly, cheeks scathingly hot. He places you from his lap and onto the carriage seat, avoiding your eyes. “…Alright.”

Of all times. Of all damn times to get interrupted. You spray on some perfume and touch your mascara up a little, snapping your compact mirror shut with a sharp clack, shoving it into your purse. We’re not finished. I’m going to corner him again as soon as I get the chance. No way are you leaving this whole thing unfinished for a second time. And you’ll make sure he won’t, either.

You notice Neuvillette giving you a wary look from your periphery, but you ignore it, quickly gathering up your skirts and taking his hand to step down from the carriage. Now you both must board the aquabus, and suffer through an agonisingly long ride across the harbour to Erinnyes, where the Opera Epiclese is located. You suppose this is no large change of routine for the man at your arm, who silently guides you towards the boarding dock. He regularly travels from the Court to Erinnyes for hearings much too often. And, as expected, a Melusine is awaiting the both of you dutifully at the bow of the aquabus. She chirps a bright greeting to the Chief Justice, who responds with a soft smile and word.

“Oh! And the Madame is here!” The Melusine, Elphane, brightens even more at the sight of you. “I was wondering why you were coming out here at such an hour, Monsieur Neuvillette. You must be taking Madame on a date!” “A date…yes.” You both shuffle a little bit as you settle onto the seats, side by side, with a small bit of distance between you. For the best. “We’re going to see Lyney and Lynette’s magic show.”

“How exciting!” Elphane claps her small paws together elatedly. “Oh, Madame, isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette just so kind? Surely you’re both going to have a candlelight dinner afterwards!”

“Uh—not quite,” you laugh awkwardly. “We will be having dinner, but there won’t be any…candles.” “Are you averse to such an idea, Madame?” Now Neuvillette seems to have decided to join in on the fun, having apparently gotten over the little ‘physical altercation’ you both got into in the carriage mere minutes ago. Such a realisation stings you a little. Is he unaffected by this? Maybe his aloofness is finally getting the better of him—however, now is an awful time for it to happen.

Unbeknownst to you, Neuvillette is only trying to lighten the mood. Trying. The look on your face tells him that he’s failing miserably. Wracking his brains for some other, maybe more appropriate method (he’s always been absolutely terrible at cracking and understanding jokes), he attempts a smile. “Is this not a private outing between us? Isn’t it meant to be…well, romantic?” Elphane gasps quite audibly, before she slaps her paws over her mouth. You both look at her questioningly. “Don’t mind me! I’m not here. Please continue!”

“…I suppose so,” you carry on rather subduedly, eyeing the Melusine. She’s watching you both with wide, sparkling eyes, utterly immersed in…this. You do suppose it’d be rather interesting to hear the reclusive, abstinent Chief Justice talk about romance. With a woman at his side. A woman that is his wife. And then that makes you remember the contract, and that you both should really not be doing this—it’s bound to get back to Furina somehow, and she’ll be on your backs about it in an instant—but you find you don’t care. You’re getting that kiss from him. You’re determined to pin him against the wall in a secluded, empty hall somewhere in the opera hall if necessary. And with that rather searing glint in his eye that he’s had since you both emerged from the carriage, you’re almost confident he feels the same.

“Well! Dear me, but I’m sure my sisters will be utterly overjoyed to hear the news,” Elphane giggles and claps her paws together once more. “You must be so happy, Neuvillette, being with a woman like the Madame here.”

“…Yes. I do suppose I am.” He looks at you, the breeze brushes his bangs aside a bit, providing you full exposure to the sheer intensity of his stare. Breathless, you thank the gods for the cool breeze and poor lighting so that he isn’t able to fully see the effect his words and soft inclination just had on you. Neuvillette doesn’t appear to be done, though. “Who knew such advantages could be taken out of such a hapless situation?”

“Oh, but is it really unfortunate?” Elphane adds, giggling. You and Neuvillette haven’t stopped staring at each other. “Because it seems to be going pretty well!”

“Yes, uh, well…” You finally break gazes and look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. “Never does any harm to make good of something…inauspicious.”

Elphane and Neuvillette begin quietly chatting, the former occasionally throwing some good-natured, teasing quips in your direction, to which you smile and laugh awkwardly at. In your silence, you’re beginning to overthink things again: do I really deserve to ask that of him? Do you even have the right to take it that big of a step forward—to totally disregard that line that’s now so blurry, you can’t really see it anymore? You always forget to ask him what he wants, you always just assume. Since when was I like this? Have I always been like this? Even the cool night breeze and full moon isn’t enough to calm you. Shall I take a step back? Oh, what was I thinking, telling him to kiss me?

You would write it off as a ‘spur-of-the-moment’ thing, but it was a fully conscious decision. You wanted it—so badly, you were ready to throw dignity into the wind. Your marcid emotions are now so inordinate; even just his presence sends you haywire, an incalescent burn that will maul you to shreds. It’s happened before, but why is this experience so much more intensely agonising than the last?

You’ve gone over this so many times before; battled with yourself to just leave and never look back—but you don’t want to. Does he want you to leave? It doesn’t seem like it, but will he turn on you? Like how you’ve turned on yourself?

You’re yanked the gloom of your thoughts when a warm hand rests itself upon your shoulder and pats it, the individual calling for your attention. Neuvillette is speaking to you. “[Name]? Are you alright? You’re so silent.” “Uh—oh, I’m quite fine, thank you.” You school your features back into your usual mask of impassivity. “Have we arrived?” “Not just yet.” Damn you, Neuvillette. Those eyes, so clear and teeming with solicitude. Such compassion, like he’s experienced this exact scourge himself before, but never had anyone to sincerely ask if he was all right. The man is so full of empathy, and readily imparts it to others, but he’s never had such a thing endowed upon him. How can you not love someone like him?

“Is there something on my face?” Neuvillette’s soft clearing of his throat and retraction from you spears you as much as it startles you. “Oh! No, there’s nothing, I just tend to stare…at random things when lost in thought.”

“…I see.” Great. I’ve made him uncomfortable. Seems to be a poor habit of yours, putting people in awkward positions. The reputation you’re beginning to amass will eventually proceed you. You suppose it’s a given for someone as reprehensible as yourself; it amazes you people such as Navia have stuck by your side for so long. What is the appeal within you? What compelled Neuvillette to be inclined toward you in the first place?

You look at him fleetingly, and he’s as beautiful as ever; the cast of the moon and its veneer of shine upon him befits the man entirely. You adore and detest how looking up at the moon from the day you leave and on will bring his face to the forefront of your mind—even for years subsequent. They say he stands out most when seated upon that eminent chair of his in the Opera Epiclese, but you’ve come to disagree. Neuvillette is at his peak when relaxed and within his element, not tense with the pressure of the Oratrice and the deafening jeers of the onlookers. He shines the most when bathed in the gentle glow of the moon, and when he stands with his face turned to the sky as the rain tumbles down.

You’d like to say he is most riveting when next to you, but that’s much too vain of a statement to express. How ironic is it; you’re thinking of his correlation to the moon, while you’re ‘mooning’ over the man right now—and when alone. You reason that one would have to blind—to be brainless to not love this man in some kind of way. To the Melusines, he is a kindly father figure, and maybe even to Furina also; to you, he is a friend you consider an anchor, someone who understands you deeply—to a raw, emotional level, and someone you don’t want to be friends with. You want to be able to call him your husband as how a woman would refer fondly to the man she loves, and is to spend the remainder of her life with. Does he think the same? Or would he be averse to such a thing?

Maybe you aren’t seeing the bigger picture here. There are signs you refuse to see—and even now, you disregard such a train of thought. The high and adrenaline rush that raced through your veins in the carriage is coming down now, leaving you with the low that dashes your spirits further. He’s a drug that will drive you to death.

Your hip still tingles with the aftermath of his touch. How you crave for it. The gods abhor you.

“You’re lost in thought again, [Name]. What has you looking so sad?” Will you stop being so kind? You wish you had the strength to glare at him. Now, you’re incapable of even being annoyed with him. You long to hate him, you long to have him make you his. Mustering some semblance of a smile, you shake your head weakly. “I’m alright. Are you looking forward to the show? I am.”

Neuvillette’s gaze and silence lingers for a brief few seconds more before he warily nods and responds. “…I suppose so. Is this your first time seeing the two live?” “Uh, yes, it is.” You avoid his stare, turning to ‘admire’ the view instead. “Let’s hope nothing goes awry like how their previous one did. The one that put them on trial, I mean.” “Yes.” He’s staring holes into the side of your face; you look down at your lap and hands to avert from it even more. “I’m sure all will be fine. We have good seats, therefore it will be an enjoyable experience for you.”

“I believe so.” Remembering Navia’s presence at the show gives you some comfort. “I hope I am not overdressed.”

“Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter.” Neuvillette seems to have a knack for flirting; he takes your hand and places yet another soft kiss to the top of it. “You look like an angel. It’s almost annoying how I am not the only one who will lay eyes upon you tonight. It makes me want to keep this sight for myself.” Your eyes become round at his words; you throw a frantic look in the innocent Elphane’s direction, who looks on with a vaguely perplexed expression. What is he implying? “Enough with your blandishments! I cannot stand it when people lie to my face, Neuvillette.” Ha! The irony…

“Ah, that we have in common, but I am not lying.” The aquabus finally arrives at its stop at Marcotte Station, and you both bid farewell to Elphane as you hop off, beginning your brief walk to the Opera. Your arms are entwined; Neuvillette bends down to whisper into your ear: “My words are not empty. Don’t you wish to continue our unfinished little escapade in the carriage elsewhere sometime later?” Gasping, you trip, stumbling forward. Your foot comes loose from your shoe, leaving the pump on its side upon the pavement. “Oh, Neuvillette, you idiot! Don’t say such things at random!”

He chuckles deeply, turning to retrieve the shoe, smirking at you. You’re out of breath; your face is probably the colour of a tomato. “Your reaction told me all I needed to know. Good thing you didn’t twist your ankle, hm?” “And it would’ve been your fault if I did!” Your emotions are too high-strung to handle this right now. “Give me my shoe. I’ll put it on.”

Neuvillette responds by sweeping you up and swiftly placing you down on a nearby park bench. The action was too fast for you to comprehend immediately, leaving you disoriented. “Oh!”

He kneels before you, pushing the hem of your skirts up, gently holding your ankle as he slips your high heel back onto your foot. It’s the bare minimum for a gentleman, but it hits you right where you’re weak. The Chief Justice, the most important man in this country, kneeling before me? You’re so undeserving, but here you are. He just stares up at you for a moment, head tilted and the corners of his mouth curled into a smug smile, unmoving. Great, he’s getting ready to tease me again. “Isn��t it so convenient that we’re in rather isolated seats for the show? We won’t be interrupted this time.”

It’s like he’s become a whole new person! You’re glad you’re not wearing a shawl, you’re too hot and bothered for this. Standing abruptly, you turn to stride away, flustered enormously. “I take it back! Don’t become a poet, Neuvillette. I misjudged your affinity for it.”

“Why? Is it because only you want to hear such things?” Neuvillette immediately catches your wrist and pulls you toward him, eyes crinkled up in amusement. “That can be arranged. Somewhere dark, private, without a soul around—”

“Oh, please stop!” You put your face in your hands and let out a cry. “You’re embarrassing me! Oh, I shouldn’t have provoked you in the carriage…”

Gentle hands squeeze your shoulders as a chuckle rumbles from his chest, almost sympathetic. “Do I still get that kiss?”

You’re about to combust. “…Later. Let’s go, or we’ll be late for the show.”

・・・・

When you both arrive at the Opera and enter the theatre, the entire room falls silent.

Arm-in-arm with the Chief Justice, you force yourself to keep your head high as you both make your way through the aisles of the Opera and make your way up for your private seats. Soft music is playing as a “THE SHOW WILL BEGIN SOON” projection is displayed across the drawn curtains of the stage. Shyness and humiliation is like an invisible hand trying to push your head down, but you resist, keeping your eyes up and ahead, expression carefully blank. Every eye in the room is on you both; whispers filter about the area, each one filled with shock, each one so sickly enthused with this sudden turn of events. Yes, it is a good thing you’re both seated far from everyone else—there would be no way you’d be left alone.

It’s ten minutes to seven, and you both arrive at your designated seats. These seats are only a little way away from the ones you last sat in and in which you had a panic attack; overlooking the stage at an ideal angle. You examine the guests for Navia’s familiar head of blonde hair and classy hat. You soon spot her, and relax back in your chair, breathing a humourless laugh, whispering, “Well, don’t we have some lovely memories here?” “To you, maybe,” he softly replies. “But standing out on the balcony with you was quite nice. Don’t you agree?” “If you say so.” You settle into your seat, adjusting your skirts, opening up your paper bag of Conch Madeleines you’d purchased at in the foyer café. “Care for one?” “I’m alright, thank you.” Neuvillette waves his hand and summons two eloquently-designed cups out of thin air, each filled with water. Handing you one, he turns to face the stage again. “This batch of water I ordered from Inazuma is quite decadent.” “I believe it would be.” You take a quick sip and place it to the side, deciding not to mention that it just tastes like regular water, maybe a tad bit crisper. “Oh, but you really are missing out on these Conch Madeleines. They’re still hot from the oven, and they’re divine.” “Well, then, all the more for you to enjoy, yes?” Neuvillette crosses one leg over the other, settling into his seat. “I’m quite alright with water, but thank you for the offer.”

“If you say so!” With that, you take a bite, humming at its sweet taste. This one has a bit of a lemony flavour, with cream inside. Good thing you bought more than three. You have two hours worth of entertainment to get through, best you savour them each instead of eating them all before the show even starts.

Soft murmurs flit throughout the hall, the subject of their hushed, breathless conversations clear: it is not excitement about the upcoming show, no—it’s excitement over the star pair of Fontaine sitting just above them in the VIP docks. The only thing that finally silences them is the sudden burst of music that apprises everyone that the show is finally beginning.

Drums roll, the theatre darkens, and the curtains swish aside, the single spotlight illuminating the centre of the stage and the individual standing in an extravagant pose upon it. It’s instantly obvious who it is; with his head bowed and signature top hat dipped down over his eyes, Lyney holds up his free hand with five playing cards spread out through the cracks of his fingers. Then, with a flourish, he throws up his hat, tosses the cards out in front of him, and disappears.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, our lovely guests this evening, to the one and only Lyney and Lynette’s Magic Show!” The cards flutter down to the stage floor, the spotlight still shining upon that area, with no Lyney to be seen. Only his smooth voice rings out, “We dearly hope you will enjoy tonight’s spectacle, for we’ve prepared many delightful sights to be seen.” And then silence falls. The spotlight goes out, and everything is left in darkness once more.

Then, suddenly, after a few tense seconds, a burst of orange-red flames and sparks flare across the stage, with Lyney coming swinging down from some kind of trapeze unseen above. He has cards in his hands again, with some sailing in an arch above him, completely defying the laws of physics. “First off, we have a most enthralling extravaganza of pyrotechnics powered by yours truly! If you are afraid of the curtains and surroundings catching fire, not to worry; my first stunt for the evening is this.” With a snap of his fingers, a previously-invisible square in the centre of the stage roars aflame, so bright and hot, the people seated at the front recoil and fan themselves from the heat. Shocked murmurs ripple throughout the crowd, while Lyney grins from his position onstage.

“Oh, yes, I will be walking face-first into this wall of fire.” He pops his hat off his head, spins it smoothly around one finger for a second before holding it out to the audience. “And within my trusty top hat is the sole item to put out this blaze before it burns me up—or will it?” The magician whirls around fluidly on one heel, strolling amiably towards the blustering flames, apparently unaware of the horrified audience who sit, mouths agape, in silence. “Let’s have a look-see, shall we?” Continuing to amble worry-free towards direct danger, he shuffles through the contents of his ‘bottomless’ top hat, humming thoughtfully. “Hm. It appears the item is nowhere to be seen.” Lyney throws an insouciant, catlike grin over his shoulder to the audience. “Any guesses, my lovely guests?” “Where’s Lynette?!” One member yells. “Surely she is the key to putting out the fire before you kill yourself?!”

“Excellent guess! Unfortunately, mon ami, you are wrong.” Lyney continues to meander casually toward the flames, aggravatingly slow, his pace unrelenting. Even though you know he’s going to be fine—at least, you hope so, considering how wrong his last show went—you grip at your seat handle and lean forward breathlessly, bag of conch madeleines lying on your lap, forgotten. The magician then stops in his tracks and swings around on the balls of his feet, pointing to the audience. “One of you shall be my saviour! One of you sits in a seat that holds the ‘key’ to my survival. Which one of you could it be?” The entire procession exchanges glances; people hop up to check their seats, stooping to look underneath and find the item Lyney needs before it’s ‘too late’. The boy grins rather diabolically as he watches everyone fuss about and gradually descend into chaos. You throw a glance in Neuvillette’s direction—although his expression is his usual business-like coolness, there’s a hint of amusement gracing that full mouth of his. He seems to be faintly enjoying the unfolding of such disarray right before him.

“There is hope, all!” Lyney’s sing-song voice abruptly rings out and brings everyone to a halt. “For we are honoured with the presence of two very esteemed guests tonight; I’m sure most of you know who I am talking about…” Suddenly, you’re blinded—your conch madeleines tumble off your lap at your surprise, and you lift a hand to shield your eyes from the intensity of the spotlight now upon you and Neuvillette. “Please give a warm welcome to the one and only Chief Justice, Monsieur Neuvillette—and his lovely wife, Madame Neuvillette!”

“Did—did you know about this?” You hiss at Neuvillette, cheeks hot with humiliation and surprise. You cannot stand being caught off-guard and put in the spotlight—and in this case, you literally are. “What is going on?” “I—I wasn’t told about this,” he whispers hurriedly back, not looking very impressed himself. He stands. “Master Lyney, what is the meaning of this?” “Not to worry, Monsieur!” Lyney jovially responds, completely unbothered by the Iudex’s withering stare, sweeping an elegant arm in your direction. “For, most unexpectedly, the Madame here happens to be seated upon the very means of my viability!”

Confused, you lean forward, mustering the courage to answer, “Young man, it would’ve been more optimal if you had notified me beforehand.”

“But that takes away the wonderful element of surprise, which I strive for!” He doesn’t seem to fully understand the embarrassment he’s forced you into. This is going to make major headlines, and what a headache is that going to be. “So, if you please, Madame—I politely implore you to hand over the item so everything will continue on smoothly!” Something in his tone tells you to do the opposite—and you, genuinely curious as to the full extent of this huge trick he’s playing, go along with it. “…No. I don’t think I will.” The audience gasps, Neuvillette whips around to gawk at you, and Lyney’s eyes light up. Aha.

“Well, then!” The magician feigns betrayal and spins around to saunter toward the inferno once more. “If my lady orders me to, I must oblige!” Settling back down into your seat, you lean your cheek against your hand as you watch on, rather invested. Neuvillette heaves a sigh, sitting down also, and the spotlight disappears from hovering over the both of you. It’s a relief, though the audience takes their time with turning back from gawping at you both as if you were two exotic animals in a zoo. Maybe that is essentially what you are to them. People to idolise, and thus people to ridicule. Society has always been the same.

You had found the ‘item’ Lyney had ‘lost’ under the back cushion of your seat; a small remote-like gadget, its purpose obvious. Along with a small note instructing you what to do and when to do it, you have begun to find this quite amusing, despite the abrupt, rather unideal circumstances.

Apparently, everyone in the audience is concerningly gullible, as they irregularly throw harrowing glares in your direction. How they managed to believe that you’re actually going to let Lyney die in the ‘fire’ beats you. Ignoring them, you await your cue.

Lyney throws one final, beseeching look in your direction (what an astounding actor, you think, impressed), before wailing, “this is the end!” dramatically and stepping entirely into the flames. You’re finding the audience’s reactions much more interesting than the actual show; the majority of the people in attendance gasp and cry out in dismay at Lyney’s ‘demise’. Hitched silence falls, and with no sound from Lyney, you count down in your head for your cue, before hitting the button.

Jazz music blares, the flames intensify, and Lyney’s silhouette is outlined against the curtains’ backdrop as he makes his signature pose. “And there you have it, everyone—Madame Neuvillette is a true heroine!”

Brief silence, and then the entire hall erupts into thunderous applause. It appears as if everyone loves you now. Neuvillette throws you an amused smile, to which you grin back at.

The subsequent acts for the rest of the show were just one amazing spectacle after another—when Lynette came onstage, summoning a mini-tornado (that managed to not make a bit of mess, wondrously) with her Vision that even made your hair blow around a bit, the crowd went crazy. Lyney did some neat tricks for the little children that got them all starry-eyed and excited, Lynette poured a cup of tea from a teapot without even holding it, Lyney presented a young woman in the front row with a bouquet of wildflowers and equally flowery words and the twins ended their show with a most baffling trick shot—Lyney had disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Lynette alone to continue entertainment, before a huge ‘malfunctioning’ Gardemek trudged onstage. And thus did Lynette and the Gardemek ‘spar’—for only a pretend battle, it was really quite realistic and transfixing. The performance displayed Lynette’s combat prowess and her strength intensely, leaving you dazed with admiration. Oh, how I’d love to have a Vision and learn to wield a weapon like that! Another pipe dream of yours, however; it is unlikely that you would ever do anything noteworthy enough to garner a Vision from the gods. It would be cool to have one, but then again, you’re unsure if you’re fully inclined to being ‘favoured’ like so from the divine, considering all of their track records. You’d never been very religious or devout—the Archons’ existence is a given and very much real, however, you just don’t care. You chalk it up to Archons such as Furina giving deities a rather bad look. But that’s a bit biased, you suppose.

Either way, when the two hosts give their graceful bows and farewells with a flourish, you quickly turn to Neuvillette with wide eyes. “Now, wasn’t that just marvellous?”

“It most certainly was,” the man answers, fidgeting with his cravat. It is rather hot in the opera hall, and you quickly stand, ready to depart. Sitting down for two hours certainly is so stiffening; you turn away a bit and stretch, a few bones popping nicely. There’s a rustle of clothing from beside you, and the Iudex holds out an arm. “You enjoyed that, it seems.” “Oh, thoroughly!” You’ve never been to see Lyney and Lynette live before, and you really weren’t disappointed. No wonder they are so famous. “Those two are exceptionally talented at what they do. That performance with the Gardemek and Lynette? Goodness, if only I had a Kamera on me to record it!”

Neuvillette chuckles. “Well, then, it appears you’re quite unbothered by that unexpected little hiccup before.” He smiles down at you. “You looked most uncomfortable and embarrassed, being put on the spot like that. I’m sure they’re relieved you took it the right way in the end.” “Oh, yes, I would’ve appreciated it if they’d let me know beforehand so I could consciously play along and put a bit more of a show,” you say coolly, gathering up your skirts to head down the steps to the ground floor from your seating dock. “But, it turned out for the best, did it not? Though, the audience didn’t like me much.” “C’est la vie, non?” Neuvillette pats your hand amiably. “Such is the life of a high-profile person. It is truly no walk in the park.”

“And you’ve been handling it for centuries, Neuvillette.” You shake your head in slight incredulity, rather confounded at his resilience. Perhaps that’s what you admire about him the most. “It must get so wearisome. Hopefully we will dine in a seat far away from everyone else, and won’t be disturbed by the press.” “It is an Inazuma restaurant; over there, they have little private rooms for people to eat in. It’s the same here.” He guides you toward the entrance, where people are still filing out. “And that reminds me—how about a…stroll on the beach afterwards?”

“That sounds lovely, Neuvillette.” You both stride toward the awaiting carriage. Now you two must travel back to the Court on an aquabus again; at least now, the mood is more relaxed. Best to leave the conversation for what happened in the carriage for another time. You don’t know how you will manage to walk along the sand in your dress, though. “You must be trying to get in as much reprieve as you can before you are drowned in work again, no?” He sighs. “You are correct. And we must prepare for the banquet on Friday. We don’t have to—” “[Name]!” You both pause at the call, and you turn to see Navia waving for you a distance away. She makes her way over, nodding politely to the Chief Justice. “Apologies for interrupting, Your Honour. I just came to greet your wife.”

You’re glad to see her, but you’re not impressed with her tricky wording, again. Neuvillette also looks rather perplexed at her phrasing, but he obscures it well. “Ah, of course, Miss Navia. Would you like me to step away to give you both some privacy?” “No! That’s quite alright, but thank you, Neuvillette,” Navia assures him, beaming. Then she turns to you. “I only came to say hello and goodbye. And that I can’t attend the banquet.”

“What?” Dread pools within you. “Surely you can try to, Navia? How will I manage without you?” “You will manage just fine, actually,” she sternly replies, arching a brow. “You’ve got Neuvillette here and Clorinde just told me she’d be coming along too, having been coerced into it by a certain Archon. So! You’ll have a few friends there. You can’t rely on me forever, you know.” Not wishing to make yourself seem like a helpless child in need of coddling, you stiffly nod at her. “Alright. Where are you going this time, then, if you’re too busy to attend? Not investigating André, I hope.” Navia blinks, before letting out a laugh with the slightest, almost undetectable tremor within it. “No, no, of course not! I’ve got another case on my back, one more demanding, frankly. Well then! I’ll see you sometime soon, okay? Take care!”

You know she’s just running away from you, but you let her go, rather fatigued and, most of all, hungry. You watch Navia’s fading figure for a moment more before turning to the Iudex. “Alright, let’s head off, Neuvillette.”

You have a very busy week ahead of you. You surmise it’s best to do what Neuvillette is doing—savour what reprieve you have left before diving head-first back into the pandemonium Furina so kindly built for you both.

hey guys 🫡 how are y'all...? 🙂

when I said you guys would be out for my blood, I meant it. I can hear the marching, battle cries and war drums already 🥲

ANYWAY! yet another unnecessarily long chapter, but y'all had a long wait so I swooped in for the rescue 🥰 even tho this chapter is a HOT mess, I hoped u all still enjoyed 🙏

they will kiss soon. rest assured. I know it sounds like an empty promise but it WILL happen eventually 🤭 in the very near future 💛 just not yet <3

taglist!

@shiroonekoo @just-here-reading @avyakaslana @eternal-dokja @confusedparticle @xitrinez @tanspostsblog @vcatson @sek0ya @loving-august @mxyarylla @ultigoblin @constantlyoverthinking @pvbbyb0y @lynettezzp @esthelily @furblrwurblr @sangoqueenkoko @lacunaanonymoused

#⌗ ༘ ⋆｡𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐒❜ works #genshin impact #genshin #neuvillette #fontaine #neuvilette genshin #chief justice neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #furina #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bnha smut #bakugou smut #mha smut

900 notes · View notes

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Ok so Ik this has already been done with ej, but I’m a toby simp, and I wanted to ask. Reader finding out toby is cheating on them? Maximum of 1k words, a scenario idk, smth. Ty!

-👾

It's Dangerous, To Love the Sun

[Ticci Toby X F!Reader]

[Warnings: angst in general, physical and emotional cheating, violence, language]

[AN: I listened to Brooksie - Not Into You slowed + reverbed while writing this, I hope you enjoyed! Also went a lil over,,, the word count because I kinda liked this,,,,,,,,,,,]

You love Toby. Ever since he came into your life, you’ve been happier with him at your side. He makes you smile, he makes your heart sing. You’ve never felt so complete.

The way he looks at you is akin to gazing at a masterpiece. His eyes are so full of love when he gazes at you from across the room, wondering when you’ll finally break away from your conversation with Jeff to be at his side again.

His touch is gentle, never harsh. Toby’s fingers trace up and down your forearms and back, ghosts, whisper-like kisses of physical affection in an attempt to show you what he verbally cannot express. He’s always so warm, so loving, so whole.

He completes you, is what you’re trying to get at.

The two of you like to sit on rooftops late at night because neither Masky nor Hoodie can stand the two of you giggling at odd hours of the day in their presence. Kate’s not around long enough to actually care. When it’s just the two of you sitting up here, quiet, against each other and breathing in the sweet night air, you feel more complete than you’ve ever felt before.

You hum out, watching the stars twinkle in the sky, a dreamy expression on your face as Toby momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“What’s o-o-on your mind, b-baby?” He asks, a brow raised. Toby shifts on the shingles, his arms wrapping around you like an octopus, bringing you closer and closer into his warmth.

You find yourself blanketed in him and relax. “You’re so good to me, y’know that?” You say.

Toby scoffs and rolls his eyes. “O-Other way around,” he corrects.

You tilt your head and shake it slightly, telling him he’s wrong. “You’ve always been so good to me,” you continue, brushing off his attempts to play down your saccharine words.

He knows you’re not fibbing, but at the same time, he refuses to admit to your claims. “I d-d-did what w-was expected o-of me, you know t-that,” he states plainly.

You take in another deep breath before resting your head on his shoulder, melting into him. You pick up his scent: oak and burning winter, before retorting against him again in a voice a hair above a whisper. “You’re wrong.”

Toby laughs, his lips pressing to the side of your head. “If y-y-you say so,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your head and eventually your face. He revels in the sound of your laughter as he does so, leaving no inch of you unkissed.

“I know so.”

The two of you fall back into a pleasant silence.

You’ve always viewed Toby like he has power over the sun, because, as far as being a proxy goes? He does. When you were first plucked from your life and called for something ‘greater’, it was Toby who had taken pity on you, trained you, taught you all you needed to know and the ins and outs of this life. He was the one who shielded you from Masky, Hoodie and even Kate at times.

It was by his hand that you survived, and it is still by his hand that you thrive.

It was such a blinding adoration for a man you believed held dominion over the sun that kept you veiled from the truth of what he had been doing behind closed doors, yet could be seen through the windows.

Naturally, you didn’t want to believe it. Who would? The person you love’s heart has fled the place it used to live with you and taken up residence with someone else. That’s not an easy thing to admit, not when you realize that love truly is not all it takes.

Toby doesn’t want to admit it either. It started out as some strange infatuation, a fleeting crush - someone he would forget.

But her eyes? Her darling eyes? One of them the most beautiful shade of peridot he’d ever seen and the other a literal clock? They say the eyes (in her case, eye) are the window to the soul, and she had absolutely snared his. She was beautiful in a way Toby couldn’t describe, beautiful in a way that had him seeing a sky full of stars in the middle of the day, and beautiful in the sense she was timeless.

Toby knows he should be ashamed, that she’s his little secret, that what he has with Natalie can’t be compared with you, but he knows he can’t let you find out lest you go too far you can’t come back.

That blinding sun made you shrug off the bruises that were too keenly placed to be a victim’s sorry attempt at freeing themself. You shrugged off the scent of roses and wine. You shrugged off how his eyes saw past you, no longer at you. You shrugged it all off, choosing to stay blinded than face the truth.

And you would’ve happily lived in that ignorance if Toby didn’t grow cocky and arrogant and so fucking careless.

You’ve never really felt your world crash and burn until today. You've never been burned by the sun until this moment.

You’re looking into the eyes of a man you think owns the sun and see nothing but fear, regret, and pleading. Pleading for what? That you won’t leave him? That you’ll stay with him? You feel tears well in your eyes as you see him laying in your bed with her. The woman who had been naught but a shadow until now.

“R-Reader,” Toby begins, quickly wrestling up in the sheets, watching as your soul leaves your body in the doorway. “B-Baby, it’s n-no-”

You’re at a loss for words, and frankly, you don’t think he even deserves the right to your thoughts at this moment. Instead, you hold your hand up, silencing him, and turn to leave the temp house. You were out doing work for your fucking boss and get rewarded like this? The man you loved in bed with another woman, looking at her like she owned the moon. You take in a sharp breath and then begin to beeline to the front door when Toby finally gets out of the bed, ignoring the cries of confusion pouring from Natalie’s mouth.

Your heart races when you realize Toby is gaining on you. Your vision blurs through your tears.

He’s calling out for you, his stutter even stronger than before, bones popping louder and louder as he gets hit with the weight of what he’s done to you. “Stop! S-Stop fucking m-m-moving!” He hisses, his calloused hand reaching out for your wrist, successfully grabbing you.

You snarl like a caged, wounded animal, flesh burning at the contact. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you sneer as you attempt to rip your wrist from his iron grasp. In your other hand, you already have the car keys ready. You just want to be anywhere but here.

“I-I’m so s-s-sorry,” Toby says, attempting to pull you into a hug.

You struggle against him harder, hissing to be let go. The keys in your free hand are getting threaded in your fingertips. Your tears feel warm and boil your cheeks as they roll down like waterfalls. The harder he grips you, the more you feel you’ve been burned to a point of no return. “God fucking damn it, let me go!” You shout, not even noticing how Natalie has come out of the room to get Toby off of you. She’s quickly gaining in the hallway, confused on if she should step in or not.

Toby tries harder and harder to pull you into his embrace, and that’s when you strike.

You take your car key filled fingers and punch as hard as you can, the teeth of the keys dragging across Toby’s cheek, successfully shocking him into letting you go. You don’t even consider how badly you’ve hurt him and take the opportunity of his shock to flee the temp house, quickly hopping into the car.

“Reader!” Toby shouts, hand on his right cheek, not even caring about the claw marks you’ve left. “B-Baby, let’s t-talk about t-this-”

You start honking the horn to drown his voice out. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a scowl on your face, glare holding nothing but bullets towards Toby and Natalie as she attempts to wrangle him back into the house.

You watch as her arms wrap around his waist - she’s surprisingly gentle for dealing with such a belligerent man - before peeling out of the driveway, hand still honking the horn and practically waking up the neighborhood while you’re at it.

Your mind overloads as you drive, thoughts of the sun getting eclipsed by the other celestial body that overtakes it in full, swallowing it whole. You mutter angrily to yourself, turning on the radio for just noise as you finally get onto the expressway. And you drive. You drive until your head feels clear again, and when it does, you’re finally able to focus on something other than what’s in front of you on the endless stretch of road.

Autumn is making its way in, that much is apparent. Every now and then, specks of orange and red zip past your high beams. It’s cooler, and you swear you’ve passed a few flowering pumpkin patches.

You look to your left, gazing out the window for a moment or so.

The moon is decidedly absent this night.

You sigh as the fires extinguish in your heart, loneliness, sadness and any other emotion draining alongside it leaving a pit in your chest.

The emptiness quickly takes its place, haunting you like the ghost it is.

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #reader insert #ticci toby x y/n #clockwork #natalie ouellette #angst

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kohanayaki · 3 years

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.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 7

Severus looks back on everything that went wrong.

tw: non-consensual kissing/harassment, trauma responses

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Things Unforgivable and Things Left Unsaid:.

Graduation day at Hogwarts was supposed to mark the beginning of a new adventure for you. Instead, it marked the day you decided that whatever it was between you and Severus Snape, friendship or otherwise, it was over.

Or at least that's what you had thought. Of course, the universe just loved making things more complicated for you. You were working with Charlie in Romania when you had gotten word that Severus defected from the death eaters and was now working as a double agent at Dumbledore's behest. He continued teaching Potions at Hogwarts, and was even indited as a member of the Order. If anything, that only solidified your decision to go to America instead of staying in London. You didn't even know what to think. Of course you trusted Dumbledore, confusing as the man was, but you didn't know if you could really trust Snape again. You had worked towards forgiving him; over time you moved past what happened, but it was difficult to really say it was 'resolved' when you quite literally haven't spoken a word to each other in over a decade. You didn't even know where to start.

For the entirety of your seventh year, you didn't speak a word to Severus. It was hard to imagine that such a tight knit trio like the one you, him, and Lily had formed could crumble in an instant, but that's exactly what happened.

The end of your sixth year at Hogwarts was a quarter Snape would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was when everything fell apart. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1976 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, running to the top of the hill where he and the rest of the Marauders had Snape held upside down.

“What are you doing?” you said, immensely hurt and trying to keep your voice steady, “You said this would stop, you promised. . . you swore.”

“(Y/n), I. . .” James trailed off, immediately feeling guilty. As he turned to you Snape dropped to the ground, attempting to scramble to his feet but finding his ankle twisted.

Sirius moved towards you to say something but you put your hand up firmly.

“No,” you said, “not a word out of you, Black.”

Sirius stared at you, wide-eyed, shrinking back as you called him by his last name for the first time in a long while. Not Sirius, not Pads. Black. As if your whole friendship had just been reset.

“And you two,” you said, addressing Remus and Peter, “how could you let this happen?!”

All four boys looked at you in shame, none of them daring to verbally respond.

Suddenly, Lily came running up the hill, having fallen behind you in your quick pace.

“Severus!” she panted, rushing over to him, “are you alright?”

Snape was in an angered daze, not even registering the words being said around him. The blood rushing through his veins felt like lava, his heart pounding in his ears, his chest, his tongue. His face burned with humiliation and hatred. Pure fucking hatred for James Fleamont Potter. For Lily to see him like that. . . for you to see him like that, pathetic, helpless, in need of your help once again. He wouldn't have it. He was a master of the dark arts now, he didn't have to fucking take this. He would curse Potter into the next century, he would—

“Severus!”

Snape's eyes snapped open, not even realizing they were closed. The world came rushing in around him and he was suddenly acutely aware of Lily's hand on his arm. He reeled back at her touch as if he'd been burned.

“Don't touch me!” he screeched, startling the redheaded girl. Her eyes were filled with concern, but all Snape could see was pity.

“Sev—“

“I don't need any help from you, you filthy Mudblood!”

And everyone in the clearing stilled.

The color drained from Snape's already pale face as he realized what he'd just said.

“Lily. . .” Severus whispered; pleading, desperate.

“Don't come any closer,” Lily said, her voice stone cold as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'll kill you,” James said lowly.

“Prongs, no—”

“I'll kill you, you slimy bastard!” James growled, Remus moving quickly to hold him back.

You stood in the middle of it all, staring at Severus. Severus, who'd always told Lily that blood status didn't matter. Severus, who you and Lily always stood up for no matter what. Severus, who you thought you had feelings for up until this exact moment.

Without even thinking you stepped forward, grabbing Lily's hand.

“Let's go, Lils,” you said, your expression unreadable as you looked down at Severus. Lily squeezed your hand back gratefully, fighting the sobs racking her chest as she turned around and took off with you.

“(Y/n), wait—” Snape tried to get up but found himself shoved back down to the ground by Sirius.

“No,” he said sharply, “you don't get to say anything to either of them, you hear me?”

“I—”

“What?” James spat, “you're sorry? Well sorry doesn't cut it! You say a word to her after what you called her and you'll wish you'd never have been born.”

Snape's head hung low, that wish already present in his mind.

“Leave him,” Remus said, this time not out of mercy, but malice; letting Snape wallow in his own misery as he left with his friends, looking for you and Lily.

Soon, Severus was left alone. Just as he began, and just as he should have never hoped for anything different. Was this it? That's how it was going to end? One mistake, and the only two people he'd ever cared about were ripped away from him.

No. He decided he had to apologize properly, consequences be damned. If those Marauders wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp afterwards, that was fine by him. He just needed to talk to Lily one more time. To tell her how deeply sorry he really was.

He took off down the hill, sprinting towards the castle and completely ignoring the burning pain in his ankle. He rushed through the grass, ignoring the looks he received from the other students walking by. He ran past the oak tree, through the castle gates, flying through the corridors and cutting across the courtyard when he skid to a stop at what he saw.

Lily and James stood in the center of the garden, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips captured hers. Her eyes were still wet with tears, the tears that he had caused. Severus didn't do a thing. His presence remained unknown to them as he slunk away back to his common room, heart silently breaking.

He was too late.

Nothing was the same after that.

Lily insisted that if you wanted to remain friends with Snape, as she now referred to him, she wouldn't hold it against you, but she made it very clear that she would never forgive him herself. But it wasn't as easy as wanting to stay friends with him or not; he'd changed that day.

After some time to let things settle down you tried to approach him, but he only became more and more hostile towards everyone, including you. You hardly saw him anymore. The only time you occasionally spotted him was when he was walking around school with Malfoy, Mulciber, Wilkes, and Avery, unable to look you in the eye lest you see the utterly crushed expression on your face as he fell deeper and deeper into the dark side.

You held your books tightly to your chest as you made your way to Hagrid's hut for one of your last Care of Magical Creatures class. You were being paired up with a few lower classmen to teach them the ropes for feeding all the creatures Hagrid kept in the meadows. You were a tad late, having been preoccupied at lunch, speedwalking to try and arrive on time when you saw a flash of silver-blue light emit from inside the forest. You could hear warbled shouting and laughter coming from the same direction, and your instincts told you to run.

However, because your nerves were on high alert, that also told you someone in there was in danger, and you couldn't just walk away from that. You drew your wand, abandoning your books by a rockface and moving towards the commotion, the distorted shouting soon becoming words.

“Oh come on, you little runts, you lot can do better than that!” you recognized Mulciber's voice.

A young girl shrieked as a giant acromantula barred its fangs at her, its front legs raised and poised to attack. Her friends were huddled in a corner, more students who couldn't have been older than second or third years, being forced to watch by Avery and Wilkes.

“How's this for Care of Magical Creatures, eh?” Mulciber taunted as he walked over to the other students, pulling a young boy out from the group.

“No!” the girl cornered by the spider cried, “please, don't!”

“Aw, how cute,” Mulciber drawled, “is this your little boyfriend, huh? Shame.”

The boy screamed in fear as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his ankles, forced to hover right above the spider just out of its reach. You wanted to wretch as you watched the scene unfold, unable to keep yourself hidden any longer.

You leaped into the clearing, a quick flick of your wrist relieving Mulciber of his wand. You did the same to Wilkes as he turned to you.

“Well well, why am I not surprised?” Avery scoffed. Right behind him stood Severus, his expression vacant.

“Grab this, and get to Professor McGonagall immediately,” you shouted to the younger Gryffindor students, tossing them a gold galleon. As soon as they touched the coin, the portkey shot them all back to the castle.

“Why are you always the one spoiling our fun?” Mulciber sneered.

“Someone's gotta do it,” you said, putting up a brave front although you were under no illusion as to your situation. You weren't fourth years anymore, and you were alone this time. They'd been studying the dark arts for the past two years. You knew you were outmatched, even with your dueling skills.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be a bore.”

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice to see Rosier, an easy grin set into his face. Your heart dropped.

“So you too, huh?” you chuckled bitterly, “and here I thought you were one of the few good ones left.”

“You're not really that naive, are you?” he tutted, “you had to have known I would be inducted eventually. Might even get Barty to join us, even if he is a little nutty.”

You went for a stunning spell but found your wand spinning out of your hand before you even saw him move.

“Not so fun to be on the receiving end, is it?” Rosier said, “you're not the only one versed in non-verbal magic, (Y/n). In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we've surpassed you. Lucius will be furious, but I like you a lot, so I'll re-extend his old offer for him. Join us.”

You had no wand, no backup, no way out of this, but you stood your ground nonetheless.

“Eat shit,” you seethed. Rosier glowered at you, taking a few menacing steps forward. He grabbed your jaw firmly and you grit your teeth.

“I don’t think you heard me—”

He reeled back as you spit right in his face,

“You bitch,” he growled, wiping his face in disgust, “clearly no one ever bothered to train you.”

Without your wand you were really only left with one option, ready to defend yourself by revealing your animagus form, but you never got to take the first step forward.

“Imperio!”

You stopped in your tracks as a veil of what could only be described as pink fluff drifted over your mind. A smile immediately appeared on your face, and a giggle rose in your throat.

Severus looked at Rosier with horror, the rest of his crew looking among themselves uneasily.

“What do you think you're doing?” Snape hissed, “are you trying to get us all expelled?”

“So what?” Rosier said, “we've used the killing curse loads of times.”

“On insects, you loon,” Snape shot back, hoping his concern for you was masked enough.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your precious (Y/n), Sev.”

The nickname made his stomach churn. You used to call him that. Lily used to call him that. No one else did. No one else got to.

“Release them,” he said, raising his wand, “now.”

“Put that away,” Rosier's eyes narrowed, a smirk sliding back onto his face as he got an idea, “hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?” you answered, your voice dripping with honey.

“I don't think Severus likes you being under this spell,” Rosier said, “but you like it don't you?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded, your head feeling like it was floating, “it feels so nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice?” Rosier goaded, “if you gave our friend Sev here a kiss.”

Severus' heart dropped to his stomach.

“You're sick, Rosier,” Snape said, his voice close to tremmoring.

“You don't have to act like you don't want it,” Evan chuckled, “we've watched you putz around (L/n) like a fool for years. Besides, they want to. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?”

“He's right,” you said, your voice deceptively melodic, “I love you, Severus. I've always loved you.”

And in that moment, Snape had never hated himself more. Because he didn't care that Rosier was making you say the things you did. He didn't care that you were under the influence of a curse. All he could hear was the words he longed to hear spill from your lips, over and over like a skipping record.

I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus. I love you, Severus.

He played the words on repeat in his head. His heart was beating almost painfully in his chest, so much so that he hardly even noticed you slowly walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck like Lily had done to James. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, his selfish desires held him in place.

It had lasted a fraction of a second, but he didn't pull away. It was the greatest regret of his life that he didn't walk up to Rosier, break his nose, and curse every single person in that clearing instead of doing nothing, knowing full well you had no control over your actions.

When his eyes drifted open and met yours and his stomach twisted into ugly knots, fear and panic wracking through his spine. Your eyes were completely empty, irises a vacant white, and in that moment it felt as if he were kissing a corpse.

Suddenly the color returned to your eyes, and fear immediately filled them. Snape grunted as he was shot away from you, unable to move when he hit the ground. The other Slytherins looked around for the assailant, but they had no time to react when every single one of their wands was pulled from their hands. McGonagall stood there, expression the same as ever but clearly brimming with fury.

“(L/n), come,” she said, ushering you over and taking you protectively in her embrace, “we'll get you to Madame Pomfrey.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she regarded Snape and the rest of their group, “As for you,” she said, “Mr Filch, secure them in the dungeons until the Headmaster calls for them. And put all of their wands in the lockbox.”

“With pleasure,” Filch said, almost blending in with the trees behind her.

“Are you alright?” McGonagall asked you as she helped you back towards the castle.

“No,” you said, honestly, “n-no, I don't think I am.”

“No amount of apology could ever equate to the remorse I feel that this happened to you, (L/n),” she said earnestly, “I am truly sorry. This was completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that the proper measures are taken for their punishments. Expulsion would suit just fine, but even if the Headmaster disagrees, I will personally ensure you never come into contact with any of those boys again.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice sounding hollow in your own ears.

You didn't remember walking the near half-mile to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey's words felt so far away, as if she were speaking underwater. You just remembered laying down in the hospital wing bed as she checked you for any lasting damage, and as soon as she'd turned her back you'd just wept.

________________________________________________________

That night, Snape found himself in the Prefect's bathroom, leaned over the sink and watching the water rush into the drain. His hands clutched the marble sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white, every breath catching painfully in his chest before he forced it out to take another shaky inhale. He was an idiot, he knew. There was no fixing this. Not really. First Lily, now you. Was he just predestined to lose everyone in his life?

He paused. No, he didn't deserve to think like that. Everything that had gone wrong was his own doing.

When he heard the door to the bathroom open he whipped around, ready to curse whoever dared to interrupt him until he saw you standing there, your eyes red from crying and the Marauder's Map clutched in your hands like a vice. He was half certain you were a hallucination, but as soon as he pulled himself to the present, he rushed to apologize. You had to know how horrible he felt about what he did, even if you would never forgive him. He made the mistake of being too cowardly to properly apologize to Lily, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

“(Y/n), I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” you said callously, “and I know you mean it. That's not the issue.” you took a breath to collect yourself before you continued. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. Maybe this wound really was too fresh right now. You thought you'd be able to handle this conversation, but your prior feelings weren't making this any easier.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, “Better, why did you do nothing? You were my friend, Severus.”

Whatever was holding back the flood of emotions in him, it snapped at your words.

Were. Past tense.

“I don't know what I was thinking,” Snape said in exasperation, though it came off more as anger directed at himself. His hands threaded through his messy black locks, his eyes nearly manic. You'd never seen him unravel quite like this. He was desperate to fix this, to keep you in his life. “No, I wasn't thinking at all, (Y/n). I couldn't, not when you were . . . not when I. . .”

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

“Not when I've fancied you for years.”

Snape knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The expression on your face made his stomach twist, and he knew there was no taking back what he said.

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes, “Severus Snape, don't you dare say that. What, do you think that just makes this all okay? You're an oblivious idiot, you know that?”

Your heart ached so bad it felt as if you couldn't breathe.

“Do you know how many times I wished you would have kissed me?” you said shakily, not bothering to hide the hurt in your voice.

Snape was sure his breathing had stopped, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard that right. Did you really feel the same way about him? But reality hit him in the face when he saw your expression. This was no heartfelt confession on your part.

“For you to just. . . for it to happen like that,” you said, still struck with betrayal and disbelief, “If you've ever respected me, you never would have let that happen. I was under a curse, Severus. And you took advantage of that— of me. All because you were too much of a coward to just tell me how you felt. And then you go on and say you've liked me this whole time as a last ditch effort to save our friendship? How the hell did you expect me to react?”

He had nothing to say to that. He blamed himself entirely. Every verbal blow you struck he gladly took, he would have sat there still as stone if you hexed him, but you refused to draw your wand at him. You just stood there, staring straight through him with unbelievable hurt in your eyes.

“I can't do this, Severus,” you said, “please, just. . . just leave me alone. I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, but right now I can't even begin to think about that. Not now.”

You looked like you wanted to say something more, but your mouth snapped shut, and Severus saw the finality in your eyes. He stayed glued to the spot where he stood long after he watched you leave, his eyes trained on the door you'd slammed shut.

If you thought Snape had made himself scarce after what he said to Lily, after what he did to you he practically vanished. He no longer sat underneath the tree that had become so symbolic of your former trio. He no longer roamed the Slytherin common room, or even the Great Hall for meals. Instead he would walk through the forbidden forest alone, or hole up in some empty corridor purposely hiding but hoping you would walk up to him. You never did.

The people who did find him in the few days that followed were the newly named Marauders, though incomplete as they arrived without you. As he glanced down at the parchment in Lupin's hand he had no questions about how they'd located him. Snape grimaced, not bothering to get up from his seat beneath the stone pillar. Anything they did to him was what he deserved.

James stepped forward from the group first. His expression was unreadable, but Snape saw the way his jaw was set firmly in place, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The Slytherin had expected Potter to come at him guns blazing, sending a flurry of verbal attacks and hexes his way. However, James Potter simply stared down at his former enemy with a look that met in the intersection of barely contained anger and utter disappointment.

“You didn't deserve them,” he said coldly, his voice oddly level.

“I know,” Snape glared, but not feeling very self-righteous.

“No, you don't,” James said, his voice rising steadily, “you will never know what you put them through. You sat there while your lunatic friends used an Unforgivable Curse on them, and you took advantage of them. I don't care if you know, I'm going to throw it back in your face, because it's what you deserve.”

“I think it's clear that (Y/n) doesn't wish to speak with you any longer,” Remus said, “if for some inconceivable reason they want to in the future, they'll approach you. Don't you even think about going about it the other way around before they're ready and willing to talk. If they ever are.”

“It's settled, Severus,” James said simply, “you're officially not worth our time anymore.”

Snape blinked up at him, trying to recall a time when Potter had ever called him by his actual name.

“Don't get us wrong,” Sirius glared, “the only reason we aren't throwing you to the Womping Willow is because we know the last thing (Y/n) would want is her friends getting expelled because of them.”

“We'll leave you alone now,” Peter said grimly, “just like you've always wanted.”

And they were telling the truth. They left him completely alone, not speaking a word to him after that; 'they' now including you and Lily, which destroyed him more than any amount of bullying had before. He watched from afar as you grew closer and closer to the Marauders. . . no, you were a Marauder. It was only natural that you became almost like a family in your seventh year. You, James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, and Lily had become as inseparable as Snape thought you, him, and Lily were, but he'd ruined that. He had ruined every good thing that had ever happened to him and pushed away every important person in his life.

The last time he saw you was graduation day. Everyone was running around excitedly, dressed in the ceremonial jewel-toned robes of their respective houses as they awaited Dumbledore's speech. You had been sitting with your group as usual, now having carved out your own spot at the Gryffindor table, when you noticed that Snape was nowhere to be found.

You frowned, wondering why he of all people had to slip into your mind on a day like today.

“You alright, Fangs?”

Sirius' voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, I'm fine. . .”

His handsome features contorted in concern, but that easy grin slid back onto his face as he nudged you with his shoulder.

“What, you worried you're gonna miss us?” he smirked, “this isn't goodbye, you know. We'll all see each other at the Order meetings—”

“Which you always seem to talk about at an extraordinary volume,” Remus shushed him pointedly. Sirius brushed him off with a roll of his eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure nothing's wrong?” James asked from across the table.

“I'm alright, Prongs,” you said, “I just. . . you know what? I just remembered I left something in my dorm, I'll be right back.”

Your friends exchanged worried glances as you got up from the table, taking off towards the Slytherin common room. It wasn't a total lie, but your intentions went against your better judgment. After today there was a very, very good chance you would never see Severus again. What he did wasn't okay by any means, and it would take more than an apology or a simple conversation to forgive him, but you needed closure at the very least. Not for him, but for you. You deserved that much.

You swiped the map off your bedside table and opened it fully, your eyes quickly picking out Severus' name near the cellars only a few rooms away from where you were. You took off quickly down the hall, reaching the intersection where all the dungeon's corridors converged when you spotted him. Your heart stopped.

His left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, as was the person's standing across from him, their back to you. Even though you couldn't see the second person's face, you recognized who it was immediately.

Evan Rosier.

He wasn't on the map before. . . how had he gotten in?! He'd been expelled after the day he cursed you. Did he somehow find a way to bypass the anti-apparition charm?

You felt your breathing hitch, fear creeping under your skin. There, on both of their arms, was a tattoo of a skull, a serpent weaving its way through the mouth and eye sockets in an undeniable pattern. You stopped breathing all together. You knew Severus had fallen into the dark arts, but to actually be a death eater? To be proudly showing off that awful display of radicalism along with the person who had used an Unforgivable Curse on you, who had invaded your free will and taken over your body. . .

Severus must have felt you even from the opposite side of the hallway, because something pricking at his skin told him to look up, and when he did he wished he never had. You were looking at him for the first time in over a year, your eyes full of terror. Rosier followed his gaze, but when he looked over his shoulder there was no one there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus sighed, trying to push the less than pleasant memories out of his head. He knew by now he was likely the last person left in the house besides you, Harry, and Sirius who were all staying here. Something like hope had sparked in his chest when he saw the faintest ghost of a smile on your lips as you saw him for the first time since graduation. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you he knew he deserved nothing from you, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it right if you would only give him a chance after all this time. In truth, he missed his friend. With Lily gone, you were one of the closest things he had to that left.

Against his better judgment, Severus made his way up the stairs, silent as a thestral as he headed for your room, but he stopped in his tracks when he reached the top. Sirius' door was cracked open the slightest bit, and what Snape saw inside made his blood run cold. You were sitting next to Sirius on his bed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. As you craned your neck to look Sirius in the eyes, that's when Severus saw it— the way the Marauder looked at you. The way his face seemed to light up, the spark that returned to his gray eyes, the utter adoration in them.

And just like that, Snape was a seventeen year old boy again, transported right back to that courtyard garden, watching Lily and James share their first kiss on the day he had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. His heart shattered silently, though his departure was not so quiet as he took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. He grimaced at his own feelings, ones he knew he had no business owning.

As he was about to open the front door to leave, his instincts suddenly screamed at him to turn around, and he was just barely able to cast an invisibility charm as you began to come down the stairs. He held his breath as he looked at you. He knew he had no right to think so, but you were still beautiful like this; dressed in pajamas, hair disheveled, eyes still sightly puffy and red. He saw you look around, knowing you had no doubt heard his rather noisy descent of the staircase, and he cursed himself for not leaving sooner. Your eyes searched what should have appeared to be the empty space in front of you, but he saw you look him in the eyes, and he knew that you knew.

“Severus?” you called his name out softly, and the sound felt like a strike to his face.

He wanted nothing more than to say something to you, talk to you, hold you. But his mind flashed back to the way you had been with Sirius, and his words died in his throat. He said nothing, trying to remain unphased at your hurt expression as you turned around to walk back up the stairs. As soon as your back was turned to him, he left, unable to bring himself to do anything more.

Once again, he was too late.

Read chapter 8 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius

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sundayswiththeilluminati · 3 years

Text

The unplanned fourth part to my apparently-a-series on Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage (parts 1, 2, and 3), today we look at an aspect of his story that doesn’t always apply in a D&D world: how do you prosecute espionage?

Psych! That’s not the real question. The real question is: do you prosecute espionage? The answer is a) not as obvious as it might seem; and b) going to differ between D&D and the real world, because D&D governments are storytelling tools and IRL governments are...not.

The benefits of prosecuting espionage are obvious: the interests of justice are served, the person responsible can be punished appropriately and in accordance with the law, the full extent of their crimes are revealed (including potentially exonerating other suspects), counterintelligence gets to chalk up a win, and other people thinking about committing espionage themselves are hopefully discouraged. But there are a surprising number of arguments in the “against” column.

Some agencies that identify enemy assets want to leave them in place for their own purposes. For about 20 years during the Cold War CIA reserved the right to just plain not tell the Department of Justice if they had proof someone was engaged in espionage because they wanted the opportunity to turn them as double agents, feed them misinformation, etc. rather than outing and punishing them (President Gerald Ford ended this arrangement by executive order in 1976). This isn’t necessarily a good idea IRL, but it forms the bread and butter of RPG espionage storylines and is definitely something to think about in a D&D context.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after a trial, and an agency often finds itself with sufficient evidence to doubt a person’s trustworthiness but not enough hard proof to take to court. In those cases agencies may decide to leave that person in place but cut off their access to classified info. Ironically, sometimes this means promoting them - moving the person into a higher-ranking job in a different area that just so happens not to deal in secrets. Sometimes the asset realizes they’re close to being rumbled and goes along with the effort, maybe taking retirement early or changing jobs before they can be pushed, and the whole matter will quietly lapse without anything so formal as a trial. Sometimes someone makes a mistake and sidelines a loyal, competent employee. That’s a judgement call.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after an open trial. Given how severe the punishments are for espionage, civilized countries do try to stick to that even though holding such a trial carries risks. Providing proof that someone stole secrets generally requires talking about said secrets, which means revealing classified info in court, which may negate trying to keep the information secret in the first place. They may also not want to reveal in court how they figured out that person was a spy, especially if it was a double agent or cryptographic source that fingered them. In D&D-land where monarchs are common and still wield judicial power, fantasy rulers may hand down whatever punishment they please based on whatever evidence they (or the DM) will accept, so this isn’t as much of a concern.

Even a D&D monarchy that doesn’t have to worry about revealing secrets in court might think twice before publicly punishing a high-ranking spy, though, because the only thing more embarrassing than failing to convict a major spy is succeeding. A government having to admit that its people were compromised, especially high-ranking people, is a body-blow to its standing both at home and abroad. It damages trust in the government, makes the public feel unsafe, and makes allies hesitant to share information lest their secrets be leaked as well. Lower-ranking government employees may think, “My boss is selling secrets, why not me too?” or “Why bother to follow security protocol when some mole will give it all away?” Every decision and contribution made by the asset becomes retroactively suspect, even those that had nothing to do with whatever secrets they leaked. The foreign nation to whom they passed information inevitably gets drawn in as well, negatively affecting those relations. And of course everyone involved looks very, very bad.

All of which leads me to say I think there’s a chance - maybe not a good chance, but a chance - that Essek could privately confess the affair to the Bright Queen without major public repercussions. Leylas Kryn could simply declare him a traitor and order his public execution without justifying herself, but it would raise a lot of questions and none of the answers would help her or the ruling dens; Den Thelyss allowing Den Kryn to unilaterally execute a high-profile member - a child of the umavi - without explanation would stoke ferocious rumors about what Essek might have done and cast a major shadow over the entire den. But publicly declaring what Essek had done also doesn’t do the Dynasty any favors. It makes everyone involved look very bad - how could they miss a spy at the highest level? so close to the Bright Queen herself?? who can be trusted??? - especially Den Thelyss, which might lose its place among the ruling three as a result. Publicly outing such a high-ranking Kryn official as compromised might set off the Dynasty equivalent of a Red Scare, too, since the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount mentions the constant and well-justified Dynasty fear of agents sent by Lolth to destabilize the Kryn out of sheer spite that they got away from her.

By the time Campaign 2 ended the latest clash between Empire and Dynasty had been settled and neither side seemed to want to stir it up again right away. The fact that both stolen beacons have been returned also bolsters the case for letting the matter lie. A confession from Essek clears up remaining doubt on the Bright Queen’s end - while he doesn’t know every Empire agent in the Dynasty, he can tell her exactly how the beacons were stolen and who else was involved, probably clearing the names of many currently under suspicion. Essek would have to resign as Shadowhand, of course, and leave the Dynasty (at least for a couple centuries), but he never seemed interested in being Shadowhand and he wants to go exploring anyway. Den Thelyss definitely wants the whole affair swept under the rug and would go along with whatever story made that happen. Other than Verin I don’t get the impression many people would miss Essek except as a lost opportunity. I hope they’d give him long enough before leaving Rosohna to pack up his cool leyline-weathervane though. He could totally mount that on Yussa’s tower. Or Allura’s!

And that concludes this particular train of thought re: Essek Thelyss in the context of IRL spies and espionage. Again, all of this is only as relevant to the campaign as the players decide it is, so don’t go giving people crap for being “unrealistic” about their versions of how the beacon trade went down. Frankly the last thing you should want here is realism, because “realistic” espionage is a callous world of deception, manipulation, and general human pettiness with no sense of narrative flow.

None of what I’ve talked about is an excuse for Essek’s actions. But it is a reason. It’s why and how a person entrusted with precious national assets could get into a headspace where it seems reasonable, even necessary, to trade them away to foreign enemies. It’s how a person of otherwise decent character & beliefs can end up committing terrible crimes. It’s why that person might sincerely regret what they’ve done, and not just because they fear punishment. The Warmind Rasputin paraphrases Octavia E. Butler saying, “Misdirected by accident or intent, intelligence can foster its own ecstasies of growth and decay.” In other words: sometimes you get too far into your own head. Without an anchor to reality, without perspective, your own mind gets twisted up. Sometimes you just need a friend (or seven) to grab your arm and say, “Breathe.”

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Critical Role spoilers #not really but just to be safe #Essek Thelyss #CR meta #hey let's talk about Cold War espionage!#trufax #And That's What I Think About That.#words words words #I hope you like words #this poor foolish drow #bless this dumbass #it's been a long pandemic

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Yellow Carnations (Destiny Written in Begonias Part 1)

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Summary: After hearing something deep within the woods, you give into curiosity and investigate. Who knows, whatever you find could be a prize.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly graphic violence (just some zombies getting dismembered)

Word count: 3,715

(A/N): So, welcome to my new series! I have so many ideas for this that I’d love to write. This story will be very gay, fluffy, and sorta angsty, so buckle up my children!

So just a lil background info: the reader is Techno’s adopted daughter. She is a piglin hybrid, but she is more human looking than piglin. This takes place about eighteen years after the most recent events of the SMP.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Techno, I think we have enough ender pearls for tonight.” You glanced to your side to look at your father and Philza, the enchantments of their armor glowing dimly in the moonlight and the orange light of the torches in their hands. Philza stretched his body and his wings out, a small groan escaping his mouth and small cracks sounding from his joints.

“The night’s still young, Phil!” Technoblade grinned, his gold capped canines glinting slightly. His hand moved to gently rest on the handle of his sword.

You snorted to yourself, “you two, however, aren’t.” A small shove came from your side making you stumble slightly, laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t hear anything,” Philza crossed his arms and looked off to the side. Though, you could hear a smile in his tone and the beginnings of a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, “Dad set me up for that one. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”

“I’ll set you up for longer training sessions if you keep going for… ‘opportunities’ like that.” He glanced down at you with amusement glinting in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.

His statement, though lighthearted, immediately made you stop laughing. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking; the last time you laughed it off you had to endure two extra hours on top of the four hour sessions you had daily. By the end of the punishment, your arms felt like they were going to fall off.

“No! I take it back, you guys are young! Not a single-”

“You’re digging yourself an early grave if you finish that sentence, kid. Besides, you can’t pass up opportunities like these!”

“I think I’m good for now,” you shivered slightly when a breeze blew past you. It was starting to grow colder as the night dragged on. Technoblade, noticing this, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him securely. Though the Blood God never shows mercy, he couldn’t let his only child succumb to a head cold; that’d just be barbaric.

You jumped at the feeling of the freezing netherite making contact with your bare arm. “Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, “forgot how cold the armor is… We should probably head back, it’s getting cold.”

As your family started to make their way back towards the tundra, banter was exchanged between the three. The journey out of the forest was uneventful, only a few mobs had attempted to attack or sneak behind you. Just as you reached the edge of the forest, a noise caught your attention.

It sounded like it was only a couple of minutes away; so faint that if you weren’t actively listening for it, it would have nearly been lost in the night. If you strained your ears, you could hear the trampling of dry leaves making you assume that there were several people or animals in that area. Alongside it, there was a faint whimpering.

Your curiosity was piqued, just what was making that noise?

“(Y/n), is everything alright?” You looked back at Philza. It seemed that they walked a bit away from you while you stopped at the forest’s edge to listen to the sound.

You absentmindedly nodded, “yeah, Uncle Phil. I think I left my bow back in that clearing when we were taking a break so I’m just going to go grab that. You guys can keep going home, I’ll be right behind you.”

“We can go with you-”

“No, you don’t have to. I’m old enough to go alone.”

Philza and Technoblade then spoke at the same time, “alright, we’ll just meet you there.” “Absolutely not.”

Philza elbowed Technoblade’s side lightly and looked up at him. They were silently communicating with pointed looks and pursed lips, every expression understood completely by the other. You never understood how they did that, even if they raised you. You could remember making a journal dedicated to deciphering their expressions, but you never could truly understand it (that, and ‘nose scrunch and eye narrow’ meant multiple things).

Eventually, Technoblade’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand down his face tiredly, “you know the rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Fight to win, go for the throat, if you lose your weapon go for the pressure points. You remind me daily.”

He stared at you for a moment before his ear flicked, “don’t take long, we’ll be waiting.” They both turned and started to trudge towards the spruce forest in the distance.

Without a second thought, you ran into the forest with your ears perked. Following the noise was easy, the whimpers had turned into high pitched whines. You leapt over stumps and ducked under low hanging branches as they blocked your way; nothing was going to stop you from finding out what was making that noise.

Eventually, you broke through the trees and found yourself in a grassy clearing surrounded by large stones. If it were spring, you’d imagine wildflowers sprouting everywhere you stepped. A small spring sat in the furthest corner of it, waterfalls cascading over the jagged stones and crashing into the water below. Near the cliffside, a hoard of groaning zombies swarmed something and they were closing in on it. Now, what was it they were attacking?

You quickly unsheathed your golden sword and sprinted towards the hoard. The crunching of the dried, colorful leaves under your feet was enough to drag the zombies’ attention to you.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you made your first swipe at one of their torsos. In an instant, the zombie was bisected and fell to the ground. With a twirl, you slashed at multiple zombies at once. They all collapsed to the ground as their rotting flesh was torn and couldn’t support their crumbling bodies any longer.

As soon as all of the zombies were laying dead on the ground, you wiped your blade off on one of their torn tunics and sheathed it. Taking a step back to look at the bodies littered on the floor, you smirked; this was too easy.

Now, without the obstacles, your prize awaits you. Eagerly, you looked over to see what the zombies were swarming. Instead of the scared villager you were expecting, the person that stood there completely took your breath away.

The woman was wearing a simple white dress with a baby blue shawl shadowing the upper part of her face. Her skin was fair and her face was round, a button nose laid in the center of her face and plump pink lips slightly parted showing off straight white teeth. Curly dark brown hair framed the sides of her face and spiraled down to rest on her shoulders.

She was tall for a human, about five-foot-ten if you were to estimate. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her elegantly, your eyes catching sight of light blue nailpolish decorating her perfectly shaped nails.

Red was starting to dust her cheeks and her breathing was starting to return to normal. That was good, at least she wasn’t going into shock. For someone who nearly got eaten alive by the undead, she looked relatively calm and well put together.

“Are you alright?” You tried to keep your voice even, but there was a light wobble to it. You thickly swallowed, cursing yourself for showing any emotion in front of this stranger. The mask that hid the upper part of your face gave you a sense of security and safety, it hid most of your emotion.

You saw her lips move, but no sound came out. Were you going deaf like your father? You shouldn’t be; you haven’t blown up an entire nation yet. You stepped closer in hopes of hearing her better, “excuse me?”

Her lips curled up into a smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, “Oh, I just said that I’m fine, nothing else. May I get the name of my knight in shining armor?”

Her voice was soft and light. Though it was on the deeper side, it had feminine, euphonious undertones; it was like honey was dripping out with every word she spoke. Just by the way she spoke, you assumed that she came from the nearby kingdom.

You smirked, playing along with the small game she was setting up. Stepping closer and kneeling, you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips. Her hands were soft and velvety, a part of you longed to hold it in yours all day long.

Against her knuckles, you spoke, “(Y/n) Blade at your service. And you, my fairest lady?”

“Princess Helen Dahlia Eret, but please, call me Dahlia; Helen was my mother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You snorted, she was really dedicated to this game. You’d just play along with her, why not? It’s not like you have anything else to do. “Well, princess, it’s about time for you to head back to your castle.”

You looked up at her through your eyelashes and caught sight of the outline of her shadowed features. You could see her purse her lips, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”

“Forgive me for thinking so, your highness!” You snickered, “the princess shall not step foot outside of her chambers, lest a scrape shall mar her flawless skin!”

She smirked before placing a delicate finger underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. You could feel your face grow hot as she removed her shawl. Ivory white eyes stared back at you smugly, sending a shock through your body. You weren’t sure if the jolt you felt was from her beauty or from the fact that she wasn’t lying.

“Would you like to try again, my knight?” She cooed to you, her other hand coming down to rest on your cheek. You stood up and gaped at her, “oh fuck, you’re actually the princess.”

A part of you wanted to dislike her for her title and for the royal blood that coursed through her veins. That blood tainted her, filling every nook and cranny with vile corruption. “All governments are bad,” Technoblade had taught you early on in your life, “they should, under no circumstances, be trusted.”

Though her parent Eret had been a fair king, always attending to the needs of their people, you were anticipating their corruption. If your memory serves you right, they were the one that betrayed the revolutionaries during the L’manberg Revolution simply because of their thirst for power. If they were a power hungry traitor before, who’s to say that they won’t be blinded by it again?

Every fiber in your body screamed at you to sink your sword through her abdomen to put her down, just like the bloodthirsty hounds that hailed long before her. You could just end her right now, make it quick and just leave her body here. It’d be easy and it would bring chaos to the SMP Kingdom, causing mass paranoia and tearing it apart from within. It’d be delicious, something that would give you a high you’d ride for years. You wanted to paint the grass with her blood, but something deep within you protested.

Filthy blood nourished her body, but that didn’t take away from her sheer and complete beauty or the way she covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her laugh. That did not take away from how she had cupped your cheek moments before, your skin still tingled where her hand was. That didn’t suppress the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach when she stepped into the moonlight.

She put her hand out and smiled, “won’t you accompany me to my castle, my faithful warrior?” You merely put on a cold, uncaring facade and side stepped her.

“...You got yourself here, yes? You can find your way back.”

“Well you see,” she moved to rub the back of her neck and awkwardly chuckled, “I was hoping you know the way back?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped your mouth, something about her made her irresistible. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you just ran blindly into a forest?”

“Hey, you would too if you were being chased by zombies!”

“Excuse me, who was the one that just slaughtered said zombies in under a minute?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

“I don’t have a sword like you do,” she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at you.

“Even then, I doubt you know how to use one. Here,” you unsheathed the large sword and held it out to her, “I bet you can’t even hold it up.”

“Can too!” She protested before snatching the sword out of your hands. She grunted slightly at the heavy weight, almost dropping it, but she quickly steadied it. Looking up at you with a smug, slightly reddened face, she shook slightly. “See? It’s not that hard.”

You quirked an eyebrow beneath your mask, “oh really?”

“Y-yep,” was all she managed to choke out before she stepped back and dropped the tip. It swung down and buried itself inside the dirt below, scouring the earth as it made contact.

Smirking at her, you took it back with ease, putting it back into its sheath slung around your back. You once again stepped around her and started walking in the other direction.

“Where are you going?!”

“To the castle, you said you wanted me to take you home.”

She rushed to your side and grabbed your arm with both of her hands. They snaked around your bicep and tangled themselves in your cape. You could feel yourself soar at the contact; you had to fight against every instinct to hook your arm with hers. You ripped yourself out of her embrace and put some distance between the both of you.

She crossed her arms and hugged herself, shivering slightly, “how are you not cold?!”

“It’s barely cold out here,” you mentally scolded yourself for being a hypocrite, “you’ll be fine.”

She said nothing and continued to walk. As you got further and further into the forest, she merely started shivering more. You could hear her teeth chattering loudly and could see goosebumps decorating the skin on her bare arms. Sighing, you unhooked your cape and slung it over her shoulders.

She squeaked in surprise at the feeling before realizing that you gave her your cape. She grabbed the edges and pulled it closer to her before snuggling deeper into the cloth; you could feel your heart explode at the small sigh that she let out and the content hum that left her mouth. Just as she looked up at you, you made quick work of looking away. The ground was very fascinating at the moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured. You just curtly nodded, avoiding looking at her.

The walk to the castle was short, luckily she hadn’t run far from her home. Just as the castle walls were in your sights, she tried holding your arm again. Once again, you stepped away from her.

“C’mon,” she chuckled, “I don’t bite.”

“Well I do. You really need to learn not to trust a stranger, princess.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers. We know each other’s names, do we not? And besides, I bet you’re just a massive teddy bear.”

“I don’t know what your teddy bears looked like as a kid, but they certainly weren’t me. If I wanted to, I could take your hand clean off with a single twist and pull,” you growled out. She was silent once more as she led you towards a specific part of the castle.

“...Why are you so defensive? At least treat me like you did before we knew each other!” She unhooked the cape and shoved it towards you. You gladly took it and put it back on. To your sheer embarrassment, you felt joy as you caught a whiff of books and expensive perfume. It smelled like her.

“...I could’ve just left you back there if I wanted to, consider this a favor. Respect is earned, not given. Even to royalty.”

You turned to leave, you cape swishing behind you as you turned. Before you could walk off, a hand on your arm stopped you. “Wait. Even if you’re a massive jerk,” she sighed out, “I still have to thank you. So, thank you for saving my life; I’m indebted to you, my douchey knight.”

She leant up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her lips on your cheek. You froze and watched as she turned on her heel. She walked towards the entrance with several glances back at you, some of them being smug and others being questioning. It was like you were entranced underneath the veil of a spell, unable to move until she disappeared from sight.

The walk home was quiet with no mobs sneaking up on you. The entire time, the memory of her kissing your cheek replayed endlessly in your head. Though the very thing you disliked more than anything was embodied in her, you couldn’t help but fall for the natural charm she had. You were probably just tired, it was getting late into the night after all.

As you walked through the door, you could see Technoblade impatiently waiting for you on the couch. He had a book open in his hand and his half-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his snout.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I just ran into more mobs than I anticipated.”

Technoblade said nothing as his eyes flickered over your body, looking for even the smallest of scrapes. When he didn’t find anything, he nodded to himself and stood up. Tiredly, he walked over to you and ruffled your hair before trudging to his room.

“Are you sure the only thing you ran into was mobs?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just a lot of zombies.”

He rolled his eyes and gave you a knowing smile before walking over to you. He swiped his thumb across your cheek and showed it to you. It was stained with a light pink color. “In all of the centuries I spent living in this world, not once have I seen a zombie wearing pink lipstick or,” he took your cape in his hand and sniffed it slightly, “cherry scented perfume.”

Your face exploded in heat as you made hasty work of scrubbing your cheek making the older man laugh quietly at you, “all you’re doing is smudging it all over your face. Some warm water and soap will get it off fast… Now, wanna tell me who gave you that?”

You stared at his smug expression and quickly came to the realization that he wouldn’t let this go unless you told him. Or, at least until you told him what happened.

You sighed and started to remove your armor, placing it on the armor stand situated between Philza’s and Technoblade’s armor. You had insisted that the armor stands were in this specific order, it just made sense with the height differences between the members of the household. Since you were between Philza’s and Technoblade’s height at 6’4 (and still growing), it made sense with the order of the armor in terms of size.

You made your way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, Philza following suit. He gave you a reassuring smile, “whenever you’re ready.”

So you told him everything that had happened that day. Needless to say, Philza was happy for you, asking you questions about the interaction.

“It sounds like she’s perfect for you, kiddo.”

“That’s the thing, Uncle Phil. She isn’t,” you ran a hand down your face and leaned back onto the back of the couch, your head resting on the top of the cushion. You heard Philza shift slightly before he grabbed your hand.

“Now,” he asked gently, “what makes you think that?”

“She’s King Eret’s daughter. Helen Dahlia Eret,” you sardonically chuckled, “I really thought she was just joking when she said ‘princess’.” Every part of you wished that that was a joke. That she would laugh and tell you that it was part of the game she was playing. But no, she just had to be royalty.

“Eret’s better than most, they are a good king,” he reminded you.

“Still, there’s royal blood in her. She’s actively a part of a government… I wanted to kill her on the spot; hell everything in my body was screaming at me to slaughter her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Sometimes, someone is more than the blood inside of them; maybe she isn’t as bad as you think she is. Someone could be born into a family of saints and still destroy everything they touch. On the other hand, someone could be born surrounded by the lowest of humanity and grow up to become the best person you’ll ever meet. You have to understand that blood isn’t everything to a person’s character.”

You didn’t say anything, contemplating what he said. She didn’t seem like someone to rule with an iron fist, and neither did her parent. Tubbo was the first person to come to mind. He was raised by a malicious, tyrannical idiot, a man that had valued absolute power and booze over anything else. Your uncle turned out to be the most caring person you’ve ever met, always making sure that those around him are in a good mood even if he himself wasn’t.

However, it’s best to be cautious of somebody. Your mind flashed back to Wilbur and Dream, the two men rotting away in Pandora’s Vault together until either their time alive is up or time itself expires. They were charismatic and kind on the outside, but on the inside, they are two of the most heinous men you’ve ever met.

It seemed like your mind was running in circles, bouncing between both conclusions like it was being slammed between two surfaces.

“...Do you think you’ll see her again?” Philza asked you, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles and squeezing it comfortingly when you didn’t respond immediately.

You sighed, standing up and walking out of the room, “if the odds are in our favor, we won’t see each other any time soon.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

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Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #destiny written in begonias #female reader #x reader #wlw reader #tw: swearing #tw: violence

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mcheang · 3 years

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Exclusive

Edna Mode was a renowned designer, famed for her harsh but accurate critiques, her fierce and practical lines, and of course, being the designer of the majority of superheroes.

And now she was hosting a fashionista gala, inviting those worthy of a Mode gala. As for those asking for an invite, Edna just asks who they are and calls security.

Lila, as the self-proclaimed BFF of Ladybug, and Gabriel’s muse, had already boasted of receiving the glamorous invitation. It didn’t just come in an envelope, it came out of the sky in a rosewood chest, accompanied by a bottle of wine and canapés. (Or so she says. Adrien and Marinette rolled their eyes. Chloé wasn’t paying attention)

Alya: Girl, I’m so jealous. But hey, maybe this will be a good thing. After all, Adrien is going with Kagami. Chloe will just stick with her mom. That means it’s a chance for you and Marinette to know each other better.

Oh yeah, did I mention that everyone knows Marinette is MDC?

Lila forced a grin but didn’t want to make any promises.

Imagine Lila’s rage to know she wasn’t given an invite because she was just a model. Adrien was the heir to a fashion company. She was not.

With all the bragging Lila did, she can’t back out or Chloe and Marinette will call out her absence. (Chloé learned about Lila being a guest from Sabrina later from gossiping)

So, she stole Marinette’s invitation. She did some editing and made her own customised invite, brandishing it for her class to see.

Marinette saw her invitation missing, rolled her eyes and reported the theft to Edna. Plz, everyone knows Edna invited her. She didn’t really need a piece of expensive paper.

The day of the gala arrived, and Lila brought out her invite.

The guard looked at his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”

Lila: No, but I do have an invite. Obviously someone must have made a mistake with your list.

The guard snorted. “If that’s the case, then your fingerprints and eye scans should have already been registered. That’s what opens the doors.“

Lila gulped and thought about sneaking in with the next guest. But no such luck. Security made sure one person entered at a time.

As the security guard moved to push Lila back into the crowd of fans, Lila cried out that she knows Ladybug and Gabriel.

Guard: what’s your point?

Lila: You’ll be fired for this!

Guard: Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this all before.

Another guard just scoffed. “You’re only a model. One of many in the industry. Miss Mode doesn’t care for models.”

Lila: what are models if not the face of fashion?

“Spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only of themselves” Edna herself was at the entrance, wondering what was causing the disruption in her guest entrance flow.

Lila: How can you say that? Then why would Ladybug be my Best Friend?

Edna: the day Ladybug says she is your Best Friend is the day I wear crocs. And I don’t mean crocodile leather.

Edna points at a random guard. “You, get this so-called model out of the way. She is blocking the queue.

Oh by the way, Edna calling out Lila was caught on camera by the reporters.

One of them questioned why she was kicking out Gabriel’s muse when his son, a supermodel himself, was invited.

Edna: I did not invite the boy because of his face. I invited him because I saw potential (basically she realized he was Chat Noir. She would never invite Adrien otherwise. As seen from her quote, she doesn’t have a high opinion of models) That is, if he ever gets out of his father’s shadow. Because, let’s face it darling, what can Adrien do besides look pretty and play with swords and piano? You would think the boy would be in part of business meetings, but no. At this rate, Gabriel needs this gala to get out of that stuffy house. Realize that maybe his parenting methods are flawed compared to some other talented figures here. Look at Miss Kagami, focused on upholding her family legacy of fencing. MDC already knows how to run her own business after learning a bit from her parents. Even Audrey’s daughter has been joining in on becoming a fashion critic and throwing parties for political parties. But I must go, my guests await.

Back inside the party, guests were avoiding a seething Gabriel’s eyes. He had come to scout out the superhero guests, only to be called out by Edna on live tv.

Marinette went up to Edna and asked one of her fashion idols why she burned the Agrestes in public.

Edna: do you think Gabriel would change his parenting ways if we did not expose them to the influential figures of this industry, as well as the public eye? I guarantee you Adrien will be allowed more freedom of choice, lest Gabriel wants his son to be known as a coddled boy who can’t even make his own decisions.

Edna didn’t bother softening her sharp voice as she says these words.

Adrien flushed.

Quickly changing the subject, Marinette asked why Edna hated models.

Edna: it’s not that I hate them personally. I just hate their jobs and what they represent. Models nowadays are beautiful only according to the world standards. People who see them want to be like them, never mind that the models they see on the screen are airbrushed to unrealistic and impossible perfection. Now models focus only on their own appearance, trying to maintain their beauty as time ages them. They go on diets and become superficial. Whereas outside the modelling industry or such like, you don’t need to be stereotypically beautiful to be worthy. Where your worth is measured in kindness and bravery and talent and intelligence and anything beyond superficiality.

Adrien overheard and he frowned, not liking the idea where his appearance on ads is not exactly right. He only joined the company to make his father happy. But maybe it’s time he stepped into the business side of things and exit the modelling world. Bonus: no more Lila!

Edna snorted, “Though I must admit Gabriel surprised me with his newest model. Her attitude is lousy but she doesn’t strike me as a model. She just doesn’t have that model walk. But enough about the old man, my dear MDC, let’s talk about you. I love your gender-neutral line. And was wondering if you would like to join me in creating my next line of clothes for the Incredibles. A rare opportunity but I like style. Now take this offer before I change my mind.”

Marinette: wait, do I have to fly over or-

Edna: you are too excited, darling, but don’t worry, my assistants will send you the details.

Why are the Incredibles getting a new look? The kids are growing up and Edna wanted to move on to new styles.

As Marinette was flabbergasted, Audrey congratulated her for landing the job. Kagami and Adrien also beamed at her good fortune.

Even the Incredibles admitted they looked forward to working with her. Violet was a big fan.

Gabriel was seething and thought about akumatizing himself but come on, one villain against a room of superheroes? No thanks.

Drinking a glass of wine, he eventually admits that Edna had a point, however loudly and rudely it had been announced.

He would not be around forever and he wanted to leave the company in Adrien’s hands. In order for that to happen, his son needs to know business (if he can’t design, he can hire designers)

And yes, Lila was a lousy model. She survived by shooting with professional models who managed to overpower her mediocre work. But a deal was a deal. Besides, her contract was only for a year.

After the gala, Adrien happily quit modelling (aka Lila) to spend more time with his father, learning about how to run a company.

Marinette and Edna proudly claimed credit for the fashionable Incredibles.

Violet also became the talk of the school for her MDC exclusives.

Lila had been humiliated on air. Alya hesitated but finally did her research. At the end, she collapsed over the ruined credibility of her blog. But she can still get revenge by informing the principal, Ms Bustier and Mrs Rossi what Lila lied about. The perks of being a class vice president for a busy class president is that she also has the contacts list for emergencies.

Considering how Lila framed Marinette, there would be no suspension or detention. Only expulsion. Good luck finding a new school when Edna’s gala was a global topic.

When Lila returned to school for her last week (it takes time to gather evidence and get the attention of busy adults), nobody wanted to talk to her or even exchange glances. She quietly kept to herself, hoping for this to blow over soon. She was still a model working for Gabriel. She could befriend other supermodels (as if. Like they would want to befriend her after Edna called her out)

Hell, even her jobs were down. Gabriel just told her to take test shoots to fill up her portfolio until the hype died down (aka her contract expired)

When Lila was expelled, she was ready to be akumatized into Chameleon again. Except one problem. Everyone avoided her like hell so how could she kiss her target. Even Adrien was told to stay away lest his reputation be tarnished.

Ok, I admit it. I was hit by “I’m no Angel” quotes as I wrote this. But seriously, does anyone feel weird at the idea of trying to become thinner when your weight is just right, all the while you know there are people out there even thinner than you are and are starving, not because they want to be stereotypically thin, but because they cannot afford food?

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila is exposed #Lila gets exposed #everyone knows Marinette is MDC #post ladybug episode #post episode ladybug #Gabriel salt #ml salt fic

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

thunder - ksj | m

your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. do you know you're unlike any other? you'll always be my thunder. - thunder, boys like girls

↳ summary- you allow your best friend Jin to take you backpacking once per year. apparently, this year’s outing would be the wettest yet.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

↳ word count- 6k

↳ genre- fluff, tiny angst, smut, comedy

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, light dom!jin, light sub!reader, fucking in tents haha ha ha ha, cum play, cum eating, possessive dirty talk

↳ a/n- wow hello! its been so long since i uploaded a fic i almost forgot how to do it! i would like to give you a fic that i’ve had in my storage since march, and one i’m excited to finally finish. i’d be nowhere without @taetaewonderland @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia for hyping me up to post it in the first place. thank u to @shadowsremedy for being my fav beta ily ily ily. enjoy my babes! pls feel free to message me!

“Kim Seokjin, if you got us lost, I’m going to murder you,” you seethed as your pulled your booted foot out of a slick puddle of mud.

“I didn’t get us lost, dear. The map is wrong,” he replied coolly as he twisted the crumpled map from portrait to landscape, and back again. “I’m an excellent navigator, but when the tools I have are faulty…”.

You grumbled, stopping your walk to sit on a fallen log. You sighed audibly at your best friend, still maneuvering in the small clearing in the forest, trying to match the map to where you were. You chanced a look at the sky as you sought to catch your breath and sate your anger. Dark, heavy clouds were forming, the kind that didn’t just indicate a sprinkle but a torrential downpour.

“Shit, Jin. It’s going to storm soon,” you warned.

He stopped his map seeking and glanced at the sky, frown buried deep in his face.

Instantly, as if it never changed, he returned to his bright and cheery demeanor.

“Well! Looks like we should work faster to make it back to camp, huh?”

Seokjin would be excited for an unexpected kink in your plans. The boy was obsessed with “roughing it”. You agreed to one weekend with minimal hiking. Camping, in your opinion, was meant to be spent drunk around a fire eating s’mores and telling scary stories, not walking for miles through nothing but trees, mud, and probably bears.

Camping had never been your favorite hobby, and you allowed Seokjin to take you off trail backpacking once per year. The man looked forward to it, planned it several months in advance, and counted down the days until he stuffed you in his Jeep down a deserted forest highway to the campsite.

Only, Jin never took the “minimal hiking” thing too seriously.

“It’s an easy hike,” he had promised you that morning as you set up camp. “More of a stroll than anything.”

You kicked at the dirt beneath you now, upset you had listened to the dark-haired man’s empty promises.

“How about we just go back the way we came from?” You suggested as you stood up and brushed the dirt off your backside from the log.

“Nonsense,” he sniffed. “I’ve got it right here. We can take this trail,” he gestured at a clearing through the trees, “for about a mile, turn left at the open valley, and we’ll be back at camp two miles after that!” He proclaimed his findings as if it were so easy, so obvious.

“Great, three miles of hiking. After we’ve already done four, at least.”

“Yes, my ever-positive sunshine, you should be happy I found us a shortcut.” He patted your head and smiled at you as he adjusted your backpack strap that was sliding off your shoulders. He lingered, eyes on you and your lips for just a fraction too long, before he turned and began leading you through the forest.

Your heart was racing, unrelated to the elevation or the hike.

You gave in so easily to Jin not because he was your best friend since childhood, but also because he was the man you were hopelessly in love with.

You’d been smitten with the older boy since your senior year of high school, when he jokingly asked you to prom and you realized you wanted Seokjin courting you to be a regular occurrence.

You stayed by his side through it all, all girlfriends and breakups. It hurt to watch him with another, but maintaining his friendship was more important than anything else and you weren’t about to lose him to a crush that you could easily just avoid.

Seokjin was attached to your hip, a fact your friends never let you live down. They were relentless in encouraging you two to be alone, and for you to admit your feelings to him. They told you they were sure he would reciprocate it.

Unbeknownst to them, you had admitted it.

You and Jin once got messy drunk on the floor of your apartment, where you slithered up into his lap and whispered your secret devotion to your best friend. Seokjin merely laughed and kissed your nose. You were so embarrassed and rejected you never brought it up again. Best to leave it be, rather than bring a 15 year friendship to a screeching halt.

So—you valiantly stood by him as his best friend and confidante. You were there when he excitedly told you about his new girlfriend, or when he called you crying over their breakup. Your heart twinged at both; you wanted to be the reason for his excitement and the balm to his wounded heart.

You allowed Seokjin to take you on all his wild adventures. Like now—traipsing through the forest with no direction in sight, because you would have done nearly anything for the boy.

A crack of thunder shook you from your thoughts and you jumped at the sudden sound.

“Ah, so cute,” he smiled at you, “still afraid of thunder?”

You blushed and pouted. “It just surprised me, is all.”

He smirked as if to say he didn’t believe you and nodded. “We should get a move on, don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

You shivered at the thought. It was already cool in the forest; the trees providing enough coverage it locked out any sun, if there had been any. You quickly moved in step behind your best friend. It only took a few minutes of silence before the telltale pitter patter of droplets on leaves began. A fat raindrop landed on your forehead.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “It’s starting.”

“I know,” Jin suddenly looked worried, his confident demeanor cracking. He looked back at you and tightened the straps on his backpack.

“Let’s run?”

You were powerless to deny any request from him. Plus, you didn’t really feel like getting drenched.

You adjusted your own backpack and took off, running through the quickly dampening forest beside Seokjin.

The rain came in a downpour. It hit you hard, blurring your vision. Seokjin slipped his hand into yours, not wanting to lose you in the storm. You pushed your legs in time with his, jumping around fell logs and rocks and skipping large puddles.

You were drenched as Seokjin pulled you into a makeshift canopy of rocks, a momentary pause from the storm to catch your breath. Your hair was soaking wet, as if freshly showered. Seokjin’s hair stuck to his face, and you smiled as he looked at you with concern. It only took a moment until you were both bursting with laughter, finding humor at the moment.

It was something you loved about Seokjin. He always knew how to make you laugh in times it seemed impossible.

“This sucks,” you spoke through your joyful laughter. He nodded in agreement.

“I think we’re almost back. We need to turn soon, and then we’ve got about two more miles. You ready?”

You agreed and pushed back the slick hair in your eyes, before doing the same for him. His eyes sparkled. You didn’t know what it meant.

In an instant, you were running again. The backpack bounced against your back and rain pounded your body. The things you did for Kim Seokjin. You were whipped, and you knew it.

The trail seemed like it went on forever. You both became so tired of running that you slowed and trudged slowly through mud as rain pelted you, accepting your fate of soaking to the bone. You were sure you had never been this drenched in your life. Your clothes were stuck to your body and dripping down into your shoes and socks. Your teeth chattered in the breeze—it felt as if the wind whipped right through you. The sky rumbled again, as if warning you to hurry lest it dump more rain on you.

Seokjin was always the caring companion. He rubbed your shoulders and arms to warm them up and promised a roaring fire. You hated how much it made your heart burst.

You were very much looking forward to your one-man tent, stocked with a sleeping bag and blankets. You could strip down and dry off and slip into the warmth of your own personal nest.

Seokjin waxed poetic about his own spacious tent—a lofty family sized one, and how he made sure he brought his sleeping bag along with 8 thick blankets, and how he couldn’t wait to snuggle down into his own. Seokjin was the picture of preparedness. He even kept a locking box full of snacks in his tent because the boy was a foodie and couldn’t survive without the treats. It came in handy.

“What would you do if we were stuck out here forever?” You posed to your best friend, curious about his response and desperate to pass the time as you hiked.

“Well,” he thought aloud. “I’d miss the guys. But I’d be happy to be stuck out here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed.

“You wouldn’t miss, ah—what’s her name? Miya?”

Seokjin shrugged. “She’s fun. She’s not you, though.”

You couldn’t help but grumble internally. She was good enough to date, and you weren’t. She was different in some respect.

“Are things not going well with her?” You asked, secretly hoping they weren’t.

“It’s fine. She’s nice and all,” he sighed. “Just, there’s no spark there, you know?”

You knew all too well. Any man you tried to date paled compared to your best friend, and the fireworks behind your every heartbeat when you were near him.

“What about you?” He was peering into your eyes and into what felt like your soul. “You and Jungkook sure seem cozy.” His tone sounded annoyed, sarcastic even.

You couldn’t help but bark a laugh.

“Oh god, no,” you shook your soggy head. “Not my type. We’re good friends and that’s it. Plus, I’m sure he’s into Jimin.”

Seokjin shrugged again. “You sit on his lap and cuddle up to him all the time…”

“Are you jealous?” You smirked, nudging the man. Please, god, please be jealous.

“N-No!” He was sharp. “I’m not.”

Ouch.

You remained silent, eyes downcast at your muddy boots as you walked alongside the man.

“Sorry,” he mumbled after a beat of silence.

“Don’t worry about it, Seokjin. I got it—loud and clear.”

Seokjin looked hurt, a wave of dissatisfaction crossing his features. He wanted to say something, mouth opening to continue his apology. You ignored it wholly. He knew your feelings. There was no way he couldn’t remember that night. You pushed ahead of the man, walking in front of him to avoid his pained gaze and likely hurried apology.

The light of day was leaving. Everything around you was steadily getting darker, and the rain showed no sign of giving up. You silently begged to be back to the safety of your camp soon, lest you become walking mountain lion bait.

“There’s camp!” Seokjin finally pointed and ran through the rain ahead of you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you sighed, feeling as if it lifted a weight from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to strip out of your soaking clothes and slither into your blankets.

“Oh shit,” Seokjin whispered, stopping where he stood. You followed his gaze, concerned about what stopped the boy so quickly.

Your tent was ripped open, the insides of it exposed to the wind and rain. Everything you owned was soaking wet. You had set it up in a clearing with not too many trees above it, and it appeared the lack of protection against the wind and rain tore the poor fabric to shreds.

A worn-out and distraught sob left your lips.

“No!”

You ran to the tent and nearly cried. Fortunately, beyond just being soaking wet and useless for the night, everything was intact. There was only no warmth to be had. No warm clothes to change into. Nothing.

“What the fuck am I going to do?!”

Seokjin placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You can share with me?” He sounded hopeful. “We can hang your clothes to dry and when the storm passes, we can build a fire and let your tent air out. But you should probably sleep in my tent tonight.”

You bit your lip. You had slept with Seokjin in more beds than you could count, always being forced to share a bed as the designated ‘best friends who don’t care’. And it was never easy for you. You always woke up with the delicious scent of his cologne and shampoo, and your body curled around his. His hardness would always be pressed up against you, and it took all you had not to wrap your mouth around it to wake him up.

“Yeah, thanks Seokjin,” you breathed. “I’m fucking freezing. And I’m tired. I just want to get some sleep.”

Seokjin slipped his backpack off and pulled yours off your frame. He hung them from a sturdy branch, protected by layers of trees overhead, to let them dry.

“I have some towels in my tent, go on in. You can get dry and hand me your wet clothes to hang. Then you can get in the blankets and I’ll make us something to eat.”

You blushed. Seokjin hadn’t seen you fully naked, ever; at least not since you were toddlers.

Slipping into his blankets while stark nude would be a dream. It was something you fantasized about more than you’d care to admit. But, in the current conditions, being naked and clammy in the blankets next to your best friend who didn’t return any feelings for you sounded more like an awkward moment waiting to happen.

If Seokjin noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He acted as if making you strip in his tent was a normal thing, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’ll wait out here,” he nodded dutifully.

You slipped out of your muddy boots and socks, and into his tent. It was nice and spacious, and the blankets looked incredibly enticing. It was kind of Seokjin to let you stay with him, even kinder that he would remain soaking wet to make you something to eat. Your body felt so worn out and drained, and you were sure he did too.

You peeled the wet clothing off of you, every bit, before sticking your head out the door and handing him the clothes.

“Don’t worry about food, okay? You should get dry too.”

He wrinkled his forehead.

“You sure?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’m sure. Plus, we have your snacks.”

“Ah, good thinking,” he shot his finger guns at you. “I’ll be there in a minute, then. Hand me a towel and I’ll get undressed out here.”

You shyly handed him a towel, now very aware that you and Seokjin would be in the same tent—naked. The thought thrilled you as much as it scared you.

It didn’t take long to burrow yourself into his freshly made bed roll, sliding into the neat layers. Seokjin was nearly military in his routine and order. Everything was always tucked, pressed, and laid down perfectly.

Your body wracked with shivers and chills—the blankets and sleeping bag were cold from the ambient air outside. You folded yourself together in a fetal position to maintain some warmth. It felt good to lie down on the soft bed mat, but the blankets were doing nothing to provide warmth.

The sound of the zipper opening the front door flap of the tent made you shake harder. You could feel the wind blow through the opening now. The sound of the storm was loud, and you were grateful for the heavy tarp covering Seokjin’s tent. It provided some respite from the wind and kept all water off the tent. At least Seokjin had been smart in his setup. You ignored the man’s suggestions to set up better, and you were fully regretting it now.

Seokjin had the towel wrapped around his waist and stepped about the tent easily. He dabbed at his upper body with a smaller towel from his suitcase and rubbed his hair dry. The normally perfectly coiffed head was now static-y and sticking up wildly. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t so cold.

Seokjin moved around you and slid into the blankets, leaving a large space between you, before he threw the towel around his waist onto the floor. He was naked now; you noted internally. You both were. A shiver ran down your spine, unrelated to the relentless chill.

It was silent. All you could hear was the beating of the rain on the tarp and your teeth chattering as you shivered.

Seokjin stole a look at you, finally, and noticed your position, holding yourself to build warmth.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m j-j-just col-l-ld,” you whispered. “And t-t-tired.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but you heard the scratching sound of a moving sleeping bag and rustling of blankets and suddenly felt a very warm, very naked body pressed against you. It was blissful, and you moaned out loud at the feel of him spooning you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You didn’t know what for, and couldn’t bring yourself to reply.

You burrowed yourself down into his warmth and felt his arms wrap around you, securing you against him. He radiated heat. He felt like heaven. Your eyes closed—he had you feeling like you had stepped into a delicious sauna.

Seokjin’s muscular arms hadn’t moved an inch since they wrapped around you, but now his hands slowly rubbed at your torso, warming you everywhere his hand dragged. It felt electrifying and your body relaxed easily under his delicate fingertips.

It started out innocent, rubbing along your stomach and side to warm you further. But his hand began straying north, reaching the crest of your breasts. Your breath hitched as he rubbed over the cold swells. Your nipples were hard from the chill and pebbled even further with the touch of his hands. It made a gasp stick in your throat.

His lips touched your neck, lightly. They were warm too. It seemed his entire body was twenty degrees warmer than your own, and every touch felt like a raging flame. His hands continued rubbing along your breasts as he laved and sucked.

at the column of your throat.

As instantly as it began, Seokjin stopped. His hands hovered above your breasts.

He pressed kisses to your neck and face. “We should sleep, babe,” he sighed.

You wanted to protest, to push him further, to take care of what he started, but you couldn’t find the energy. Seokjin’s warmth matched with the comfort of his bedroll, and the soothing rise and fall of his breath was lulling you into sleep. Even though it was still early evening, the hike and the run back to safety took it all out of you.

Seokjin’s arms felt like safety. He secured them around you, slipping just underneath your breasts where his thumb could trace alongside the bottom as you easily succumbed to sleep.

It was still dark when you woke.

The rain was still coming down, light this time. It sounded relaxing, soothing. Seokjin was still spooning you, sleeping soundly behind you. You twisted in his grasp to gaze at him.

His hair was dry now, sticking out randomly about his pillow. You were sure if he saw it he’d panic, normally so precise with his looks. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, none of his chaotic energy and dramatic charisma.

You loved every facet of Seokjin. You loved the flamboyance, the sensitivity, the deep compassion for his friends.

You turned around, as gently and quietly as you could, and pressed a hand to his cheek—rubbing at the warm and soft flesh. He sighed softly in his sleep, moving against his pillow. An eye cracked open, and he stared at you.

“Why are you awake?” He whispered, his voice gentle. “It’s still dark.”

He was confused, and the look that graced his features was adorable. You wanted to photograph it and frame it, make it the lock screen of your phone.

You shook your head.

“Don’t know.”

Seokjin’s hand rubbed at your shoulder, then up to your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled at you.

“You look so cute in the moonlight.”

You closed your eyes, letting his compliment wash over you. You couldn’t find the words to reply. You let him continue caressing your cheek, feeling as if you were living a fantasy where Seokjin touched you like a lover.

You were so close to him, chest pressing against his own. Something about the quiet storm, the dark tent, had you disregarding any embarrassment you should have felt pressing your naked tits to the man's chest, but the spell of the forest had you pressing closer. Your lips were inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your lips.

The feel of Seokjin’s lips pressing against yours was light, but felt as if all the fireworks in the world exploded behind your eyes and within your belly. It started sweet, gentle. You kissed him like you always wanted to, full of unrequited love and unwavering desire. Your arms slithered around his neck, pulling him even closer against you.

The kiss turned deeper, mouths opening to allow the passage of tongues. He sought into your mouth, caressing yours with his own, pouring what felt like his very spirit into you. His hand left your back and slid up your sides to press against your breast.

“Seokjin,” you murmured, feeling your brain swirl headily. “Feels good.”

He didn’t reply, only kept kissing at your neck and pinching gently at your hardened nipples. It made you cry out, gaping at the slight pain.

“If you want me to stop, tell me.”

His words were gentle. His hands stilled, stopping all ministrations against you.

Your breath was hard and shaky, matching the erratic beat of your heart in your ribcage. Your unrequited crush of years was now roaming your body, touching you as a lover rather than a friend.

“Please, don’t stop.”

He was on you again, now bloodthirsty for any part of your skin to touch. He tugged at your nipples, suckled up your neck to kiss and lick at the shell of your ears. You pressed against him, gasping at the feel of his now stiff cock. He circled his hips, relishing in the feel of you against him. You wondered how he would feel inside you. He was thick and long—it would be a stretch, and a most delicious and welcome one.

He pressed you back against the pillow, hovering over your body as he kissed down your neck and sucked at the pressure points there. A pleasured sigh passed through your open lips, reveling in the feel of him on your skin. It was something you dreamed about often. It felt unreal to finally have it.

You were on display for him, and his eyes raked over you as if you were a Dalí in the Louvre. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, and you tilted your head back to moan. You didn’t care at all about how you looked, how this might be awkward in the next few hours. You cared only about feeling Seokjin within you, getting him off, succumbing to your own pleasure wrought by his hands and his cock.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighed. “Wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you gasped as he slid a finger down to your core, circling faintly over your slick folds.

“Have you?”

“Seokjin, I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

Seokjin closed his eyes and smiled, breathing through his nose in contentment.

“You weren’t just saying that when you were drunk then.”

You shook your head, and Seokjin opened his eyes to peer at you.

“No, Seokjin,” you whispered needily, his finger still so torturously close to your clit. “I meant it.”

He leaned down with a smile and planted gentle kisses on your cheeks, adoring and gentle.

“I’ve been in love with you too. I thought you were just drunk. I never acted on it because I didn’t want to get my heart broken.”

He pulled up and allowed his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He asked. “Like, really fucking hard. You good with that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. A deep, hearty chuckle passed between both of you, enamored with each other and the situation of being naked and intertwined together, the warmth of your matched confessions surrounding you.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged.

And Seokjin would be loath to deny you.

His teasing finger finally slid into your core, fucking into you with ease from your slick walls. You gasped at the welcome intrusion, eyes fluttering closed as he began a slight pace and watched the way you fell apart.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “So fucking pretty.”

He slipped another finger in, scissoring them open as he worked at you. Your legs trembled, and it made the older man smirk.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So easily turned into a *gushing* puddle for me.”

You nodded pathetically, back arching as he added yet another finger and pressed at the spot inside you that had your mind spinning and thoughts erasing.

“Oh—God, Jin!”

As much as Jin wanted to see you get off around his fingers, he was desperate for more. You were finally all his—something he’s wanted since he could remember. All he’s wanted was for you to be his.

He pulled his fingers from inside you and smiled as they came out slicked up with your own essence. He ensured you made eye contact with him, then popped them into his mouth one-by-one, to suck them clean.

It made your mouth nearly fall to the floor as you watched him suck his fingers clean of you. Your body trembled with a need you hadn’t felt before. It was stronger than anything you’d felt before. It was unadulterated desire for Seokjin.

“Mm,” he sighed happily as he pulled the final digit from his mouth. “Delicious, as I thought.”

“Oh, my god,” you gaped. “Jin…,”

The man merely shook his head and smiled, crowding you down and hovering over your lips.

“You’re mine now, you got that?”

His eyes tracked yours, watching your every movement. It took you a moment to swallow your nerves, to regain any ounce of confidence.

“I’ve always been yours, Seokjin.”

He held you down, watching you with a gleam of wonder in his eye, before surging forward and planting his lips onto yours. His tongue dove in instantly, seeking solace in the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him passage was easy, almost natural. Jin’s tongue swirled around your own as your arms slithered around his neck to bring him closer. Kissing Jin felt like everything you’d imagine it would be, and yet like nothing you could have even dreamed.

Jin didn’t just kiss you—he consumed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth like he couldn’t get close enough to you. His chest pressed against your body and he groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your perky breasts pushing into his own broad chest.

“Baby,” he whispered as he pulled away.

It sounded like a dream—the pet name fell from Jin’s lips so easily, as if it were always meant to be spoken to you.

“You’ve always been the one I wanted,” he breathed as he pressed his lips down your neck. “Always the girl I wanted and could never have.”

“Jin,” you gasped as your fingers carded through his hair. “Jin, you’ve always had me.”

He lifted his head and peered deep into your eyes again, so deep it felt like he was glimpsing into your soul.

“I only want you. No one else.”

It knocked you breathless, and it took a moment for you to refill your lungs before nodding.

“I’m all yours.”

There was acknowledgement in both your admissions. An understanding that there was no more separation of you, and of Jin. That after tonight, it would be a partnership, and the beginnings of something more, something you’ve only dreamt of with the older man.

“Mine,” he whispered, before pressing his lips back to yours.

The kiss was sweet, nearly cloyingly sweet, as his hands cupped your face. He kissed you with every intention, every desperate plea he’s held in his heart for you.

Jin’s length pressed against you—his hips rutting minutely as he kissed you.

“Jin,” you gasped as you pulled away from his lip locked embrace. “Please, I need you.”

Jin’s charming smile spread across his lips, blooming your heart along with it.

“As you wish,” he whispered as he pressed in for another soft kiss..

Instantly, Jin flipped around and switched positions, guiding you to sit atop his hips while he settled down into the mess of blankets and pillows.

“What?” He asked as he noticed your confusion at the sudden mood change, a smirk rising on his puffy lips. “You think I’m gonna let you lay back and make me do all the work?”

There he was, your Seokjin. Never able to keep a comment to himself, regardless of the situation—always working to make you laugh. It made your heart sing.

His hands slid to grip at your hips while you lifted yourself up to hover over his hardened length, lining up the tip to just graze the wetness there.

“You see what you do to me?” You asked with a coy smile. “You see how badly I want you?”

Jin bit his lip, mesmerized by the way your cunt slicked up the head of his cock, desperate to spear into you but holding back.

“Fuck—,” he breathed. “P-Prove it.”

A smirk crossed your features before you took the plunge and allowed his length to slip inside you as you sank to his hips. The intrusion was welcome, and you gaped at the sensation of him plunging deep.

“Oh, my God!” Jin gasped as you had taken him to the hilt. His eyes bulged for a moment before they closed in bliss. “You feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t need to speak. The feeling of Jin’s thick length inside of you was more than enough agreement. He felt so thick, so long, prodding at the spot inside you that had you weak and stretching you wide to make you gasp at the sizzle of pain. After a moment of adjusting to his size, you let your hands fall to his chest as you began to slowly rise and fall and set a pace on his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he whined—eyes wide open and watching you bounce on him. “Shit, this is where you belong.”

You eagerly pinched at your nipples as your pace quickened, nodding at Jin’s encouraging words. Your mouth felt dry, and you felt unable to even vocalize your pleasure beyond your loud sighs and moans.

“Jin,” you breathed.

He nodded, assisting your pace by gripping your hips. He tugged you down, face to face, to rest on his chest while your hips kept their quick speed of enveloping his cock in your tight heat. He let a hand cup the side of your face, the other moving to grip your ass.

“You’re all fucking mine,” he grunted as he thrusted his cock up into you, matching the rhythm of your rise and fall. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good every day, baby.”

You nodded quickly, heartbeat rising as you quickened each pound. Jin’s lips pressed to yours again, this time messier, hotter. He licked into your mouth, desperate for any more of you he could consume.

“Fuck, you drive me fucking crazy,” he said, cock still thrusting deep inside you. “Let me fuck you from behind?”

You didn’t bother replying, simply removing yourself from his body and assuming the position on your hands and knees. Jin scrambled to line up behind you, hand pumping his slick cock as he marveled at the sight of you presented for him.

“Take me, please,” you whispered, turning your head to peer at him with a desperate smile. “Fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

Jin hissed an expletive, before lining himself up in your sodden folds and plunging in without a second thought. Your eyes widened at the new angle, gasping as you felt it hit different areas inside of you that had you squeaking with each hard thrust of his cock.

Jin’s hands gripped your ass, your hips, anywhere he could leave his brutal fingerprints.

“God, you take my cock like a fucking queen,” he gasped as the sound of skin slapping echoed around the tent. “Look at your pussy, so fucking wet for me.”

He marveled at the way his cock plunged deep inside you, then came out covered in your creamy slick.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let me claim this pussy with my cum?”

The pleasure was overwhelming—it felt like every nerve ending was lit on fire, and you were a burning fuse about to detonate into a thousand brilliant explosions. Each thrust of Jin’s thickness had you crying for more, moans echoing off the trees outside. You were suddenly thankful you were in the middle of nowhere, allowing you to be loud and needy.

Jin reveled in your desperate sighs and the way your body pushed back against his to match his pace. He knew his end was coming, knew it was going to be short-lived from the start. He’s wanted your body for as long as he could remember, and wanted you in his life as his lover, his girlfriend, more than just what he had been relegated to for so long.

“Mm, baby, you look so good on your knees for me, fuck,” he gasped as his speed increased. “I can’t wait to make you cum on my cock every fucking day, love. This is my pussy now.”

Jin’s possession of your body made you see stars, vision blurring as your cunt tightened its grip around his cock. Jin gasped at the grip and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned. “I feel you, baby, fuck. Cum for me, angel. Let me feel this tiny little cunt milk me.”

The coil inside you was tightening, pulling tight and making you gasp and scream at the oncoming rush. Jin’s pounding was relentless, making your entire body shake with the anticipation.

Your hand dipped to circle at your clit, the ultimate piece to your end.

The coil snapped, and your cunt pulsated wildly around his cock, vice-grip tight. It felt as if you had been catapulted off into space, vision blurring and all sound indiscernible from the blood rushing in your ears.

Jin’s climax quickly overtook him at the feeling of your delicious heat gripping at his cock. With just a few strokes inside you, his cock pulsed hot stripes of cum within you and painted your channel. Something primal in Seokjin loved that he was within you now, a piece of him deposited inside.

He allowed a few moments to pass to catch his breath, before slowly easing his spent cock from your dripping walls. He groaned as he watched a bit of his seed drip out, and he was careful to collect it on his fingers.

“Come here,” he whispered as he pressed his chest to your back and lifted you upright, sitting on your knees. He presented his fingers to your lips, dripping with your combined slick, and wrapped his free arm around your stomach.

Obediently, you opened your mouth and allowed the man to swirl his cum-coated digits in your mouth. It made your stomach erupt in butterflies, the taste of you and the man you’ve only dreamt about for years now on your tongue.

A crack of thunder shook you from your silent reverie, and Jin removed his fingers from his mouth before wrapping both arms around you and tugging you down to lie face to face on the mused sleeping bags.

“Now, aren’t you glad we did this?” He asked with a chuckle and a kiss to your nose.

You wrinkled your brow and smiled coyly.

“I would have enjoyed it more if you hadn’t gotten us lost.”

Jin pouted and huffed.

“I didn’t get us lost,” he sniffed with indignation. “The map was wrong.”

#bts smut #kim seokjin #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #ficswithluv #kim seokjin smut #jin smut #bts fan fic #bts imagines #bts fic #bangtanarmynet

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Note

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. “Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi #sesskag fanfiction #enemies to lovers vibes

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