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bakuvantea · 3 years

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HEY BESTIE I HOPE YOUR HAVING AN AMAZING DAY

CAN I GET SOME GENERAL HEADCANONS WITH SUNG JIN-WOO WITH A FEMALE S/O

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE BUT REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

>:)

general relationship headcanons of sung jin-woo with his beloved s/o

- warnings: none! just a tad bit of nsfw implications

- audience: I made this gender neutral, i do hope that’s okay!!

- a/n: hello >:) anonnn (may i call u that? lmao-) here’s your request love!! thank you for your kind words <33 stay heathy, stay hydrated, and always rest up okay? hope you have an amazing day ahead too!!

also idk who jacob is-

-•-

: pre-awakened jin-woo (before entering the carthenon temple)

> he was always cautious, he didn't want [you] to hear the whispers going around about how you could've chosen someone better, about how you could've loved someone that was not him. thus, he was very shy and timid, always on edge when he feels the piercing stares from his batchmates -most especially when you try to initiate physical contact with him in your school or in public, you'd see him uncomfortable and so you'd immediately stop (because you respect him, ily). behind closed doors though he would always go above and beyond in pleasing you and making you feel loved, although he always doubts himself so you always make sure to give him praises and assure him that he is the one you love (not that jerk jacob from the class next door).

> he always wears spare hair ties or hair pins around his wrists in case you forget or lose yours. in fact when its weekends -and when he's not out infiltrating dungeons and positively offering his life on a silver platter- he always tries to study new hairdos and hairstyles so he can have more variations and choices when he ties or pins your hair for you. he'd always kiss the top of your head after and you'd feel his smile as he nuzzles your hair, smelling your shampoo. since his hair is also long, you'd also return the favor and tie his hair for him. his favorite would have to be the classic apple look with a pointy lock of hair erect in the middle -he really looks like a shih tzu, adorable-

> he.blushes.so.easily !!! he is very weak to praises and your lil kisses that pepper his face. you can see him glow and you even see his smile evidently becoming wider despite him shying away from you, looking downwards to avoid your loving gaze.

> he may be sht but he is also very playful towards you, teasing you and throwing pillows at you when you’re in his room, what a baby.

> often during dates he'd always need to leave early because he really needs to earn money and g to the dungeons. although you try to offer him some of your savings or your help during the dungeon raids, he'd always reject your offer, thinking of how it may burden you or the dungeon raids may possibly hurt you. you don't listen to him though, you give some of your savings to his sister when you cross paths in your school, and you'd always register after him in raids or call up someone you know to have you join in.

"(name) why are you here?!"

"angel face, i can handle myself just fine. it's my choice to help you and whether you like it or not, i've also been called for this raid. come love, we're going in."

> you'd always take his blue hoodie and wear it. he gets so shy when you smell it.

he gets frantic when you take his hoodie and start sniffing it, exclaiming; "stop! i smell weird."

you raise an eyebrow at him, "woo, you smell fine. i like it."

he tries to stutter a remark but was silenced by your smile.

> you always try to visit his mother with him and his sister, jinah. you always talk to their mother out loud and you'd see jinah smile gently at you and jin-woo trying to stop sniffles from escaping his lips by biting them and covering his face with his hoodie.

jinah: u simp

jin-woo: shut it

> he loved cuddles! but he really likes kissing your cheeks. he loves how soft they are and he loves feeling your cheeks move when you smile or laugh at his cute antics.

> he loves you so so dear

: post-awakened jin-woo (after the events of the carthenon temple)

> oh, dear it's the monarch-

> you weren't with him when he raided the "d-rank" dungeon that then turned out to be,, well pretty much a bloodbath, so you were very worried when you heard word of the news. you and jinah basically ran to the hospital and when you caught sight of him you almost fell down from relief and pure shock in seeing the state he's in. well, not long after though suddenly he's all buff and you were really trying to make sense of what's happening.

you: hello there good sir, what in the name of fck are you doing in my boyfriend’s room all sweaty and half-naked😀

jin-woo: (name) it’s me

you: haha yes, sir ‘it’s me’ that’s a pretty weird name but i don't judge, anyways my baby boy is not here uhm haha please get out of my boyfriend’s room

jin-woo: (name) it’s really me!

you: no sir, my woo radiates baby energy, you on the other hand radiates big dilf energy, haha i do not like what i am sensing so please for the life of me leave-

(jinah had to convince you that it is indeed jin-woo, you had her stop you from trying to hold his tiddies)

> you were very happy in seeing how confident he’s become, and you were even more proud with how he still says so humble despite his new accomplishments and title.

> it was obvious that he has become distant with others and have set a boundary between him and other hunters, you accept that part of him though since you know just how much he has gone through. he may act aloof towards others but he’s still very playful and comfortable with you.

> you have also noticed another thing though, he has become a bit possessive or much protective over you and jinah. he’d always have you bring a shadow with you to guard you when he can’t be with you. also, when someone stares at you for far too long, he’d step in and go, “hey there pal” and oh gosh was that enough to get the guy running (pretty damn hot)

> you still visit his mom with him, he doesn’t cry now though.

> when he trains, you’d insist on lying down below him when he does push-ups. you’d kiss him every time he swoops down and you’d hear him laugh which then makes you giggle as you hold his cheeks between your hands

> jinah is sick of the two you, always screaming about how on earth did her brother get an s/o before her, the audacity!

> his shadows adore you, of they’d always try to impress you or get head pats when you tell jin-woo to summon them for you. you live them to bits and always thanks them for a job well done in helping jin-woo with his raids. on the first time you accompanied him for a raid -you had to bribe him with more cuddles- and you were shocked with how his sweet adorable shadows turned a full 180, becoming ruthless towards the enemies. quite a show you’d say. after though, they’re back to flocking over you, even dismissing jin-woo lmao

jin-woo, watching you give each shadows head pats: i hate it here

you: get in line then

> it may be due to his newly acquired talents and his current mental and physical prowess but he has become more perceptive towards you. he can always read you and know just what your mood is and he always tries to make you feel better by giving his whole attention to you.

> of but of course, since dear jin-woo has become quite the looker, you also notice how girls flock over to him. and especially miss hae-in (she’s very sweet yes, but hey that’s your man so like—). the moment you discovered that she left her guild to join jin-woo’s, and then confessed (well basically she did) to your man, well you were upset but really who could blame her? instead of taking your frustrations out on her and your boyfriend, you decided to just talk it out with jin-woo and ask him about how it went. the two of you cleared it out and you got kisses and maybe even more after that ;))

> you and jin-ho are menaces to society when you are together, he hates how endearing and annoying you two can be. i mean, does he really hate it? nope, he absolutely loves seeing you two interact, although his head always throbs when you two start screaming to britney, gaga, and doja.

> a tease, he has become the master of being a tease, you hate it and love it at the same time. he’d trail kisses down your neck to your thighs and leave some marks then he’d suddenly walk away while asking you what take-out you want. rude, that’s what he is. ofc he always finished what he starts tho oop-

> he always randomly bites you now, you don’t know why but it’s really cute when he starts nibbling so you let him be.

> so extra when he tells you that he loves you. he professes it in such weird but adorable ways. one time he had printed out ‘i love you so much’ on a big-ass tarpaulin and had his shadows hold it for him while he’s kneeling down smoldering at you. you hate him so much (you don’t-). or that one time he bought a bouquet basket and had a ring tied to one of the flowers, you had to take the bouquet apart since the damn ring fell to the very bottom.

> sometimes when he gets back to the agency after his dungeon raids you and jin-ho would see him all grumpy and you immediately know that either he wasn’t able to make the enemy his soldier or his coat got ruined.

jin-woo: *sad noises*

jin-ho: that’s okay, you can kill and slaughter the others and take their souls next time

you: jin-ho couldn’t you have worded that better-

over-all, he’s the bestest boyfriend, such a sweet and handsome pretty boy much strong and reliable we love him<333

-•-

- a/n: i can add more to this if you’d like!! just hit me up again lmao it’s too long now so-

#sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #manhwa #jin woo #jinwoo #sung jinwoo #winamikobabbles #sung jinwoo x reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

“Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

“Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

“Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

“No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

“When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

Something hisses.

His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

“Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

“Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

Well, technically, the sprite found him.

“There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

“Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

“I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

“Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

“You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

“This? This what you want?”

The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

“That’s it? You done now?”

The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

“…you’re welcome.”

The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

“Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

“I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

“Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

Virgil just nods.

————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

“There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

The dog just barks. And changes color.

He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

“Alright, the book it—whoa.”

The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

“She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

“Sir, you’ll die!”

“She’s still—“

The top of the house crashes down as—

Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

“I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

“Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

“Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

“…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

“Ah, I see.”

And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

“Now breath on it.”

The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

“That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

“Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

“If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

Get it? Surefire?

Shut up, he’s hilarious.

————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

“Good season, Anbel?”

“Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

“Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

“Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

“No charge.”

“Come on.”

“No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

“Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you assume that I did something?”

Virgil just gives him a look.

“…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

“Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

“Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

“Have any others reported anything?”

“Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

“Where is it?”

“Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

…between them.

Virgil holds very, very still.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

“I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

The breeze rustles through the leaves.

“I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

The trunk shifts again.

“If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

There.

The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

“Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

“Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

“You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

“How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

His eyes widen.

About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

“That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

“It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

“It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

“I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

The growls get closer and his foot slips—

“No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Okay…okay.”

He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

A low hiss sounds in his ear.

He just manages to avoid a scream.

“Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

“Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

“Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

“So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

“No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

“Hey!”

Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

“That was rude.”

The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

Virgil’s chest tightens.

One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

“Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

“Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

Does it…want to play?

Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

“Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

The kraken chirps.

He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

“What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

“You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

The kraken insists.

Sure. Why not.

Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

He never was one for dragon hunts.

The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

He never promised to hurt anything.

Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

This feels like something else.

There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

The cave is right there.

He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

It’s quiet here.

He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

…wood, eggshells…

Okay, look.

Look.

Virgil’s tired, okay?

It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

He knows what he’s doing.

He does!

It’s fine.

This is fine.

This is so utterly fine right now.

But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

Whatever.

Virgil cracks an eye open.

“…hey, there, dragon.”

Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

“Um…fancy seeing you here?”

The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

“Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

Shit.

A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

“Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

“Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

He pauses.

Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

“I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

“Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

“You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

No response.

“We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

“Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

“Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

He yanks.

The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

“Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

“I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

“Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.��

He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

It looks…wrong.

It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

He turns when the dragon starts to move.

It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

“Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

The dragon huffs.

With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

“…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

His fists clench.

“They hurt you.”

Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

“Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

“This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

“…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

“The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

“No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

“…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

It’s always the same.

Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

“I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

“Thank you.”

————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

This one’s a bad one.

Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

“….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

“If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

“Shh, the both of you.”

“This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

“Oh, don’t you start!”

“Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

“Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

“Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

“We’re not scary, shut up.”

“You’re scary.”

“All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

“There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

“Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

“Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

“Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

“You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

“Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

“I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

“Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

Oh.

“…you’re the sprite.”

“I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

“…the mastiff elemental?”

“Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

“Can you guess who they are?”

One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

“Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

He smirks. “Janus.”

The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

“You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

“Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

“He took me out!”

“Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

“Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

“Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

“You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

“You’re the dragon.”

“I am. But you can call me Roman.”

“…does it still hurt?”

“Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

“I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

“You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

…shhh…

“I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

“Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

“…you could say that.”

“Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

“You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

“H-help?”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

“Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

“As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

“Did you��is that my—“

“I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

“What did you want?”

“We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

“It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

“You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

“You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

“Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

“Careful, dear.”

Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

“But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

“Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

“We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

“And me,” Remus says.

Patton nods. “And me.”

Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

“You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

“Help? With—with what?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

“But there must be something we can do.”

He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

“So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

“They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

“Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

“You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

Who protects the protector?

“…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

“Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

“F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

“Let us protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

…well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

“While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

“So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

“It was not!”

“Yes, it was!”

As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

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thewritteninferno · 2 years

Text

The Runaway Groom

Genres: Romance/Lighthearted/Angst

This writing is inspired off of a prompt by @gingerly-writing. You can find the prompt here. Thank you, @gingerly-writing, for this word-vomiting prompt (seriously, could not stop once I started writing).

________Starting of prompt

“I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress for me one day.”

“The only time I’m wearing a wedding dress ‘for you’ is to your funeral.”

________Ending of prompt

She didn't think it would end this way. She really didn't.

But as she ran through the crowd with a bloodied white wedding dress and broken heels, hot tears streaming down her face, she was almost sure her worst nightmare had come true.

"Fuck, I swear, if he died on me a minute after exchanged rings --"

He was on a phone call, agitated and distracted with the man on the other end of the line. "Yes, we ordered a limo, as you can see written on the reservation ticket, you fucking twat." He ran a hand through his raven hair, willing himself to calm down before he murdered the man on the other end of the line.

"For fuck's sake, if I have to speak to the manager --" His voice paused when he saw her descending, eyes trailing up and down the figure that came walking down the stairs, clad in a slim white mermaid-style dress that clung to every curve. Her golden brown hair tumbled down in wild curls.

Descending, she walked down, the wild beauty. Right into his Hell. He felt sinful looking at her, like he was Hades whisking -- no, stealing -- Persephone away into the Underworld with his mere gaze.

His hands reached to his collar, loosening the tie at his neck when he saw her brows scrunched up in confusion, pursing her lips. And then he noticed,

The bumbling fool on the other line of the phone was still fucking ranting.

"S-sir I-I'm sorry I-I don't know how we - we could have messed up the reserva --"

"I want it." He was still looking at her. No, his gaze was boring into her. Her skin practically lit red under his smoldering, scrutinizing gaze and she had to look away just to not get burnt. As if to clarify his words to her, he continued on the phone. "I want the limo booked. I don't care how. I need it by midnight. Get one booked or I'll get you fired." He cut the call before the company worker could reply.

He placed the phone face-down against her kitchen countertop, still gazing at her appreciatively. This certainly hadn't been what he was expecting when he came to pick her up for the annual Noble Gala.

"You might want to stop staring. Any more and you might drool."

"I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you princess?" Her gaze was still at her feet. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him. "A handsome, dashing, intelligent --"

"Going to keep bragging about yourself more? I might fall asleep by the time you're done --"

"Charming man like me, giving you the time of day." She snorted at that, ignoring the smooth and velvety tone of his voice. She ignored his footsteps that neared closer and closer until he pulled her chin up to meet his eyes --

Handsome, fuck yeah he was handsome. And fuck him for the smugness and confidence in his gray eyes. He knew what he was. She pursed her lips and he smirked lightly, silver eyes twinkling with mischief.

"The way you act around me, it's as if you want me to kiss you, princess." She scoffed, outraged. She pushed him lightly, but he caught on to her waist with his left hand, burning the skin under the dress with his mere touch. It felt like a branding.

"I assure you, kissing you is the last thing I have on mind."

Lie. That's what she said back then. But she lied.

And her lie crashed down on her harder and harder when she realizes she was about to kiss her soon-to-be husband mere moments ago -- a Wedding kiss.

Now where the fuck was he?

His smirk widened. "Really now, then why does your heart race faster the closer I get to you?"

"Adrenaline." Her answer was curt.

"So I raise your adrenaline."

"I --"

He raised his free hand, letting it trail over her bare arm. She didn't shiver. She definitely didn't.

"You know, when I see you in this innocent, gorgeous white dress, it just makes me think that," he began, arm moving higher towards her bare shoulders, over her collarbone, into her hair to tuck away a stray stand of hair.

His breath ghosted her ear. “I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress for me one day.” She sucked in a shaky breath.

“The only time I’m wearing a wedding dress ‘for you’ is to your funeral.”

She regretted those words. Oh fuck, she regretted them so bad.

"We need to run. Sweet, we need to run, come on --" Her friend pulled her across the altar.

One minute, they were about to kiss, they were about to fulfill their marriage --

And then he's fucking gone. Gone.

A gunshot, glass shattered, someone screaming, and she looked down -- her dress was bloodied. The fucker shot her leg. Huh. Apparently she couldn't feel pain when she couldn't find her supposed-to-be future husband.

"Where are you!??! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Screaming over the running crowd, screaming over the fighting, wait, wasn't she supposed to be fighting? She was a hero. She was supposed to be protecting everyone. They say that when you marry, two souls bind into one.

When she was in danger, she was the only thing his eyes ever saw.

When he put that thin platinum band with a single small and subtle center-diamond on her finger, it looks like she took that characteristic from him because right now, the whole world could be burning, but if she couldn't find him --

No, that's not a possibility. She had to find him but --

A scream went off. Fuck, apparently her moral instinct overtook any selfish feature she got from him. Sometimes, just sometimes she wished her heart allowed her to be selfish.

"You can't save everyone. One day, you'll have to choose. Learn that."

That's what he'd always tell her. But she loved proving him wrong.

She pulled out the dagger strapped to her leg and fought one of his henchmen that were threatening the screaming man. She pushed the screaming man aside, lunging at the henchmen with brutal force, pinning him to the ground in seconds, cutting his leg badly enough to hinder him but not kill him.

"You'll have to kill someone at some point."

"No, I won't. That's your style, not mine."

His voice was quiet. "You might have to kill me at some point."

She still had no idea what the fuck was happening inside the altar, but her friends would take care of it. They would be okay. A sinking feeling creeped into her that he betrayed her or was dead.

Before, she couldn't have told which option she preferred. Both would kill her.

But right now, she'd do anything to pray for him alive. He couldn't drag her down to his Hell and just leave her there. He had to be with her. He was hers.

It was easier to think about what happened inside now that she was outside. The henchmen were obviously her m.i.a. husband's, but no, he wouldn't betray her at this point. Not if he didn't want her to kill him. But there were heroes there too, fighting against her friends.

And then it clicked.

The Hero Agency and the Villains crashed the wedding.

"Fuck," It was obvious now, in retrospect. Just a week before the wedding, despite trying to keep the news hidden, both sides threatened death to both of them.

She was outside, safe now. And he better be too.

If he died on her, she'd kill him.

________

NOT A PROMPT.

By the time I wrote this, it turned out much longer than I anticipated. So, I'll have to make this a multi-parter. This might have 1 or 2 more parts max. depending on how I lead the story. Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next part(s).

#Not villain channeling his inner-Karen with sPeAk tO tHe MaNaGeR.#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #romance #lighthearted #angst #romance writing #wedding #marriage #multichaptered #brunette #dark haired #danger #flirty #threats #feisty #response to prompt

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theeslytherinslut · 3 years

Text

A Shit Tutor (1/4)

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader,

Word Count: 1,903

Warnings: language, Draco’s an ass (surprise)

Request: “Can you write a fic where draco is asked by a professor to tutor a fellow student but he falls for her? Thank you and I absolutely LOVE your work!!”

A/N: This is just the first part of what will likely end up being a 3-4 part-er! Hope it’s intriguinggg :) Also this is clearly a sort of alternate universe in which there’s no war, no Slughorn, and Snape still teaches the N.E.W.T.s class

Part 2

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

With an exasperated sigh, you shoved the cauldron away from you, pulling your hand back as it spilled and destroyed the table beneath it.

“Oh, come on!” you hissed, more colorful words longing to leave your mouth.

“Y/L/N? I don’t recall instructing to burn through the table,” Snape sneered, coming to stop at your table as he swept through the room. Snickers could be heard from the other side of the room, and you seethed in your chair.

A Slytherin who couldn’t make a simple decaying drought to save her life.

A Slytherin who seemed to be in the wrong place in Potions.

“It was an accident, sir,” you breathed, forcing yourself to bite your tongue.

“I should hope so. This is your,” Snape paused and thought for a moment. “fourth try? Is it not?”

“It is,” you said through clenched teeth. It seemed his House favoritism only extended to those who excelled in his class.

“How you managed to scrape an O and squeeze into my N.E.W.T.S class I’ll never understand,” Snape shook his head, his voice drawling.

“Me neither, Professor,” you said--really, it had been luck. The potions you had been tested on you just happened to be actually decent at, that, paired with intensive studying and an aptitude for testing, you’d scraped an O.

“Malfoy!” Snape suddenly barked out, causing you to jump.

“Sir?” he called from the other side of the room--the side from which the snickers sounded.

“Come and help Ms. Y/L/N before she burns through this very floor,” Snape sneered before, thankfully, whisking away to another table.

Draco then began packing his things into his bag, and seconds later, was sliding into the seat next to you, his smoldering pine-like scent filling the air, making your head spin.

“Sweet Salazar, what the bloody hell did you do?” Draco laughed, peering into the cauldron.

“Evidently not the right thing,” you grumped, struggling not to enjoy the light sound of his laughter as it was at your expense.

“Clearly; I mean, I’ve seen mistakes, but that is just embarrassing,” he scoffed. Shocked at his blunt curtness, you were stunned silent.

“Scourgify,” he said, and with a wave of his wand, your cauldron was cleared of the bubbling goop you’d managed.

“Y/N? Right?” he asked, pulling out his scale and setting it on the table.

“That’s right, only been in the same house for 6 years,” you said scornfully.

“There’s a lot of people in Slytherin, can’t expect me to know everyone's name,” Draco shrugged, looking unbothered. You just rolled your eyes at him, not wanting to speak with him any more than necessary.

“Here, split these vertically,” he said, pushing a pile of caterpillars at you. Pulling your onyx blade from your bag, you did as he asked. “If you can manage that without fucking it up.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” you sneered at him, narrowly avoiding slicing open your finger as your hands shook with anger. “I did manage to get into this class, you know. I’m not completely helpless.”

“I’ve no idea how. Longbottom could do better than that mess.” he sneered.

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” you hissed.

“Whew, language, Y/L/N,” he grinned. Rolling your eyes and gritting your teeth, you resolved to silence for the rest of the class unless absolutely necessary. The next few minutes were quiet work, Draco pausing to give you instructions every few minutes, his long fingers working quickly. And before you knew it, it was over; the massive bell reverberating throughout the castle, signaling the next period.

“Alright, that’ll be the bell. We’ll pick back up here tomorrow. Leave your cauldrons. I’ll deal with them,” Snape commanded. At his words, Draco began packing quickly, looking back at Zabini, who seemed to be mouthing something at him.

“What?” Draco said quietly, leaning forward and looking intently at Blaise, evidently trying to read his lips.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you said, turning to him. But Draco was already halfway across the room, having left without a second glance. Stung, but knowing you were ridiculous for expecting any less, you shook your head at yourself and quickly left the room, your emerald-lined robes billowing behind you in your haste.

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

Back in the dungeons the next day, your foot anxiously jumped up and down, dreading Draco’s comments about your ineptitude with this potion, and dreading Snape’s snide remarks. You watched him as he jostled Crabbe across the room, grinning about something. His pearly teeth gleamed against his pale skin, lit sparingly by the fire bubbling beneath the cauldron in front of him.

“Wands away, Goyle,” Snape snapped, pulling your attention from Draco. The paper airplane Goyle had been supporting with his wand fell pathetically, and with a wave of his own, Snape set it ablaze and it disappeared in seconds. “Well, go on—no need to wait for instructions. I gave them at the end of last class. Get your cauldrons and get to work.”

Draco rose from his spot next to Blaise and strutted his way over to your table, smirking as he did so.

“Hello,” he said, almost politely.

“Er, hi,” you said cautiously.

“Didn’t manage to develop some actual talent overnight, did you?” he sneered, pulling out his things.

“Not really. Didn’t manage to develop some decency either, I see,” you tossed back--determined not to let him get at you again. Sure, he was a Slytherin, but he wasn't the only one.

“Ooh, touchy today, are we?” he grinned spitefully.

“Just tell me what to do,” you spat, wanting to get the class over with.

“How very submissive of you, I do like that in a girl,” he said thoughtfully, winking at you.

“Godric, you’re an ass,” you breathed. “If you’re looking for submission, perhaps you should go back to your goons; I’m sure the both of them are utterly lost without you. Or Pansy, I know the simpering slag could think of nothing better than being bossed around by you all day. Personally, I can’t think of a more proper hell, but we all have our differences, I suppose.”

“I think you just managed to insult four people at once,” Draco said, looking thoughtful.

“I’m pleased you can count. Now, what am I supposed to do?” you sneered, crossing your arms.

“Whatever I say, love,” he grinned, winking. “Chop these up, finely, and stir them into the potion, stirring counterclockwise five times.”

“Alright,” you said, taking the pile of seedlings from him. His pale hand stopped yours and held it still.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, shaking his platinum blonde head at you. “Repeat it back to me.”

“What?” you scoffed, incredulous.

“Repeat what I said back to me; should I say it slower?” he said, cocking his head to the side. You were so angry, a hysterical laugh bubbled from your lips; your chest positively on fire with anger.

Seconds from exploding, you saw the knowing smile growing on his face and closed your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, willing yourself not to take his bait. A surely insane smile on your face, you opened your eyes.

“Chop these up, finely, and stir them into the potion, stirring counterclockwise five times,” you repeated word for word.

“Excellent, you might have hope yet,” Draco taunted, meeting eyes with Blaise from across the room and grinning.

Draco Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin, what a complete and utter sodding wanker. It’s no wonder the little shit didn’t have any true friends; who the hell could stand him? Catching your friend's eyes from her seat across the room, you mimicked stabbing yourself in the throat with your knife, earning a snicker from her. The little interaction with a friendly face calmed you immensely.

“Now what?” you asked, turning to Draco and steeling yourself for another smart remark.

“The last step. I’ve ground up the moth wings already,” he said, standing to tip a container of fine, shimmering dust into the cauldron. With a whoosh, it turned an inky blue, and he smiled. It was rather nice, his smile. He was almost handsome--alright, he was downright gorgeous--when he wasn’t being an absolute prick.

“Staring, Y/N?” he grinned, his grey eyes flitting to yours and winking. A flush of embarrassment flooded your face, and you dropped his steely gaze, your silence answer enough.

“S’Alright, if I saw me, I might stare as well,” he shrugged, grinning cockily at you.

“You’re disgusting,” you whispered, seconds before Snape appeared soundlessly behind you.

“Ah, much better, excellent, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape praised suddenly, causing you to jump slightly.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco simpered, smirking proudly. Several sets of eyes rolled around the room, and you found comfort in that you weren’t the only one he caused to do this.

“Do you see how it’s an inky blue? How it’s not corrosive? How it isn’t burning through the table?” Snape snided, turning to you with a malicious glint in his eye.

“Yes.” you seethed through clenched teeth, unable to trust yourself to not mouth off if you opened your jaw.

“So, what did you do wrong? What catastrophic mistake did you make to produce the most abysmal potion I’ve yet to see in my N.E.W.T.S class?” he asked, eyes alight in your anger.

You could feel every eye in the room on you, and to your complete horror, you felt angry tears pricking at your eyes. Blinking rapidly, determined not to show such weakness, you tilted your chin up and glared into the blank, black eyes before you.

“It was the moth dust, sir. It wasn’t ground fine enough, and she only stirred 3 times,” Draco answered for you. Despite your shock, you held your ground and glared up into Snape’s eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, but I believe I asked Y/N. If she can’t make a proper decaying drought, I should hope she’s at least intelligent enough to recognize her mistakes,” Snape said, his voice icy.

“If I knew my mistakes, sir, I wouldn’t make them. Would I?” you seethed, unable to hold it back any longer. As if you were going to let Draco Malfoy protect you. Surprised hisses and gasps sounded throughout the classroom, and you knew you’d fucked up.

“Detention. 3 days. With Filch,” he sneered, getting closer to you as he spoke, daring you to say anything else.

“Delightful,” you quipped back, a fake smile on your face.

“And 10 points from Slytherin for cheek. Making me take points from my own house, disgraceful,” and with a billowing wave of his cloak--he was heading back up to the front of the room.

“Tuesday, we will begin working on a lovely, tricky little potion known as Felix Felicis; you’ll be in partners,” he said, looking around the room before stopping on a pair of tittering Ravenclaws, “And I’ll be choosing the partners.”

The small class visibly deflated at the prospect of Snape choosing partners, causing Snape to grin lightly, and with that ominous note, he ended the class.

Desperate to get away, you left everything on your desk, only ensuring you had your bag before racing from the room, the frustrated tears falling freely now.

“Y/N!” you thought you heard Draco call--but surely you were mistaken, unless he wanted to further embarrass you or rub it in. Before he could do either, you burst into the girl's restroom and out of sight.

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cultgambles · 3 years

Text

Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gender neutral reader #sukuna x y/n #reader insert

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riddlersbimbo · 2 years

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PAUL DANO as THADDIUS The Ballad of Jack and Rose (2005)

#paul dano #the ballad of jack and rose #thaddius #‘i can’t smolder’ sir yes you can #my content #dano dude #smoking tw

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

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Jax Teller: Fuck You Better

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of your BFF Jax Teller giving you the best sex ever!! There is some fluff because the two of are you totally in loooove... but also lots of smut, now that Jax knows you like it rough 😜 Recommend reading Part 1 first—Part 2 picks up where we left off...

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Jax Request: This AMAZING anon request

Word Count: ~2.8k

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

Bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, bitch.

The fact that he just dared to say that shit... so fucking savage. So damn stupid. Standing there and slaying you with his smoldering stare—then in the next split second, slamming you against the wall again, coming within an inch of swallowing the space that’s left between your lips and his—that sacred distance, all the safety that you cling to in resistance...

“We shouldn’t do this, Jax,” you try and fail to push him back, though you’re already soaking from how suddenly the beast in him attacks. “Jax, we just can’t—we can’t go there...”

Why does he have to be so fucking big and strong and tall? One forearm braced against the wall, his other hand rakes through your hair. “Oh, I ain’t going nowhere.”

It’s taking all your strength to keep your shit together. “I’m serious, Teller. We promised each other we’d never—”

Now he has both hands in your hair, which really isn’t fair. “I don’t... fucking... care.”

You dare to meet his clear blue stare, and all you see there in his eyes... is all the truth behind the lies: that he cares more than anything. And is no longer scared to tell you everything.

“You know what else we promised? To always be honest,” he fiercely reminds you; it’s true. “And I’ve broken that promise again and again, Y/N. For fucking years I haven’t told you what I really wanted. What I’ll always want.”

His name escapes you in a moan. “Jax, don’t...”

“Don’t what,” he interrupts. “Don’t tell you that it kills me every time I think about some undeserving dick fucking you up? Don’t tell you that your face is all I see whenever I’m inside another random slut? Don’t wanna hear it? I don’t give a shit. ‘Cause I am done keeping my mouth shut.”

Oh, this is too damn much. You fight against the impulse to dissolve to dust beneath his words, his touch, to just surrender and succumb. Fight desperately to keep your dignity intact. “Jax, you don’t really mean that! You just wanna fuck the only girl you’ve never had! Then once you’re done, I’ll just become...”

The thought of what you’re saying now completely shocks and sickens him. He looks like he’s gone numb. “My God, Y/N, are you that fucking dumb? You think I’m—”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know anything. Except that if this happens, Teller, I will never love another man again,” you tell him, honest as you’ve ever been. Somehow his touch upon your skin, here in this moment, rips your heart open and summons all the truth from deep within. “Jax, if I let you in... I’ll be ruined.”

The words have been spoken; there’s no turning back. Your heart is laid bare to be taken and broken by Jax.

And he takes it. He fucking attacks. “Ruined?” he repeats—yet when the word falls from his lips, heavy with heat, it hits so different. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing, Y/N. Trust me, it isn’t. That’s just what I’m planning on doing.”

Oh God. Oh God. Jax makes total destruction sound so fucking hot. Every cell in your body is melting with... fuck, you don’t even know what. You have never been so deep in love, and you’ve never been such a damn slut.

He goes on to tell you exactly what he meant. Exactly what he wants. “If this happens, Y/N... when this happens... I don’t want any other man putting his hands on you—holding you, loving you, fucking you—coming anywhere close to my woman ever again.”

His woman? His woman?! Did he just say the word ‘coming’? The submissive whore inside you has officially been summoned.

And the dom inside him knows just what he’s doing. “You ready to be ruined? If you let me in, I swear I’m going to destroy your cunt. I want you to be ruined for all other men. You understand?”

“Yes,” you respond, yielding to his demands, giving in to this god of a man just as fast as you possibly can. Never been such a mess.

“You want the guy who’s gonna fuck you best? And love you best? ‘Cause I promise that’s always gonna be me, Y/N,” your beautiful best friend professes his love again. “Whether you’ll have me or not, I will love you like I always have, more than anything, anyone else. I won’t stop.”

“Then don’t. Don’t stop,” you beg him, cradling his flawless face within your hands, so close yet never close enough. Not till he’s deep inside you, till the two of you are one. “Jax, you’re the only man I’ll ever want. Love you so much it fucks me up.”

His palm upon your cheek is so painfully soft, before the hot passionate sex that’s bound to be a hundred shades of hard and rough. And then he leans in toward your breathless lips... to kiss you for the first time now you’re finally fucking his. “Yeah, that’s my kind of love.”

By the time the kiss is done, you have no clue just how much time has gone. Two seconds? Twenty thousand? Doesn’t make a fucking difference. Time begins just as it ends: it doesn’t even, when you’re stuck so deep in heaven.

When Jax finally pulls back, it’s just because he knows how much higher the two of you can go. This kiss, as epic it is, is just part one. The trip to heaven’s only just begun. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“You, Jax. I want you,” you effuse, still high on just how fucking good it feels to tell him something true. To give life to the love you’ve always tried to hide from view. “Always and only you.”

He smiles against your lips, and you can feel his while curling at the edges, into something of a smirk. The dirty devil deep inside him is about to get to work. “Yeah? And what do you want me to do?”

“Everything.”

The smirk flickers into a snicker, as he twines through your hair with his masterful fingers, until your toes are curling, insides totally unfurling. “Use your words, darlin’. Be fucking specific. Tell me what’s missing when you settle for some lesser dick. ‘Cause all those spots he missed... I’m gonna fucking hit.”

Oh, you don’t doubt it. He already is—how did you ever live before this? Haven’t even taken Jax’s dick yet and already you can’t fucking live without it.

He had commanded you to use words, but your brain is just a blur.

And so he orders you again, hand drifting down toward your dripping cunt, demanding a response. “Tell me... what you... want.”

Fuck. Holy fuck. Some kind of answer leaps off of your tongue, as you choke out the words in a stammering grunt. “J-Jax, I can’t—can’t even talk. I want... I need your fucking cock.”

The dirty bastard chuckles as your knees buckle. “To suck? To fuck?” he taunts. “Want me to read your mind, slut? Listen to your body, see the signs? Guess I can do that. Now that it’s all mine.”

As his big strong arms wrap around you now to lift you up and carry you to bed, one thing is spinning through your head: your mind is reeling from the fact that Jackson Fucking Teller just called you a slut. And not just as a joke, from friend to friend—no, as his woman. The truth is you’ve dreamt of this moment more often than you’d ever want to admit. But somehow Jax just knew it. And now that it’s finally happened, you want him to do it again and again and again.

“That turn you on?” he laughs, as if he has to ask, throwing you down onto the mattress flat against your back. Unfastening his jeans now as he stands between your knees, towering over your trembling body. “You like it when I talk dirty? You like knowing that you fucking belong to me?”

What even... are you in literal heaven? He is seriously godly.

Jax pulls down his jeans and boxers so damn slowly, knowing fully that you’ve never wanted anything so badly. “Then let me tell you, slut—you’re gonna love the way I fuck. You’re gonna love taking this big hard fucking cock.”

You honestly can’t think. Cannot fathom the fact that this happening. Cannot believe your luck.

When Jax’s massive meat is finally unleashed... your eyes go wide just at the sight, and he smirks down at you with pussy-soaking pride. And he has every fucking right. It’s everything you need. It’s so ridiculously huge, throbbing and thick between his strong muscular thighs, and you have no clue how it’s gonna fit inside you, but you want it to destroy you all damn night.

“Told you I fuck the way I fight,” he says, staring into your eyes as he swiftly and easily strips off your dress. “I fuck to win. To fucking ruin. By the time the night is done, you’re gonna think you fucking died.”

Sweet Jesus Christ. You’re finally naked on the bed, and you have never been so wet. You need that big hard cock to drive between your legs, to treat you to the world’s most epic sex. And yet you’re also desperate to give him head, because his dick looks honestly delicious. What you need is for this man to fuck all your holes, to feed your shamelessly slutty soul. And so the words escape you in a needy, greedy splutter. “God, just—just fuck me, Teller.”

His smirk is so dark as he teases you with the promise of his big perfect cock, and it’s really the hottest thing ever. The force of his dominance fills your heart, tears you apart, as it holds you together. “Mmm, baby, I can tell you’ve never been wetter. Knowing nobody can fuck you better.”

Holy fucking hell...

Jax finally gets himself onto the bed, straddling your chest, reading your mind so well. Ready to feed your thirst. “Face first?”

You give him the obvious answer. “Yes, sir.”

The word earns you another smirk. Taking his cock in his fist, the wet tip of it hovering over your lips, Jax begins to jerk. “Sir, huh?”

“Jax—” you gasp, but before you can even attempt to say anything else, your whole mouth is stuffed. “Unphh...”

Mother of God—his cock tastes so insanely good. Tastes even better than it looks, better than you had thought it would. It doesn’t even make sense for a dick to taste like this, but from the first second Jax first let you taste the tip, you know you’ll never get enough. You’re so fucking in love.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl,” your lover snarls in approval as he starts bucking his hips, shoving his thick shaft deeper past your panting lips. “Dirty little slut. So fucking desperate for my cock. Now suck.”

Jax takes a firm grip of your head and fucks your face into the bed and you are well and truly dead.

You might honestly get off from the sounds out of his mouth alone. The way he growls and grunts and groans. Calls you his filthy fucking whore, cocksucking bitch. It isn’t long before his breathing starts to hitch, and you can feel his length inside your mouth begin to throb and twitch.

As desperate as you are to take his load, to swallow all his cum down your devoted throat... before you can, your man has other plans. He slides his dick out of your mouth, positioning his body further down. Groping all over you with his dominant hands. And you’re all set for him to spin you right around—given the rough tone that he’s set, seems only natural he should take you from behind—spanking your ass until it’s red, yanking your hair, making you arch your spine, as he bends you over the bed and plows his dick inside, taking you there, and blows your goddamn mind...

But no, at least not yet—instead, Jax keeps you on your back just as you are, his gorgeous body hovering above yours on the bed. Kisses you passionately on the mouth until you’re seeing stars, and reads the mess of thoughts swirling around inside your head.

“It’s our first fucking time, Y/N. You think I wanna miss a thing?” he breathes into the kiss, grinding his dick against your soaking pussy lips. “Eyes open, babe. I won’t ever forget this moment. Want you to see everything. Feel everything. Because that’s what you are to me, and always have been. Love you more than anything.”

...This cannot be real life right now? Just... how? What the actual fuck is even happening?

“Don’t worry, darlin’... making love still can still be good and rough,” he speaks the words just as he starts plunging inside you without warning, till you’re fucking stuffed. Then he reminds you of the silly thing you’d said before. The stupid words that sort of started all of this, for better or for worse... scratch that, most definitely better. “Said you wanted my balls to kiss your ass. Remember that? This good enough, you filthy little whore?”

Oh fuck. Oh yes. Your pussy stretches open for his perfect cock, so full it feels it’s gonna bust, now as his balls slap up against your ass with every perfect thrust. And all you want is fucking more. His hips are moving in a rough, ravaging rhythm, as you savor every second of this perfect pleasure with him.

All the while, Jax whispers dirty words into your ear with his devilish smile—taking this dick so good... yeah, that’s it, bitch... so fucking tight, so wet... ugh, such a filthy little slut—mixed in with sweet nothings that seriously fuck you up—you are so fucking perfect... you have no clue how long I’ve been wanting this, wanting you... God, babe, I love you so much...

You both want this to fucking last. To ride as many waves as possible higher and higher, building on the fire of your shared desire, till you finally hit your climax.

But it’s not long before both you and Jax lack any more strength to hold back. You explode in the same exact moment, both screaming and moaning, hearts open, as you finally give yourselves over to everything you had been dreaming and hoping. Both so scared till now of what you might have lost—but whatever it was... this is well worth the cost. Now that you know it’s more than just lust.

You and your best friend Jax Fucking Teller are officially fucking in love.

You find yourself drowning again in his kisses—they’re fucking delicious—with no sense of how much time passed once you’re both finally finished. Lying back on the pillows to catch your breath, coming to life after loving each other to death. God, so fucking in love...

Once your senses have somewhat come back, you glance over at Jax, not quite sure what to make of the question he asks. “Did we just take the ‘F’ off?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

His luscious lips curve up into a boyish little grin. “You know—BFF... BF...”

Finally getting what he means, you cuddle in closer with the lifelong man of your dreams. “Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend, Jackson Teller?” you playfully tease. “Are you asking if this means that we’re officially together?”

This badass biker looks so damn sheepish and shy right now you might honestly die. “I mean, I’ve never fucked someone I love before... isn’t this how it works?” he murmurs. “Just making sure.”

You’re now convinced, as if you weren’t before, that you could not possibly love him any more. Jax Teller is a fucking treasure. Exists to be cherished, adored. “You’re so cute when you’re clueless,” you tell him, softly nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. “So you really wanna do this?”

“Did I stutter, bitch?” he huffs. “I want to take the ‘F’ off. Told you I’m in love.”

“I love you too, Teller. But I dunno—I really like the last ‘F’ for ‘forever’...”

“Hmm, yeah so do I...” he sighs, and you can see the color of forever in his eyes, true and blue as the sky. “But you know what—just fuck the labels. Fuck the letters. None of that shit matters.”

Nothing matters but the love that you’re so blessed to share with your best friend forever, Jackson Fucking Teller.

So he tells you, for good measure. “All you need to know is this: you’re fucking mine, and I am yours. I fucking promise... every day that we’re together... gonna love you more... and fuck you even better.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this!! Would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

I think one of my other fics – Louder, Bitch – makes an especially great sequel to this! ✨

Masterlist

Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

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Blackbird: 10

As the last song ends you slow your movements. Steve guides your hips down onto his lap again. Your hands are around his neck, you don’t know how they got there but honestly you don’t really care. He stares at you, neither of you say a word as you stare back. You’re not sure but you feel like your heart is pounding so hard that Steve will be able to hear it. His hands are warm on your hips, he’s warm beneath you and your heart is racing. Another song is playing from your playlist but you’re not paying attention. You’ve danced for attractive men before but this is somehow different.

“Steve! We’ve got an issue!” Bucky calls through the door breaking the spell you’d been under.

“Buck this better be fucking good.” Steve snarls as you hurry off of his lap and grab your sweatshirt. He stalks to the door and unlocks it then yanks it open.

“Her place is on fire.”

“What?”

“What!” You echo, your place?

“Firefighters are putting it out but it doesn’t look good.”

“Let’s go.” Steve says and you hurry after him.

“I want to come.”

“No.”

“It’s my place!”

“I said no.” Steve growls turning on you, “this is a tactic. Start your place on fire, you come running, Rumlow snags you.”

“You can’t keep me here!” You snap following him as he starts away from you again.

“Birdie I’ll lock you in your room. Do not test me.”

“I’m coming with.”

“Dressed like that?” Bucky interjects eyeing your shoes and bare legs and again Steve growls lowly. “Relax Cap I know. No touching.”

“Birdie you’re not coming.”

“Yes I am.” He lets out a heavy sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose then says, “Fine. Two minutes to change. Meet me downstairs.” You gape at him for a second then hurry down to your room. You change quickly then make your way down to where his car usually is. It’s gone.

“Fucking asshole!” You snap before making your way out onto the street. You call him and he sends you to voicemail.

“Birdie.” A voice calls and you turn to see him straddling a navy blue motorcycle, “Come on.” He passes you a helmet that you shove on before you climb onto the back of his bike. It takes minutes to get to your house. It’s not on fire anymore but it is smoking heavily.

“Do not leave my side. Got it?” You nod mutely as you stare at your home. You take his hand needing something to hold onto as your heart breaks. Steve leads you to where the fire chief is.

“Sir you can’t be here!” The fire chief yells over the ruckus.

“That’s my girl’s house.” Steve says and the fire chief looks at you.

“Where were you?”

“Not home all night if that’s what you’re asking.” Steve answers for you when you stare at the man in surprise.

“It looks like it was started intentionally. Lucky you weren’t home ma’am.” He says giving you a suspicious side eye.

“Why the hell would I start my place on fire? I just had a new window put in! I love my brownstone! Most of my stuff was in there!”

“I never said you did ma’am.”

“Sure sounded like it to me.” Steve growls and you nod.

“My apologies ma’am.” He says, “you won’t be able to go inside tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Not safe. Come back in the morning.” Steve glances down at you, you can feel his eyes on you but you can’t seem to tear your eyes from your smoldering home.

“Could he have done this?” You ask Steve softly.

“Don’t see why he would but I don’t know.” Steve tells you honestly, which you appreciate. “Getting to you in your home would be much easier than getting to you in mine.”

“Is she going to be safe?” You ask not wanting to say Ada’s name, there are too many people around.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then. Nothing I can do here tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yea.” He leads you back through the crowd and passes you the helmet again. After he puts his own helmet on he slides your body closer to his with a tug of your legs then starts the motorcycle.

When you pull back into the garage with Bucky to your left you don’t move as reality hits you. Your home is gone. Much of your stuff is probably gone.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s all gone. My home is gonna be a gut job. I’m going to have to pick up another half night at the club to afford this. And do more private dances. I’m so fucked.” You see the two men exchange a glance but are still surprised when Steve backs the motorcycle out of the garage. “What are we doing?”

“Trust me?”

“Yes?” He nods then pulls away from the house, you drive for somewhere around two hours. When he pulls the motorcycle to a stop you’re confused.

“Come on Birdie.” He takes your hand and leads you into the park then down a path through the woods. He goes to cut off the path when he sees that you’re in a pair of shorts. “I’m gonna carry you through here.” He says turning his back to you then waits for you to climb on. You hesitate for a second but then see all the stuff you’re going to be walking through and hop up onto his back. He walks for a couple more minutes before you arrive at a very well hidden pond, it’s down in a little valley that if you didn’t know was there you’d fall right into. Steve sets you down then brings you through a cave and around a corner and suddenly you’re at the edge of the pond.

“What are we doing here?” You ask as he lets go of your hand.

“I come here to relax. To think. You need a minute to unwind so here we are.” He says taking his leather jacket off. He peels his shirt off then sits down on a rock to take off his boots. “The water is warm.” He assures you, “and I’ve got some supplies hidden in the cave. Towels and stuff.” Ah fuck it. You decide, he’s seen you practically naked more than once, hell earlier you were practically naked in his lap. So you toe off your tennis shoes and yank off your socks as he drops his pants and boxer briefs and jumps into the water butt naked. You tug your shorts off and after a moment your underwear, then your sweatshirt and sports bra are next. You hurry into the water before Steve turns around.

“Okay?” He asks and you realize he’s asking for permission from you.

“Yea.”

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @sky0401 @dontbescaredtosingalong @fanatic434 @abschaffer2

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #mobster!steve rogers #mob boss!steve #mob boss steve rogers x reader #mobster!captain america x reader #mobster!steve rogers x reader au #mob!au #blackbird story

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maddogofshimano · 3 years

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A Man’s Promise: Daigo Scratcher Event

Daigo time! Look at these fancy new cards (and karaoke Akiyama, who is the scratcher prize for some reason)

This one ended up being much longer and funnier than I expected, and we get to see Daigo being kind of cool!

Summary: Daigo goes to investigate rumors of Omi Alliance remnants in the outskirts of Kamurocho. He bumps into an old friend turned enemy and gets tangled up in the unintended difficulties the Tojo-Omi war has caused for a local elementary school.

With the conflict between the Tojo and the Omi coming to an end, on the outskirts of Kamurocho, the root of the conflict between east and west is still smoldering.

Daigo: The remnants of the Omi Alliance are still around Kamurocho? Is that true?

Yayoi: Yes, that's the current situation as far as we've been able to tell. Even though things are finished, one group has rallied and refuses to accept the outcome. Daigo: Tch, those asshole...! Kashiwagi: Just to be safe, I've informed the clan members to be ready to move out war at any time--at least until this dispute is settled. I'd like to avoid further burdening our members with this.

Daigo: ....Then let's see how those assholes like dealing with me. Yayoi: Daigo, what are you planning on doing? Daigo: I'm going to smoke out those Omi remnants and drive them back to kansai. Kashiwagi: We need to avoid getting into a second conflict with the Omi. Daigo: Yeah... I got that. <Daigo heads out> Daigo: (Well, talking about hunting down the Omi remnants is all well and good, and they're supposed to be in Kamurocho's outskirts) Daigo: (But how the hell am I supposed to find the bastards...)

???: Aniki. Daigo: You're... Shitamura? (Tl note: could also be Shimomura or Shikukira or probably a bunch of other readings but that's what I'm going with. No clue if he’s been in anything else, I don’t recognize the name!)

Shitamura: You really remember me? Shitamura: When I heard my aniki had gone and become the head of the whole Tojo Clan, I figured you'd have forgotten all about me. Daigo: When you conspired with the other side, I was crushed. I haven't forgotten you at all. Shitamura: Haha, you remember stuff from that long ago? Shitamura: By the way aniki, do you think ya could put in a good word for me to join the Tojo Clan? Shitamura: I'm sure you can see that I'd be useful to you. Daigo: You better think carefully before making jokes like that. Daigo: Do you think I'd deal with a double-crossing man like that? Shitamura: Oh, is that so. Well if the Tojo Clan doesn't take me, won't that mean I have no choice but to work with the Omi? Shitamura: You understand the situation, right? Shitamura: There's still a considerable number of Omi remnants hangin' around Kamurocho. Shitamura: I'm holdin' my breath until the Tojo Clan gets tripped up by it. Daigo: What do you know about the Omi remnants? Shitamura: Who can say? Daigo: So that's how it is. If you want to join the Omi, that's fine. Shitamura: What? Daigo: Go join whatever organization you please. I don't have any right to stop you. Daigo: However, if you join the Tojo and betray them in favor of the Omi... Daigo: I'm destroy you with every ounce of my strength. Shitamura: Oooh, scary. Seems that you're the one tellin' jokes now. Daigo: It's fine if you think it's a joke... but it's not. Shitamura: Wait, where are ya going? We're not done talkin', right?

Daigo: I have to investigate the Omi remnants. I don't have time to deal with you. <Daigo leaves> Shitamura: Shit. I gotta get back on the right track! (Tl note: struggling here. 調子に乗りおってからに!) Daigo: (I've been talking to people for a long time, but no one seems to know anything about the Omi remnants.) Daigo: (Is it already that late? I'll have to make another try tomorrow, then. Hm? That's....) Daigo: Hey, what are you doing out this late? (Tl note: I very briefly thought this was the same kid as in Haruka's scratcher lmao)

Takashi: ...Who are you, old man? Daigo: You can call me Daigo. And you are? Takashi: ....Takashi. Daigo: I see.... Hey, Takashi, you should hurry up and go home, won't your parents get worried? Takashi: Leave me alone. Daigo: Well that's not going to happen. It isn't good for a kid like you to be out this late--especially when loitering by yourself, this street is hard to call safe. Daigo: So go home, I'm sure you have homework to do. Takashi: ...But, I don't want to go to school anymore. Daigo: Do you get bullied at school? Takashi: That's not it. Daigo: Well then, will you tell me why you don't want to go to school? Takashi: The event I planned just got cancelled. Daigo: Event? Takashi: It's a scratch card event, you could even win a prize. Takashi: I went and handed out scratch cards to all the old folks on this street. Takashi: If someone won, they'd get one of the rings or necklaces we all made as a prize. Daigo: So why did it get cancelled? Takashi: Because a bunch of scary old men are having a big fight in Kamurocho. Daigo: ....................... Takashi: If we held the event, we'd all get dragged into their fighting... Takashi: So, we had to cancel it. Daigo: So that's what happened. Takashi: All that planning we did? It ended up being for nothing... Takashi: We spent all of our free time after school doing our best making those scratchers... Daigo: ...But, the fighting is already over. If you held it now, there shouldn't be an issue, right? Takashi: We can't. Those scary old guys are still loitering around our school. Daigo: What? Takashi: They lost the fight but they said that even then they won't run away. Daigo: ....Takashi, which school do you go to? Takashi: Ochiyama Elementary. (Tl note: Literally "falling mountain" which is a really funny name for an elementary school) Daigo: (Ochiyama... that is a little bit outside of Kamurocho) Daigo: (Kashiwagi-san did say they were on the outskirts of Kamurocho, so are the Omi remnants hiding out at Ochiyama.....?) Takashi: Since the event I planned was cancelled... After all of our hard work........ Takashi: Everyone tells me that these things can't be helped.... but that just makes me feel worse.... Takashi: So that's why I want to stop going to school...... Daigo: (This kid.... I can't help but feel responsible for this.....) Daigo: ....Go on home for tonight. I'm sure your parents are worried. Takashi: But! Daigo: It'll be okay if you go home. Takashi: If you keep saying that I'll just go somewhere else. There's a lot of other places I can hang out.... Daigo: That's, uhh... Takashi: See ya. Thanks for worrying about me. But, I'm not going to go home. Daigo: ....If I go talk to your school and get them to run the event, will that make you go home? Takashi: Eh! Really? You'll talk to the old guys there so the event can happen!? Daigo: Yes, I promise. Takashi: Sure, I'll go home then! But don't you forget your promise, okay? Daigo: A real man isn't a backstabber. <the following day> Teacher: Principal, there's a guest here to see you. (Tl note: oh my god Daigo. imagine being this poor principal and the chairman of the local yakuza shows up like "hey you gotta run this scratcher event the kids worked really hard on it :(" I would die)

Daigo: Pardon the intrusion, Principal.

Principal: So, which student are you here about? Daigo: I'm... a member of the Tojo Clan's Dojima Family. Principal: T-Tojo clan...!? Daigo: I've come here today to make a request. Daigo: The event that the children thought of, can I get your approval on it being run? Principal: The... event? Daigo: The scratcher event. We've heard that it was cancelled. Principal: It's true that the event was cancelled.... But why are you interested? Principal: I think people like you have meddled with the children's event more than enough. Daigo: There's no deep meaning behind it. Really, we just can't forgive ourselves if we disadvantage children like this. Principal: Oh... So you're sticking to your own principles. Principal: You should know that the event was cancelled because of a yakuza attack in the vicinity. Principal: Do you think that by doing this you will end up causing us more trouble? Daigo: (There shouldn't be anybody on the turf around here. So that means it is the Omi remnants...) Daigo: .....I promise the children will be safe. So please, allow the event to happen. Principal: I can't trust in the promise of a yakuza. Principal: I can't stand to see a school become so noisy anyways. I was only doing the event for the board of education. Principal: Now, even if I run such an event, my evaluation won't get any better... Daigo: Oi, Principal... Daigo: Didn't you hear me? Principal: Huh? What? Daigo: I'm telling you that if there's any problem at all I'm here to clean it up. So there's no problem from you, right? Principal: O-Oh, right, that's what you said, sir. H-Ha ha... Daigo: Of course, Principal. I'm glad we're understanding each other.

Daigo: Well, I'm off. I look forward to working with you after this. <Daigo leaves> Principal: Hoo... What the hell, why me..... Why do I have to suffer through meeting someone like that...!

Takashi: Mister!

Daigo: Ah, Takashi. Takashi: We're going to have our event! You really did keep your promise! Daigo: It's like I said. A real man never double crosses. Takashi: You're right. Thank you! Well, I gotta go prepare! <Takashi leaves> Daigo: Heh... I can hardly believe he was so depressed before. <Daigo's phone rings> Daigo: Hm? My phone is... This is Daigo. Principal: I-It's me. The principal at Uchiyama Elementary. Daigo: Ah, you. Have you decided to open the event? Daigo: I'll owe you one for this. As thanks. Principal: A-About that, just now a bunch of mean looking men just entered the school. Principal: They came in here to ask about you, and what we talked about. Daigo: What? What do you mean? Principal: I told them why you were here, and they stole all of the scratchers for the event tomorrow... (Tl note: rggo actually fucked up on this and marked this as Daigo dialogue when it clearly isn't lol) Daigo: All the scratchers were stolen? What the hell, who does something like that... Principal: The man, he was named Shitamura. Daigo: Shitamura huh.... And he took all of the scratchers? Principal: That's correct..... every single scratch card the children made, they're all gone, so the event won't be able to happen... Daigo: Shitamura, that bastard... What is he playing at...... Principal: That person did ask me to pass along a message.... Daigo: A message? Principal: He said he'll be waiting at Kamurocho's Batting Center... Daigo: Got it. I'll head there right away. <Daigo goes> Shitamura: Yo, aniki. Ya kept me waitin'.

Daigo: Shitamura, why the hell did you steal all the scratchers those kids mad? Shitamura: Why, to lure you here... I knew you'd have no choice. Daigo: What? Shitamura: There's a lotta people that have a grudge against ya. Omi Member: Hehe. It's about time we repaid the favor. Daigo-san.

Daigo: Seriously, you're... Shitamura: Yep. A buncha Omi men. Me, I actually decided that the Omi was the better deal. Daigo: Shitamura, you fucker... Shitamura: C'mon, I saw ya goin' into that Ochiyama Elementary school. Shitamura: And I got to wonderin' what that was about, and boy was I surprised when I got the story from the principal. Shitamura: My aniki, who's got a glare that could scare a cryin' kid into silence, is off doin' all this cause of a brat. Shitamura: Everyone's been sayin' ya lost your edge when ya went back to the Tojo Clan. Daigo: It doesn't matter what you think of me. Just hand over the scratch cards already. Daigo: Those kids worked real hard making them. Shitamura: Do you think bein' told soft shit like that will make me hand 'em over? Daigo: What are you hoping for, asshole? Shitamura: You're so cold to me. You really gotta let go of that grudge. Shitamura: For now the good people of the Omi want to get some payback. Shitamura: Of course, not even you can handle this number of people. Daigo: ....Well, we'll see. Shitamura: I'll let you in on something, as a final gift to take to your grave. Shitamura: That rumor about the Omi remnants hiding out around Kamurocho, I was the one who planted that. Daigo: What? Shitamura: That's why ya didn't find any Omi sniffin' around Ochiyama. Daigo: Then why is the Omi wandering around Ochiyama Elementary? Shitamura: That's just to extort cash from the principal. Shitamura: That principal is neck deep in gamblin' debt with the Omi. Daigo: So, the only one lurking around the school was you? Shitamura: Exactly. The remnants of the Omi was just a hoax to catch you off guard--and it seems like you, soon-to-be chairman, have fallen for the bait. Shitamura: Once I kill ya, my cred with the Omi will go through the roof. Daigo: So when you approached me about joining the Tojo, that was a ruse too? Shitamura: Yep, if I could get closer to you, I could get more info on the Tojo. Shitamura: The Omi pays top dollar for that kinda stuff. Daigo: Seems your backstabbing is alive and well. Honestly, I'm relieved to hear that. Shitamura: Why's that? Daigo: Since it was only a rumor that remnants were hiding, the Tojo can stand down from it's war preparations. Daigo: One more thing, none of you fuckers understand a damn thing about why I went into that elementary school. Daigo: So don't trust in your own power so much. Shitamura: ....Is that so. Shitamura: Though if the next chairmen died here, that would be a big problem for the Tojo, right? Daigo: Me, die? I already told you to think before you say stupid shit. Shitamura: Oh, well ain't you full of yourself? Shitamura: The Omi has a big grudge over the war. Think they're gonna be happy with a settlement? Daigo: I understand... It's on me to remind them about why the Tojo Clan is feared. Shitamura: Excellent, let's fuck this bastard up!

Shitamura: H-How the hell'dya win against that many people!

Daigo: It doesn't matter how many weaklings you gather. It's pretty sloppy of you if you're only noticing that now.

Shitamura: Shit! Daigo: With that out of the way, hand over the scratchers. Shitamura: What the hell.... Why's a guy like you want to help some elementary school event...... Daigo: I made a promise to a kid. I'm going to make sure that event happens. Shitamura: Th-That's it....? Daigo: I told that kid I was making a promise to him as a man. That's plenty of reason. Shitamura: Ha, hahaha.....! Daigo: What's so funny? Shitamura: ......I was small-minded in hinderin' ya, I think. There couldn't be more difference in the kind of man you 'n' I are. Shitamura: I wanna stop bein' a yakuza. Daigo: That's a good idea. Shitamura: The scratchers are stashed in this locker. ...Well, I'm off for good. Enjoy yourself, aniki. Daigo: Sure... <cut away> Kashiwagi: Pardon the intrusion.

Principal: A-And you are? Kashiwagi: Greetings, I'm Kashiwagi, member of the Tojo Clan. Principal: A-Another from the Tojo Clan... What do you want this time? Kashiwagi: I have something to deliver to you. <a soft thump of paper hitting the table> Principal: Th-This is...? Kashiwagi: 3,000,000 yen. Please accept it. Principal: Eh!? W-Why are you giving this to me...? Kashiwagi: Our next chairman is indebted to you for your assistance. Principal: Next... chairman? Kashiwagi: A young man by the name of Daigo Dojima. He came here, right? Principal: That fucker- ah, I mean, that gentleman, he's going to be the Tojo Clan's chairman..... Principal: Wow. I had no idea who visited me.... or that I'd get so much money........ Kashiwagi: Please don't trouble yourself with that. This money has no strings attached. Please continue on exactly as you were before. Principal: I-I just don't understand this... Kashiwagi: You listened to our soon to be chairman's request. This is the reward. Principal: Th-That was really worth 3 million yen? Kashiwagi: The next chairman, for some reason he really enjoyed that event for the children. Kashiwagi: Without you, he wouldn't have been as enthusiastic about starting out..... You understand, right? Principal: Uh-.... right, I got it! Absolutely, I pushed through anyone who voiced opposition! Kashiwagi: The next time you hold an event, the next chairman would be thrilled to take part. You have the gratitude of all of us, Principal. Principal: Ha, haha... Th-That sounds great! How could I ever refuse something like that... ha ha ha............. Kashiwagi: ......Around here, Omi remnants have been appearing frequently--which is your fault. <Music cuts out> Principal: ..................Eh? <Music gets ominous> Kashiwagi: You know they've been coming by wanting to collect on the money you blew on gambling and playing around. Kashiwagi: That's why, in order to collect that money, Omi have been loitering around the vicinity... Kashiwagi: Therefore, the real reason the children's event was cancelled, is you. Principal: Well.... that's.... Kashiwagi: Furthermore, you've been hiding this fact--hoping that the Tojo Clan might wipe out the Omi around the school before the cause of it ever came to light... Kashiwagi: But it didn't, and I think you've made this very difficult for us. Did I miss anything? Principal: ..................... Kashiwagi: ........Come now, to hold the children's event a dangerous group like the Omi was wiped out.... Kashiwagi: So it's all done and dusted... wouldn't you say, principal? Principal: Y-Y-Yes sir....? Kashiwagi: If something like this happens again... We'll have no choice but to bring down the hammer. Do you understand what I'm saying? Principal: O-Of course.... Something like this will never, ever, ever happen again, I swear..... Kashiwagi: Well, I'm thankful you understand things now. Coming here today was a good idea after all. Principal: Y-Yes sir... From now on I'm going to be on the straight and narrow.... Absolutely..... Kashiwagi: Haha, no need to go that far. ....Just make sure you don't cause problems for people again and you'll keep living just fine, Principal. Principal: Y-Yes sir... Of course....! Kashiwagi: If you'll excuse me then. I'll drop by to visit some other time. <Kashiwagi leaves> Principal: Hahahaha.... haaa....... I'm.... going to stop gambling..... <cut to the park> Takashi's friend: Takashi-kun. The scratcher event was a huge success! All the old men and ladies on this street loved it! Takashi: Yeah. Did everyone have fun?

Takashi's friend: Yeah, of course! Takashi: Nice! I better get thinking of how to make the next event even more interesting, it'll be so fun! Daigo: ...............

Man in black: Daigo-san, are we going to continue watching these children? (Tl note: BRO your own bodyguard calls you by first name???) Daigo: No, there doesn't seem to be any more Omi in this area. There's no need for further observation. Man in black: Understood. <Man leaves, Daigo gets a phone call> Daigo: Kashiwagi-san, what is it? Kashiwagi: I've just received information that a foreign mafia group is trying to expand into Kamurocho. Kashiwagi: Daigo, we need you back at HQ to start developing counter measures. Daigo: Got it, I'll be there shortly. <hangs up> Daigo: (It's just one thing after another huh... Well, this is the responsibility that comes with my position....) Daigo: (The job of the Tojo Clan's 6th Chairman, a role I'm starting to step up to)

<END>

Bonus time:

can you imagine what that principal is going through. I know he’s a shit head and kind of deserved it but it’s just so so so funny to see Daigo and Kashiwagi bullying this guy

the most important thing about the entire event is that the scratchers looked like this

please enjoy a faceapp by @majimemegoro as well that made me wheeze

finally he can smile and not look like it’s hurting him immensely to do so

#yakuza #Ryu ga Gotoku #daigo #daigo dojima #dojima daigo #rggo #ryu ga gotoku online #kashiwagi #yayoi

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vlindervin7 · 3 years

Text

put your chin on my shoulder, love

read on ao3

Put your chin on my shoulders, love. Climb under the quilt. Remind me what joy feels like. You do it every day, darling -- shouldn’t be too troublesome for you.

***

The sun is sinking when Kieu My arrives at the shop, and with it its warmth disappears too. She shivers when she pushes open the door. She quickly closes it behind her to preserve the warmth inside, and lets it warm her up before she enters the store.

She’s only been here once or twice, but she already loves it. There’s something magical about the dim lighting mixing with the colours of the aquariums, the fish all around her and the purple lightning.

The colours of the bi flag, she thinks with a little smile. She’s been noticing these things more and more, doing research and embracing it as part of her instead of fearing it. It feels nice, quiet acts of acceptance and pride.

She’s still lost in thought when suddenly from behind she hears, ‘Kieu My!’

Her smile grows at the sound. When she turns around she’s met with the sight of Fatou bent over one of the aquaria, one hand holding a box and the other excitedly waving at Kieu My. Kieu My’s body does a small excited bounce before she has the chance to stop it, before she can contain it and then realise she doesn’t need to be guarded anymore and do it anyway. This way is definitely quicker.

When she’s by Fatou’s side, Kieu My breathes out a ‘hi’. Fatou straightens onto the tip of her toes and drops a quick kiss on her lips that, however brief, makes something tighten in her chest. The sweetest person on the planet is her girlfriend and Kieu My doubts there’s anything she’s ever done that made her deserve this.

‘Hi! I’m almost done, just gotta finish feeding some of the fish. I’ll be right there.’ She waits for Kieu My’s nod as her cue to continue doing what she was doing, and Kieu My starts walking to the register to sit down and wait. She’s stopped by Fatou saying ‘wait’ before she can get very far, though, and when she turns around she finds her rummaging through her sweater pockets, and finally fishing out a bright pink piece of candy wrapped in crackling plastic. Then, with her hand outstretched and the candy in the middle of it, she bows. Taking on a ridiculous, deep voice, and looking up at Kieu My with an exaggerated smoldering look, she says: ‘My love, will you accept this candy as a token of my affection? It stands for my heart and is as sweet as you are.’

Fighting back a laugh, Kieu My curtsies, takes the candy and brushes her lips against it, before pressing it to her heart. ‘I will take good care of it, good sir.’

She manages to look serious for about two seconds before she succumbs to giggles, even though a part of her was dead serious saying she’d do anything to keep Fatou’s heart safe now that she’s been trusted with it. It’s the most important task she’s ever been given.

She pops the candy in her mouth, and asks, ‘Why do you walk around with a bunch of candy?’

Fatou’s still softly laughing. ‘It’s for when kids come in! They like it.’

‘You’re sweet.’

Fatou turns her smile downwards and shrugs, ‘It makes them happy.’

Kieu My laughs at her bashfulness, but she knows she doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to Fatou.

Fatou shakes her head, seemingly shaking herself out of the state she’d gotten in. ‘Okay! Go sit down, I’ll finish up quickly.’

This time Kieu My manages to actually sit down on the chair behind the register. She gets comfortable with her leg folded on the chair and her chin resting on her knee. She’s perfectly placed to keep Fatou in her line of sight, see how she feeds the fish and talks to them, how she wipes down aquaria while humming a tune and bobbing her head to it, how she catches Kieu My’s eye and gives her a smile that’s as bright as the first time. Kieu My’s pretty sure she’s in love.

It takes about ten minutes for Fatou to finish what she’s doing and come bounding in Kieu My’s direction. ‘Now I just need to count the money, and we can go.’ She drops a quick kiss on Kieu My’s head, setting free a horde of butterflies who were dormant in her stomach, and opens the cash register with a ping. ‘Sorry for making you wait.’

‘It’s okay’, Kieu My answers. It’s all she can say, unless she wants to let her know she’ll wait however long she needs to spend time together, and that she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than sitting right here, but she doesn’t think she’s ready to be that honest quite yet.

Instead, she gets up and, using her height to her advantage, wraps her arms around Fatou’s waist, and sets her head on her shoulder. She’s just tall enough to easily be able to look over it to what she’s doing. It makes Fatou pause for a second, leaning into it, before she picks up the money she was counting and promptly starts over.

‘Am I distracting you?’, Kieu My asks, putting her lips on the exposed part of her shoulder.

With a huff Fatou answers, ‘Yes.’, and shivers when Kieu My kisses her neck. She allows it for a few seconds, before gently moving Kieu My’s head away from her skin. ‘Now, shush, I need to concentrate.’ She punctuates it by bringing one of Kieu My’s hands to her mouth and kissing it before wrapping it back around her.

Kieu My laughs. ‘Sorry’, she says, but she’s not really. Really her whole body feels warm with the kiss and with the knowledge that Fatou didn’t push her off entirely, that she’d rather be distracted than do that. She’s definitely in love.

It doesn’t take long once Kieu My behaves, and five minutes later the cash register has been counted, the amount has been written down, the lights are off, and Fatou is closing the entrance door behind them with a key attached to an axolotl keychain.

With how warm and comfortable she’d been inside, Kieu My had forgotten how cold she’d been walking here, and now that the sun is completely gone it’s even worse. She wraps her coat tighter around herself, but it doesn’t do much. She still shivers hard enough for Fatou to notice.

‘Are you cold?’

‘Yeah, forgot my scarf at home.’

‘Here’, Fatou says, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and, not listening to Kieu My’s protests, stands on her toes to wrap it around Kieu My’s neck instead, leaving it there with a kiss on her nose that only serves to heighten the warmth she’s receiving from the scarf.

‘But now you’ll be cold.’

‘Nah’, Fatou says. She zips up her jacket all the way up and pulls her hood up, too. ‘See? I’m all covered.’

She does look very well-protected to the cold, but Kieu My can’t help feeling guilty. ‘You sure?’

‘Yeah’, she assures her, accompanied by one of her little head bobs, ‘I’m sure. And besides’, she takes Kieu My’s hand and starts walking again, their entire sides pressed together, ‘this way you’ll just have to keep me close.’

‘Okay’, Kieu My breathes out, putting an arm around Fatou’s shoulder so she can pull her even closer to her, ‘I can do that.’

the excerpt is from here! thanks @davidtransking for the suggestion! if anyone wonders what to buy me for my bday ill take an axolotl keychain in honour of fatou

#druck #ill take kieutou requests if anyone's interested #also the scarf part is based off of the time i was possibly maybe sort of in love with this girl and how i lent her my scarf one day and my #gay brain wrote a whole poem abt it bc it felt so special #my writing

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lucycola · 3 years

Text

The Lone Survivor: Part 2

Spock x Fem!Reader

Premise: Fem!Reader accidentally bonds with Spock when rescued from her own starship crash. The Golden Trio realize the footage from the wreck could wrongfully incriminate the reader. They attempt to find a way out of this. PART ONE HERE

SLOW BURN. Eventual smut in later parts. More Bones dialogue than probably necessary but WHATEVER. Fatherly Bones. There will be more one on one Reader and Spock in part three. Right now it plays like a normal episode with build up because I’m stubborn.

WARNINGS: Movie amnesia, sexual themes if you squint, mentions of death, and implied one-sided matrimony.

Part 2: The Night We Met I Knew I Needed You So

There was no mistaking the final moments illustrated in the found footage from the Calvary. It was you assaulting the crew on the bridge-you setting a course straight to destruction on Toravalve 9.

However, Mister Spock had disagreed. He had reached into your mind and saw you in your own eyes. It couldn’t have been you.

After carrying you back to the medbay you were put safely back in your bed with a Doctor McCoy who hovered over you like a disgruntled mother bear. With the tricorder at your forehead you pleaded with him to relax.

Captain Kirk had been summoned to hear what you both, or rather, Mister Spock had to say. For some stranger reason Spock omitted the existence of the orange tape. He deliberated his own findings via meld instead.

“A copy of sorts, Captain.”

“And you’re sure you saw the Lieutenant looking...at her own self?”

“As unlikely as it may seem, it is was I saw. Although it was also demonstrated that the Lieutenant received a severe head injury before witnessing her own self attack the crew members.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t some kind of...” Kirk deliberated for a moment, “... out of body experience.”

“Also unlikely. Although it is perceivable Lieutenant L/N maybe have suffered delusions after cranial trauma I possess a suspicion that an illusion was made unto the Lieutenant and the crew.”

Kirk glanced at you for a moment and back to Spock, quizzically at first, but then with a dashing smirk. “A hunch, Spock? How very...human.”

Spock quirked a brow, hands still stonily behind his back, “All endeavors begin with a hypothesis.”

“You believe me,” you murmured, from your bed still although no longer in your white, medbay gown you were graciously presented with black Starfleet fatigues. Nurse Chapel had gently maneuvered your unruly waves into two pleats that were coming undone slowly.

A stark contrast to the pristine, polished head science officer.

The fingers on Spock’s right hand flexed at the sound of your voice.

He only turned his head to look at you, “Empirical data is what needs to be obtained-whether I believe what memories are buried in your subconscious is incidental.”

“They still don’t feel real,” you admitted. Not even your name felt real.

“Such an admission will not help your case and I advise you keep that opinion to yourself, Lieutenant.”

You felt like he was chiding you. Your ground your jaw slightly and you knew he could feel it: the aggravation, the impatience. Fear.

His right fingers flexed again, but his expression, unchanging as ever, gave nothing away.

The electric pool of warmth in the back of your mind hushed you, told you to remain calm. Diplomatic.

How could looking at your own self feel real? ‘She’ seemed so real. You had walked around the corner and met yourself, squaring you up instantly. She lunged for you and you wrestled with her, shocked at the fact that you had your own hands around your throat. They weren’t your hands. It was an imposter.

How? That was the real question.

“How do we find proof then, Mister Spock?” Kirk asked, reinserting himself.

“We locate the imposter and confirm my hypothesis.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Kirk replied.

“Indeed it will not be so. Commander Craft is aware of the meld that took place and will order me to testify my findings against the lieutenant. Until the Lieutenant’s sanity can be declared-”

“I’m sure I can help with that,” the doctor said, almost appearing out of nowhere.

“What is left is concrete evidence,” Spock added.

“The imposter,” Kirk finished, nodding.

“Who’s Commander Craft?” you asked.

He turned to look at you. You were made to feel the oblivious child with everyone in the room talking about you. However, you listened and you absorbed. You were careful with your input. Listen first, talk later, you thought to yourself. The presence in the back of your mind hummed in monotonic approval as if to say, good girl.

You wondered what those words tasted like on Spock’s lips. You shuddered in embarrassment and turned your head away.

Spock coughed uncharacteristically, “Commander Craft is the elected official heading the investigation crew from the Federation. We were contacted yesterday and were to present a full report of our findings and happenings.”

Which included the bond. That detail in itself was still above you, not fully explained nor understood. You could feel it for what it was and knew he was there. Not why or how, however.

“We must garner more time,” Spock continued to his captain, “And possibly keep myself from testifying.”

“We could declare you insane,” the doctor quipped earning another brow arch from his opposing.

“You’re asking for a loophole,” Kirk stated.

“Essentially, Captain.”

Kirk seemed to know there was more to it, the way he pursed his lips and put his fists on his hips. You knew yourself that if Spock testified against you with what he saw in the meld then there was no evidence against you truly-just what you yourself witnessed. However, Spock would be asked to tell the whole truth and that included the tape. If you were deemed crazy then your own experiences would be null and void.

Did Kirk already know about the tape?

Kirk sighed,” Spock, I...we’d be misleading not only Starfleet, but the Federation. This isn’t the first time you’ve-” he glanced at you, “-taken the unorthodox route to obtain justice.”

“Then I am asking for your trust, Captain.”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed then softened. He relented and with a sturdy tone which meant business as he relayed, “I suppose you already a loophole in mind then?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Spock paused, fighting to look at you.

“Well, aren’t you gonna tell us?” the doctor asked.

“Proposals are not so elementary to make on Vulcan, even when it is logical...but also yet not as it could fare unfavorable circumstances. Especially if one party is unwilling.”

It took Kirk a moment, and even the doctor even longer.

“You mean...?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You’re willing to marry her so you don’t have to testify?” he asked incredulously.

You were stupefied, impressed, but stupefied. The stoic Vulcan could play dirty. An actual proposal.

“You’re going to marry her?” Bones asked, mortified, “She’s a person...not a pawn! This is her life we’re meddling with. Marriage is a serious thing-”

“You’ll find, Doctor, that I am quite serious.”

“You could wreck her life.”

“I intend on saving it.”

Spock, your heart breathed.

“It seems like a reach for you, Spock,” Kirk said, “They would never believe the both of you, even if Y/N did agree.”

“It will be most believable as the Lieutenant and I have already made a bond.”

Silence befell everyone.

“You can’t be serious,” the doctor said finally, a fierce protectiveness in his voice. “At a time like this-”

“It was not intended as I am careful to shield my mind when partaking tactility with other forms-but, she called to me.”

And he had found you in the dark.

“She accepted it-although it is possible that may be due to the extreme duress she was suffering.”

“And you were there to save her,” Bones finished, a grave distaste in his voice.

“Such a bond can be mediated by a healer with moderate difficult just as a Terran divorce can be secured.”

It was a slap to the face. He was as willing to ‘save’ you as he was to dump you and leave you for dead. Red hot turmoil threatened in your core and you clenched your blankets. What was the point then?

Your crew was dead, your reputation tarnished, and everyone thought you were a murderer.

Let me die, you thought, just let me die.

“Certainly not,” Spock said quietly. Both the Captain and the Doctor eyed him wearily as this random statement.

“So you...negating your-”

“No, sir. I am simply waiting for Lieutenant L/N’s input on the matter.”

“There’s no way in hell she’d agree to this. The bond is clearly one-sided, Spock. How could you be so irresponsible?” Bones chided.

“A explanation escapes me.” He was still looking at you with smoldering eyes, with bright stars dancing behind them. Cold, but fierce.

What other shot did you have? How else could you bide time while searching for this monster? You wanted to give up. It would be easy.

Kirk leaned in to his second in command and suggested softly, “Perhaps you should ask more properly, Mister Spock. She is a lady. Bones is right. It’s her life.”

“Lieutenant-”

Kirk elbowed him.

“Y/N,” he corrected himself, “Will-”

“Yes,” you blurted in a hushed voice, “I will marry you, Mister Spock.”

You were left in your bed again under strict supervision this time. You reveled in the shock of what you’d just agreed to, and even the shock of the situation in its entirety. Rediscovering the monster that claimed your crew and your identity was still fresh and seeing it through your own eyes again with the meld drained the life out of you. You were exhausted, but your mind still raced. ‘It’ was on the ship-it had to be. They didn’t find a copy of you or anyone else in the wreckage. You wondered how recognizable some of your crewmates were and you had to still your frantic thoughts.

“What ever is going on up there it needs to stop. You heart rate is very high.” Doctor McCoy was already readying a hypo.

“That...thing. It might be here-”

“We’re on high alert, looking for any copies of ourselves. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened,” he tried to assure you.

“There are no red lights.”

“They get annoying after awhile. Whatever it is, it’s damn good at hiding. But we’ll flush it out. The Captain has a plan.”

“Did Mister Spock tell you the imposter can read your memories? That’s how it tricked me. Did he tell the captain?” you asked, wring your hands with the blanket.

“Your guess is better than mine.”

You thought back to Spock’s omission to the orange tape. Always flipping back and forth between elusive affection and monotonous professionalism. Marry me. Divorce after.

“He’s hard to place sometimes.”

“And you agreed to marry him.”

“I did,” you blurted stubbornly. “We’re bonded.”

Bones suddenly became eye level with you, bracing both hands on the rail. “But do you know what that even means?”

You arched a brown similar to Vulcan fashion, “Do you, good doctor?”

Bones shook his head and instead asked, “Sleep now or later? Does it help with the nightmares?”

“Yes, I think so. Now, I think. Doctor?”

“Yes, kitty?”

“Thankyou.”

Sleep was apart of the healing process and being roused from it interrupted that. That was at least what Bones tried to argue when the captain requested your presence in the conference room. Flanked by your fiancé and the kindly captain himself you were expected to hold an interview of sorts with Commander Craft via telecom before his arrival at the crash site. Several ships had already come to help clean up.

“What am I supposed to say?” you half pleaded with them, “I’m not good at lying.”

“You do not have to be deceitful. However, if you find yourself under duress the commander may suspect a guilt as I had sensed upon our initial meeting,” Spock replied, one arm linked on your good side.

Your other arm supported a crutch when had a nervous hand floating behind it via the captain.

Kirk shot a reassuring look your way. “I recommend the truth. Tell him what you told me, and you’ll be fine. He’s a bit of a stickler for rules and he’s tough on the stand-”

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“Or...a bit of theatrics couldn’t hurt if you get too overwhelmed. You did just lose your crew.”

“How could I forget?” Your lip quivered.

You three paused at the door.

“I trust my first officer, Y/N,” Kirk turned to face you, “As unorthodox as this has become, I put trust into his melds and by what he has told me you didn’t do anything wrong. That thing-that monster did.”

You couldn’t stop the tears dribbling. “Captain, I let my crew die.”

“Any death having occurred was unintentional on your part, Lieutenant, ”Spock said in his chilly tone, “As was demonstrated in your memory you tired to apprehend and fend off the creature, but to no avail. You did everything in your power. The human emotional phenomena your are experiencing is common upon singular entities having being spared from genocide.”

“That is?” Kirk asked.

“Survivor’s guilt,” you sighed, finishing the statement for you fiancé.

Commander Craft was not unkind, nor did he smile. He was neither young or old and his questions were fairly basic as the captain’s were three days earlier. You recounted all you could remember, and it was stressed by you and the captain that you had lost most of your general memory due to head trauma. Whether he seemed convinced was unknown to you. You tried to hold back in your distress. The warmth in the back of your mind wrapped around the little knot that pain and anxiety was birthed. It was squeezed it slowly, like the grasp of a hand. You delivered your answers calmly.

“The double of yourself, you saw. Did you see it transform from your father to yourself?” the commander asked.

“No sir.”

“Have you seen a copy of yourself since you boarded the Enterprise?”

“No sir.”

“And no foreign entity has been detected on the ship?”

“No sir,” the captain replied.

“Mmm,” the commander paused for the first time in what seemed like hours. “L/N, had you ever experiences delusions or hallucinations before?”

“I don’t remember.”

“And did you experience the trauma to your head before or after you saw yourself sabotaging the ship?”

“I...” you glanced, “I’m not sure. After?”

“Do you remember hitting your head at all?”

“I remember the copy throwing me hard against the wall and everything going black.” You tried to strengthen your voice, but it kept cracking. You heart continued to race. “And-”

It flashed.

“When I let my father on the ship. I went black there too. But I’m not sure if I hit my head that time.”

“And Mister Spock you were able to witness what Lieutenant L/N saw?”

“Affirmative.”

“But...through her point of view.”

Fuck. You had a feeling he would try to pull the crazy card.

“Were there any observation tapes recovered from the crash?”

“My crew obtained few, but to my knowledge they are still processing them,” the captain answered smoothly.

“Has any other information been made available to any of you?”

You could feel the edges of your vision blacken. You couldn’t make eye contact with him. Cold sweat had broken from your brow. A cold, steady hand placed itself to your brow. The natural warmth on your mind shimmered.

“She has a fever, Captain.”

“I won’t tolerate any nonsense, Lieutenant-”

“Commander, she has just lost four-hundred members of her family to a people-eating imposter!” Kirk bellowed lowly, “She’s kept it together well so far. I commend her efforts. You have the wrong idea about her.”

“Until I can find proof of this ‘imposter’ and until her psyche can be cleared by one of our doctors then we’ll see. This isn’t the first time the Federation has had to deal with the Enterprise’s shenanigans.”

“People eating?” you whispered in disbelief. Oh my god.

Spock caught on to Kirk’s unnecessary honesty. “It was discovered the imposter’s prime directive was to use the Calvary’s crew as sustenance.”

You toppled forwards and were caught and cradled by your fiancé.

“Take her to the medbay, Mister Spock,” Kirk ordered.

“Call for the doctor. I am not taking my eyes off her until we arrive!” the commander snapped.

“By the time Doctor McCoy arrives she will succumb to shock. I must attend to my t’hy’la in the most logical and efficient manner possible.”

Kirk fought the need to smile, not realizing that your theatrics weren’t really theatrics.

PART THREE

#spock #mister spock #mr spock #startrek #tos #star trek #spock x reader #spock x fem!reader #doctor mccoy #bones #jim kirk #captain kirk #kirk #oc #reader #slow burn #song lyrics of chapter is Be My Baby by The Ronettes

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