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posh--bee · 1 year

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freak like me || Eddie Munson

pairing → perv!Eddie Munson x bestfriend!Reader

summary → Eddie knows he is a pervert for having these thoughts about you that best friends definitely shouldn’t have about each other, for touching himself in your room when you were in the shower, for stealing your panties and now masturbating with them every night, and all the other shit you could never know about. But standing in front of his mirror and only wearing your lacy pink panties has to be a new low even for a freak like him. That is until you suddenly walk into his room and make him understand that the two of you are not so different after all.

warnings → smut (18+ only), fem!reader, sub!Eddie, slight softdom!Reader, male masturbation, dirty talk, handjob, mirror sex, cum eating, praise kink, a little hurt/comfort in the middle of it all, fluff and smut, best friends to lovers, no y/n used

author’s note → I just wanted to write something about perv!Eddie stealing his best friend’s panties and then wearing them. Other than that, I have nothing more to say for myself. I also have no idea how I feel about this fic anymore now that it’s finished, so let me know what you think about it!

word count → 5.8k

masterlist

It was a Friday night after a more than successful DnD session at the Hellfire Club and Eddie couldn’t wait to finally get home to have the trailer all to himself, listen to his music at what he thought was an acceptable volume without his uncle complaining about becoming deaf, opening a cold beer and just unwinding on the couch, probably smoking a joint as well for good measure.

Nodding approvingly at his own plans for the night, Eddie tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his van to the song that was currently blearing out of his speakers, letting his mind wander freely, from how well the campaign was progressing, to the English test he was sure he hadn’t done half bad at, and finally landing on you, as always.

You, his incredible, breathtakingly beautiful, smart, funny, and extremely hot best friend. Eddie, like the rest of your peers, still wasn’t entirely sure how or why the two of you had ended up being friends, given that he was the school freak who was attempting to graduate for the third time now, a drug dealer and apparently also the leader of a satanic cult while you were among the most popular girls at Hawkins High, but he would be the last person to complain about it. You understood him and accepted him exactly as he was, never judging him for being different or liking things others considered weird or even abnormal.

But even you would start to judge him if you knew what thoughts he secretly had about you, jerking off every night to you in these short skirts and dresses you always insisted on wearing, the countless glimpses of your lacy panties he caught ever so often when you were bending over, or sitting cross-legged on his bed, or when it was just a little too windy outside.

Eddie groaned at the imagines his mind promptly provided him with of you, lying on his bed with only his Hellfire shirt on, the hem of it having ridden up your soft thighs to give him the perfect view of the cute underwear you were wearing. He imagined himself positioned between your open legs then, kissing and gently biting his way to your center, seeing the material of your panties damped by your arousal before pulling the fabric aside and running his tongue through your slick folds, greedily tasting you until your thighs would begin to shake on either side of his head, crying out his name when you would come undone for him.

He grabbed the steering wheel tight, trying to think about anything other than this, but it was already too late. He felt himself grow hard in his pants and he knew that his plans for the night would look a little different now from what he had originally thought.

He felt disgusted with himself for thinking of his best friend like this, for using you like this, shame and arousal settling heavily in his stomach until he couldn’t distinguish the one from the other anymore, his erection now straining painfully against his jeans, and he brought one hand down to palm himself to get at least a little relief until he reached the trailer park.

When he had finally arrived and parked his van in front of his home he practically sprinted the distance from the front door to his room, impatiently turning on his stereo, trusting that whatever tape he had last listened to was a good one (and of course being right about it) before ridding himself of his vest and leather jacket while also toeing off his beaten sneakers. His shirt, jeans, socks and underwear quickly followed the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and he let himself fall onto his bed with a desperate sigh, wrapping his hand around his hard cock and firmly stroking himself, a bead of precum already gathering at the tip.

God, you could never find out about any of this. That you were the only person Eddie could think about when he touched himself, having to jerk off every time you left his trailer after having come over to hang out. Even doing it in your room one time when you had invited him to your place, lying on your bed while you had taken a shower. He had never come faster in his life, and it had been a good thing that he did because he couldn’t even bear to think about losing you because of it, about the inevitable disgust at him clearly visible on your pretty face, screaming at him for ruining the friendship that you had by being a pervert who had no control over himself.

And these weren’t even his only offenses in the past few weeks. The last time he had been in your room to hang out with you he hadn’t been able to stop himself from stealing a pair of your panties and taking them home with him while you had been getting drinks for the both of you in the kitchen downstairs, having known exactly which drawer of your dresser you used your underwear.

Letting go of his arching cock, Eddie now reached for the handle of his unsteady bedside table, throwing the drawer open and searching blindly for the lacy piece of fabric among the random other things in it, triumphantly holding it up when his hand had finally found it.

After turning on the small lamp on the table, he brought your underwear close to his face, unfolding and admiring it, the pale pink color and little details of it, feeling the delicate texture of the lace between his fingers, playing with the adorable bow that adorned the front of it.

He could clearly picture you wearing the garment with a matching bra that hugged your tits perfectly and he knew this image would be enough to keep him from doing anything more stupid than he already was at this moment—at least for a little while longer.

He wrapped the panties around his hard dick and started to stroke himself again, his eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss and his mouth hanging open, only focusing on the overwhelming pleasure he was currently feeling, already dangerously close to the edge. He worked himself even faster, frantically chasing his release, but hastily throwing your panties to the side before coming undone, a strangled moan escaping him while thick ropes of cum painted his hand and stomach.

He didn’t stop until he was completely spent and too sensitive to stand his own touch any longer, slowly opening his eyes and becoming aware of himself and his surroundings again, only to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom for a few moments, trying to recover from his orgasm. His bare chest glistened with a thin layer of sweat, rising and falling from his previous exertion, his heart thrumming against his ribcage.

Without moving too much he started to clean himself up after a few more minutes, hating the feel of drying cum on his skin, using more tissues than he probably had needed before throwing them roughly in the direction of where he had last seen the garbage can in his room.

Eddie lied back again, humming along to the guitar solo at the end of the song that was currently playing, his head sluggishly rolling to the side to see your clean but wrinkled panties on the bed next to him. He reached for them, balling them up in a fist and bringing it to his chest, his knuckles drumming absentmindedly on his sternum.

He could never let himself soil something so pretty, especially because it belonged to you. His best friend, precious and pure, far too good for a freak and pervert like him.

He unfolded the lacy piece of clothing again, holding it up between his hands, stretching the elastic of the waistband a few times and then doing something that he had never done before, never even thought about doing before.

Sitting on the edge of his mattress, Eddie bent down, his long hair falling over his shoulders, holding the panties so he could carefully slide one foot and then the other in them, gradually pulling them up his claves, over his knees, to his thighs, higher and higher until he had to get up from the bed to bring them up completely.

His heart beat painfully fast in his chest and his cheeks grew hot as he looked down at himself. The first thing coming to his mind was that underwear like this was evidently not designed for someone with his anatomy. The second thing, however, was that despite this and the fact that wearing pale pink panties made from delicate lace and decorated with bows felt incredibly foreign to him, he didn’t dislike it.

Cautiously stepping in front of the mirror in his room, he studied his reflection with amazed curiosity, tilting his hips sideways and sliding his fingers underneath the lace parts of the garment that hugged his ass beautifully. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, trying and failing to suppress the flustered grin growing on his face, taking in his appearance wide-eyed and in awe. His messy hair, his accessories and tattoos, his whole being a stark contrast to the adorable pair of panties on his body.

And yet he felt right wearing them.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from his own reflection, one hand lightly stroking up his chest while the other one settled warmly on his stomach, fingers splayed out on his skin, when the world around him was suddenly dominated by silence, the heavy song from the stereo being cut off without warning.

“These look nice on you, Eddie.”

The voice sounding from behind him was sweet and horribly familiar.

It was his best friend’s voice—yours.

Time stood still for him at that moment, your words ringing loudly in his ears as he was rooted in front of his mirror, every muscle in his body tensing up.

This was it. This was how he would lose his best friend, the person that meant the world to him, forever. And he had no one to blame but himself.

The reality of it came crashing down on him, time mercilessly picking up speed again, and he couldn’t do anything to stop the broken sob that tore through his body, the first tears falling freely from his eyes.

He lowered his head in shame and waited for the inevitable, for you to scream at him in disgust, or laugh at him, or storm out of his trailer and life, breaking his heart, breaking him in the process. What he didn’t anticipate was the gentle touch of your hand on his naked shoulder, not having noticed your soft steps coming closer to him, and it startled him to his very core.

“It’s okay, Eddie. Don’t cry.”

He shook his head defiantly, his messy hair following the movement frantically, his eyes screwed shut now but the tears still wouldn’t stop staining his cheeks. How could you say something like this, your voice completely calm, soothing even, when you had just found out what an absolute freak you had been friends with, stealing your panties and now wearing them, not to mention all the things you didn’t know about. This was anything but okay!

“It is, I promise it is.”

Standing directly behind him, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders before rubbing up and down his arms, grounding and comforting him while he fought to regain even the semblance of composure, his body still shaking with sobs.

Why were you like this? Always so kind and understanding of him, never judging him for anything. But this was just too much now. He couldn’t stand your unwavering patience with him at this moment, it confused him and made him hate himself even more. He wanted you to yell at him, hit him even for what he had done. He didn’t deserve your kindness, didn’t deserve you, but still you stayed by his side, forever persistent in your affection for him.

Without warning your arms wrapped around his middle, warm fingers caressing his naked stomach, tickling him just slightly, before you pressed a kiss right to his spine and rested your head between his shoulder blades, your whole body now leaning against his.

Eddie let it happen, let your gentle presence calm him down enough so he finally felt like he could breathe again, his sobs quieting down and shoulders relaxing.

“That’s it, just like that, Eddie. No need to cry,” you encouraged him, your voice impossibly soft and for a moment he allowed himself to believe that he hadn’t scared you away yet.

He straightened up when you eventually let go of him, already missing your warmth against him and forced himself to open his eyes, timidly meeting yours in the mirror.

To you, he had never looked more beautiful than in this very moment, his big brown eyes still shining with unshed tears, gazing shyly at you from under his long lashes which clung together in damp little triangles, the bashful look on his face accentuated by the nice shade of pink of his cheeks, matching the only article of clothing on his body at the moment—the pair of your own lacy underwear.

“Look at you,” you cooed, gathering his messy curls and letting all of them fall over one shoulder, your eyes never leaving his in the reflection. “Looking so pretty in these cute little panties.”

Eddie’s breathing hitched delightfully at your words, and you even got rewarded with a surprised little moan from him when your soft lips connected to his now exposed neck, kissing your way up to his jaw, only just resisting the sweet temptation of completely marking him up as yours for all the world to see—or all of Hawkins at least.

“R-really? You think I’m pretty with them on?”

His voice was stained with the effort of forming a coherent sentence while you were still focusing on his neck, now torturing him with gentle bites along his sensitive skin.

You hummed in affirmation and pressed one final kiss to the spot behind his ear before placing your hands on his hips, your fingertips sneaking underneath the waistband of the panties.

“Yeah, you look so beautiful in them. You like wearing them?”

You already knew the answer to your question, but you wanted to hear him say it out loud. In the mirror you could clearly see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, preparing himself for his next words, his pretty eyes fixed on the ground while answering you in a small voice.

“Yes, I really like wearing your panties.”

Immediately, your mouth was on his neck again, mumbling against his skin.

“Such a fucking pervert, Eddie.”

You sucked harshly on one spot, intent on leaving a mark now, relishing in the pathetic whimper that slipped past his lips.

“But don’t worry,” you continued, admiring the perfect hickey that blossomed on his skin, already thinking about all the other places of his body you wanted to decorate with your adoration for this boy who was completely at your mercy. “I really like you wearing my panties as well. Guess I’m just a pervert like you.”

Brown eyes met yours in the reflection again, his persistent confusion and insecurities clearly visible in them. Still not able to believe that you were completely sincere, still scared of losing you when the only thing you could think about was finally finishing school and getting out of Hawkins with Eddie—and all the fun you would be having together.

“Let me show you,” you whispered into his ear, voice low and seductive, “how much I mean it.”

Without breaking eye contact with Eddie in the mirror, your dominant hand reached further down the lacy panties, wrapping your fingers around his growing erection, already half-hard because of all the previous attention you had paid him, and giving him a couple of experimental strokes, your grip light and teasing.

A surprised moan spilled past Eddie’s lips, his eyes wide in amazement as he watched your hand move up and down his length underneath the pink lace, his hips involuntarily chasing the sensation, wanting—needing more, but suddenly you stopped, just holding his now fully erect cock. You giggled at the needy noise he made, the sweet sound alluring but frustrating to his ears.

“Is this okay for you, Eddie?” you asked him with a gentle smile on your lips, not meaning to string him along at all although it certainly did feel like it to him.

Eddie nodded quickly, too impatient for words, his pink tongue poking out to trace his bottom lip, eager to take whatever you were willing to give him and to do whatever you asked of him for it.

“I need you to use your words, can you do that for me?”

Your other hand held his hips in place, calmly waiting for his answer which came out in a desperate rush of words.

“Yes—yes it’s okay. Feels so good.”

He groaned in delight when your fingers tightened around his arching cock and you started stroking him again, setting a slow but steady pace which he was grateful for, wanting to savor this as long as he’d last—which wouldn’t be very long with the way you were touching him, your body pressed against his back, both of you watching your shared reflection breathlessly.

“Such a good boy, listening to me so well,” you praised Eddie, not quite having anticipated the effect your words would have on him, the shuddering breath he took, the stuttering of his hips, his pupils dilating even further, swallowing his brown irises almost completely.

You couldn’t help but smirk widely at his reaction, even more enamored with your best friend than you had been before which you had thought impossible until this moment, excited to learn all the things he liked and help him discover even more things that turned him on.

You continued to stroke his dick, keeping up the leisurely rhythm you had set, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head, spreading the precum gathering there along his length. Entranced, you listened to every little sound you drew from Eddie with just your hand, every breathy moan and sweet whimper, every groan at the flick of your wrist, amused at how hard he tried to keep his voice down but failing adorably at it. The fingers of your unoccupied hand began to trace along the elastic waistband of your panties and, without warning, let it snap back against his skin with a satisfying sound, Eddie’s breath hitching in his throat at the sudden bite the elastic left behind.

“Tell me what you usually do with my panties,” you said to him, your voice light and teasing. “Just wearing them and being all pretty?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in concentration, struggling to form a coherent sentence when your hand was still gliding up and down his erection, too occupied with drowning in the pleasure you were giving him to answer you immediately.

“No, I—”

His ears and cheeks turned a darker shade of red when he thought about what he was about to confess, still worried about your reaction, worried that somehow, even after all you had said and done until now, this would be your breaking point, suddenly realizing that Eddie was too much for you after all.

“You can tell me, don’t worry, baby. I won’t be mad,” you promised him with a kind smile, kissing his burning cheek for emphasis. He swallowed thickly, his wide eyes fixed on your face in the mirror before gathering the courage to speak.

“No, I’ve never worn them before, but I—I’ve used them to jerk off with.”

A wide grin danced across your face which he chose to interpret as a good sign, trying his hardest to stay focused on your words and not only buck his hips mindlessly into the motion of your hand.

“And coming all over them, soaking them with your cum?” you nonchalantly added, the mental image of your own words making for a very appealing picture. You were all the more surprised at how vigorously Eddie shook his head, looking absolutely mortified by your suggestion.

“No, never!” he assured you hastily, brown eyes pleading in the reflection for you to believe him. “These are yours—I wouldn’t get something of yours dirty just because I’m such a pervert!”

The vehemence of his words was incredibly endearing to you and a soft chuckle pushed past your lips, nuzzling into the crook of his neck to muffle the noise.

“Such a sweet and considerate boy, Eddie,” you whispered into his ear, feeling him shudder against you. “But I don’t mind if you get them dirty. I want you to, want to see it.”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, still not used to the way you were talking to him at this moment, stuttering out a stunned reply.

“O-okay.”

He felt like a complete idiot, screwing his eyes shut in embarrassment and squirming in your hold, torn between the blissful state you were trapping him in with your soft hands and lips and sinful words, and being overwhelmed by this surreal situation. His best friend, the girl he had a crush on for longer than he could actually remember, currently had her hand wrapped around his dick, bringing him closer and closer to his second orgasm this night after catching him wearing only her pink lacy panties that he had stolen from her and had masturbated with every night since, leaving red and purple marks along his neck, whispering things into his ear that made even a pervert like him blush.

It was better than any fantasy he had ever had while getting himself off, and as unthinkable as all of this was—it was real.

He let himself get lost further in this paralyzing kind of pleasure, feeling his thighs shake and his stomach starting to tense when a soft moan reached his ears, blinking his eyes open and watching your reflection in the mirror with a dazed expression on his face. Your eyes were blown wide and your breathing heavy while you were solely focused on your hand stroking his cock, still partly covered by the pink lace which was now stained with his precum.

Eddie couldn’t tear his gaze away from this sight of you, how beautiful you looked at this moment, clearly enjoying all of it just as much as he did.

And only then did he fully understand that this popular girl, his best friend in this sorry excuse for a town, with her cute little skirts and sweet smiles, really did like him wearing her panties and having her hand firmly wrapped around his cock.

That you really were a freak just like him.

“What are you grinning about, pretty boy?”

Your voice startled him and he sheepishly met your eyes in the reflection again, his grin not faltering but growing even bigger at your affectionate expression, finally giving himself completely to you, not trying to keep his moans and whines quiet anymore, the feeling of shame and embarrassment he had hid behind vanishing all at once.

“You actually really like this.”

He sounded breathless, completely dumbstruck by what had been right in front of him this entire time, his voice strained with the effort of speaking when his hazy mind wanted nothing more than to reach this familiar edge you were steadily bringing him closer to and letting himself fall, knowing that you would be there to catch him.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time,” you said with a soft laugh, your tone gentle and sincere. “I like it. And I like you, Eddie. Have liked you for some time now.”

Eddie had to swallow around all the emotions welling up inside his chest and constricting his throat, and his vision started to blur again.

“I like you, too,” he then choked out, followed by a deep groan when you suddenly quickened the pace of your hand, your own pulse ringing in your ears, needing to finally see him come undone by your hand. He cursed under his breath, sweet moans spilling from his lips and his knees only moments away from giving out under him.

“I won’t—last much longer.”

His warning only encouraged you further, your lips pressed to his ear now, messy curls tickling your soft skin while your hand moved faster and faster, his hips now bucking into your fist carelessly and without rhythm.

“It’s okay, you can come. Come for me, Eddie.”

This was what it took for him to trip over the edge, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy and a loud moan tumbling from his lips while you helped him through his orgasm, his release coating your fingers and soaking the delicate fabric of the panties. You only stopped when his hoarse voice begged you to, letting go of his sensitive and now softened cock while your other hand held onto his hip for support.

You peppered his already bruised neck with tender kisses but all your attention was really only on the mess Eddie had of your hand, completely covered in his cum.

“Look at that,” you grinned, lifting up your hand and spreading your sticky fingers in amazement. “Be a good boy and help me clean up, yeah?”

You watched Eddie’s focus shift from your image in the mirror to the shameless display in front of him, almost going cross-eyed when your fingertips came up to touch his lips, opening them obediently. His tongue licked at your fingers experimentally, groaning in delight when he tasted his own release on your skin before he suddenly took hold of your wrist with his own hand, eagerly sucking two of your fingers into his mouth. He hummed around them in contentment, taking his time with cleaning you up, and only let go of you when your hand was spotless again.

“Good boy,” you whispered, watching another blush rise to his cheeks when you came to stand in front of him, his big brown eyes slightly unfocused and flickering between your eyes and your lips, unsure about what he was allowed to do now, unsure about what this significant change of your relationship really meant for the two of you.

You impatiently took pity on him, for your sake as much as for his, tangling one hand in his unruly curls and pulling him close, your lips meeting his in a desperate and passionate kiss. You swallowed Eddie’s whine when your tongue slipped inside his mouth, feeling his thundering heartbeat resonate in your own chest as your bodies melted against each other, a trembling hand resting on your waist and the other one sweetly cupping your face, his metal rings cool against your heated skin.

Too quickly you had to pull away again to catch your breath, huffing out an affectionate laugh when Eddie immediately swayed forward, eyes still closed, chasing the feeling of your soft lips against his chapped ones. You kissed him again, slowly and sweetly this time, getting lost in the sensation until he drew back, simply resting his forehead against yours, your breath mingling between your faces.

“You okay, baby?” you asked him quietly, not wanting to disturb the comforting calm that had settled in Eddie’s room, wrapping around the two of you like a soft blanket. He nodded faintly in reply, a sudden yawn overcoming him and you couldn’t help but chuckle in sympathy, your heart growing double in size at how adorable he looked at this moment.

“Let’s get you to bed, hm? We can cuddle a bit and then go to sleep, how’s that sound?”

You tucked some wayward strands of hair behind his ear and leaned forward to peck his nose, earning yourself a sleepy but happy smile and another nod, his still unfocused gaze wandering from your face to where you had taken his hand and interlaced your fingers, gently pulling him with you towards his bed. He followed you on unsteady legs, sitting down on the edge of his mattress when you told him to, sad puppy eyes looking up at you pitifully from under his lashes as you moved out of his embrace, his arms still reaching out for you.

You shook your head at him when you wanted nothing more than to hold him close and not let him go again until the first rays of sunlight would fall through the broken blinds of his room, instead going over to his closet and searching for some clean and comfortable clothes for him to wear, taking an old band shirt and a pair of dark sweatpants back to him. You helped him out of the now soiled pink panties, pressing a kiss to his temple when a big grin spread across his face at the sight of them but not being able to meet your eyes and throwing your underwear to the pile of his dirty clothes on the bedroom floor, fantasizing about all the other fun things you wanted to try and experience with Eddie.

But all of that had to wait for another time, Eddie’s tired expression pulling at your heartstrings, his eyes only moments away from falling closed. He obediently raised his arms above his head when you helped him slide on the shirt you had picked out, stealing another kiss from him as you freed his long hair that was still trapped under the collar.

He slowly put on the pair of sweatpants while you went over to his bedroom door and closed it. When you returned to him, Eddie had already slipped under his covers and held them up for you, but wordlessly demanding a kiss from you which you generously granted him before making more room for you. You quickly turned off the lamp on his bedside table, only the soft orange glow of the streetlight outside of the trailer illuminating the room now, before getting comfortable next to him. You turned towards him and he mirrored you, the bedsprings creaking slightly at the movements, your hand coming up to caress his cheek with your thumb. Eddie hummed happily at your innocent touch, leaning further into it and placing his own hand over yours.

The two of you stayed like this for a few more moments, enjoying this simple contact between you before Eddie’s arms sneaked around your body and pulled you close, his face hiding in the crook of your neck and his long hair tickling your skin. You closed your eyes with a sigh of contentment that quickly turned into a surprised giggle when Eddie’s lips ghosted up and down your sensitive neck, ending their attack with a kiss to the spot just behind your ear, making you shudder in delight.

“Sorry,” Eddie laughed quietly, his speech slightly slurred from how hard he tried to fight off sleep, not wanting to let this intimate moment between the two of you end just yet. “Couldn’t help myself. It’s just—I’m so happy right now.”

“Me too,” you whispered and pulled back from him just enough to meet his eyes in the orange-tinted darkness, a smirk forming on your lips. “And I’m also glad I had the brilliant idea of coming by tonight.”

Eddie, of course, was more than inclined to agree with you on this, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips.

“Me too.”

The lovestruck smile on his face quickly turned into a big yawn, his eyes finally falling closed and remaining like this when one of your hands began to stroke up and down his back, his whole body relaxing against yours and his breathing beginning to even out. Just when you thought Eddie had fallen asleep in your arms, you on the verge of surrendering to the sweet temptation of sleep yourself, he mumbled something into your ear, the words causing a smug smile to spread on your lips.

“Can we do that again?”

“Of course, Eddie. We’re going to have so much fun together from now on, I promise.”

Rays of bright morning sunlight illuminated his room, shining through the broken blinds in front of the window and falling on you and Eddie cuddling on his bed. He was lying on his back, his head comfortably resting on his pillow while you were lazily draped over him, your lips tracing their way up and down his neck with little kisses, paying special attention to all the marks you had left the night before. The sensation sent a pleasant shiver down his spine and he hummed happily, feeling you smile against his skin before continuing with your delightful torture.

Even in the morning light, Eddie had a hard time believing any of this was real, the memories of the previous night playing again and again in his mind, a tiny part of him still not entirely convinced that all of it hadn’t just been a very detailed and realistic dream he had yet to wake up from. He couldn’t help but wonder what colossal thing he had done right in his life to deserve waking up next to you, being greeted by your beautiful face and sleepy smile when you had opened your eyes, and now your weight on top of him and all your kisses laced with the sweetest affection for him.

He kissed the crown of your head, one hand caressing the expanse of your back before hesitantly placing it on your thigh, his large palm warm against your naked skin, calloused fingers playing nervously with the hem of the short skirt you had worn since yesterday. When you didn’t protest his touch Eddie got a little braver, his hand slowly sneaking underneath the fabric, giddy excitement cursing through him and a boyish grin forming on his lips. He was thinking about gently squeezing your soft flesh when he suddenly stopped moving his hand, just lying on your bare ass, and you could feel his body tensing up beneath you.

You giggled quietly against his neck, wiggling your hips teasingly while you waited for Eddie to find his voice.

“Are you… wearing any underwear?”

“Nope,” you grinned, popping the ‘p’ playfully. “I wanted to surprise you yesterday and see what would happen when you noticed. But you kinda beat me to it.”

Eddie threw his head back and groaned in disbelief, lightly pinching your ass when you laughed, the sound of it rousing the butterflies in his stomach that he had tried and failed to ignore for years until yesterday night.

“God, you’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

You pushed yourself off his chest slightly, just so you could meet his brown eyes for a moment before kissing him filthily, grinding your hips against him at the same time.

“Oh, I’m planning on it, baby.”

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alphabetboyluvr · 2 months

Note

I read your work on Wattpad and I totally love you, but what I don’t like is the way you focus on read to vote ratios. You are literally the only author I know (and I follow hundreds of authors, some that could rival you) and you are the only one that cares about read to vote ratios.

I think it’s something you shouldn’t worry about because the read count isn’t even accurate because it also includes when the author reads the chapter themselves even while editing.

I know votes are important to authors, but to most readers (because I’ve asked some friends I’ve made on Wattpad) we don’t even look at how many votes a book has to make us want to read the story. We look at the description and how many views it’s gotten, not the votes, because we know votes aren’t a good representation of how good a book is because people can forget to vote or just don’t give out votes no matter how good the story is.

Your books have millions of views (regardless if some are proper views or not) and your books are always out there and they get discovered, and I think you’re a bit greedy with asking for votes- especially when you do those god awful vote goals in order to get a chapter out.

I’ve seen other authors do vote goals, and it makes me want to do the total opposite and not vote because you should be writing and releasing chapters for the fun of it because you like writing and want to update, not for the votes.

I love you and your writing, but I’d say the whole voting ratio thing is a flawed concern and does leave a few readers bitter with you. I know you probably don’t care, but I just had to say it as I saw your insta where you mentioned the vote ratio and it irked me coz like I said, you’re the only author that cares about it when you shouldn’t worry about it considering your thousands of followers and your millions of views

okay, a lot to discuss with this one!

so, firstly thank you for sharing your thoughts - discussion is always welcome, even if we have different views on the subject! and thank you for the kind words about my work, too!!

i will just say that pretty much all the fic writers i know on a personal level do, to some extent, care about the engagement on their stories. whether it be wattpad, tumblr or ao3, engagement is hugely appreciated for a number of reasons.

i know of a good handful of writers, large and small, who use vote goals - even if they don't outwardly state it, they care about the ratio. they wouldn't do the goal if not. that's what it's for.

i think it's also important to note that i don't do vote goals anymore and haven't done for quite some time. i tried them for a while, didn't like them, no longer do them - because i agree that they felt insincere and icky.

i don't hold my chapters to ransom - i think there's one instance in my 11 (!!) years on wattpad, and 5 years of writing for the tannies that I've delayed an update because a vote goal hadn't been met.

but like you say, views aren't an accurate way of measuring engagement. votes are.

to me, a vote is a considered effort that readers will make to say 'yeah, i liked this', without needing to comment or interact on a big level. asking for people who read hours worth of your hard work for free to simply press a little star at the end of a chapter isn't a greedy ask, in my opinion.

so why do i care about the ratio?

because when i used to look for stories as a reader, it was something i glanced at to see if the views aligned with the quality. a good ratio indicates good writing. it's as simple as that.

on a personal level - i don't actually care. it's not like i sit up at night thinking about it, or obsessively check my stats. i post chapters, read the comments, and that's about it. the vote ratio can be seen at a glance, and even though I'm bad at maths, it's an easy thing to compute lol.

this is the back end of bad decisions. none of the numbers make any sense, really. i'd go mad if i tried to figure it all out. so please don't think I'm sitting here obsessing over the numbers, because I'm not. i wouldn't be able to write if i was.

what i do care about is what you guys think of me. of course i care. i like to think i have a pretty good relationship with my readers, and so it does suck to know that something like this, which you agree is trivial, is enough to make you bitter with me.

i consider myself very lucky when it comes to my readers, but I've also worked damn hard to cultivate my readership. those millions of reads didn't come about just by chance.

it's kind of insulting when you see how much work i put in and know how much i love writing these stories to then be told that i only care about votes. bd alone is the length of 4 standard-sized novels, published for free, written on my own time. you don't do that if you don't write for enjoyment.

so if you think I'm being greedy - when we both know in the grand scheme of things votes mean nothing and will earn me nothing more than a metaphorical pat on the back - then fine, but it's not like you aren't getting fed, either.

vote, or don't vote. it's all just pixels on a screen, at the end of the day.

but please don't insinuate i don't care about my stories.

#ask #some thoughts!#im also a capricorn so to expect me not to care about outward measures of success is like trying to get blood from a stone #you'll never see me mention kudos #or notes #i really don't care #votes on wattpad are my one vice #im only human

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magnumpihq · 1 year

Text

Ratings and articles about ratings.

Here’s a longer guide to ratings, what they mean and why we shouldn’t panic about them as well as the articles.

During the save campaign a media outlet has reported that renewal will come down to ratings and Magnum P.I. gathering new viewers and better ratings. That statement is a bid of a double-edged sword.

The show has gathered new viewers, mainly seen on social media as new friends slide into the new warm and fuzzy blanket that is the comfort show called Magnum P.I. We also left some viewers behind on CBS, which is perfectly natural. CBS is known to be a ratings giant, in large part to the general audience CBS gathers that simply turns CBS on no matter what is on. Think background music that consist of explosions and gunshots. These viewers are the ones we haven’t managed to bring over to NBC and we weren’t going to be able to bring them over anyway.

But let’s look at some things in more detail.

What are ratings?

Ratings are a measuring system, by which networks gage the audiences interest in their shows. Based on ratings advertisers also decide what ads to place and potentially how much they pay for it, which is income for the networks. The sales demographic (18-49) is specifically interesting to those. Networks as well as the companies have access to far more data than the simple sales

Are our ratings bad?

Simply said, no. For a Sunday show on NBC in our timeslot our ratings are solid. Even the recent ‘drop’ in numbers is just a reflection of the competition currently on. Sundays are some of the weaker days in terms of ratings. At the moment Sundays generally don’t gather stellar ratings across the board. Every show and network suffers from this downturn (Hello streamer competition, anyone?)

Why did we suffer a drop in ratings in the recent weeks?

Simply said: Competition and natural viewing behavior.

March Madness is an event people watch live (as are Oscars, but March Madness much more so). These people record their shows instead of missing the game. March Madness also consistently ran overtime a little. People don’t just switch to other channels to catch half an episode. If they haven’t set a recording they will watch on Peacock.

It’s also somewhat natural for shows to lose a few viewers along the way. The reasons are as many as you can possibly imagine. Some lose interest, some have a different working schedule, lose access to NBC, aren’t in the right mindset to watch, have to go to the hospital, stubbed their toe, die (yeah, people annoyingly do that in which case their rating isn’t counted).

Where is everyone who saved the show and why aren’t they watching?

It’s a frequent complain and one that is perhaps the most stinging to the fans that have become active to try and save the show. It’s also an unfair question. A little over 14000 people signed the petition, only a fraction of those have donated to the fund, a handful have organized initiatives (billboard, anyone). You will have to subtract international viewers here, who have made up a large portion of that number. As you can see those specific fans are around – if they can. The international fans have no way of contributing to ratings other than social media engagement.

What ratings do we need to get renewed?

Impossible for us to tell. Ratings are only one factor in a large grid of data that NBC has access to and we don’t. We like having control, I know, but in this case we don’t have any.

Data we don’t have but that factors into renewal decisions:

Production cost (including rent for stages, compensation for cast, crew and so on)

How much money the ads actually make

How much money product placement in the show brings in

Number of people streaming

Contract requirements for the ads

Social media engagement (beyond the cold numbers) and the value they put into it

Projected ratings and expectations

To make it simple: A show that has high production cost and high ratings can still be canceled if the income the show brings doesn’t match the cost of producing it. Shows with lower ratings can still be renewed if there’s a solid profit.

Why do ratings look so different on a Sunday than a Friday?

Viewer behavior and circumstance. Friday is the beginning of the weekend, a lot more people have time to just kick back and watch TV, whereas Sundays people prepare for the new work week, maybe go to bed early. The reasons are endless, but it comes down to this: Sunday ratings and Friday ratings are wildly different overall. More people watch Friday in general, so our numbers would be higher there, too, but our Sunday ratings do reflect the higher ratings we would have on a Friday, translated to the circumstances on a Sunday.

We would have better ratings on a Friday, why doesn’t NBC put us back on a Friday?

It comes back to the data we don’t have. Yes, we performed well on a Friday, but NBC has analysts who thought it would be most beneficial to have Magnum P.I. on a Sunday. They had a reason to put it there. Also we would have likely experienced a rating drop on Fridays, too. Mainly because, as pointed out, the people who habitually watch CBS, wouldn’t watch NBC now.

CBS has a much higher rating than we do. Should we be worried?

No. NBC won’t make renewal decisions based on what CBS does. NBC makes decisions based on how their own shows do. Ultimately the shows that bring (and are projected to continue to bring) good profit, not ratings, are likely the ones that will be renewed. So don’t look to other networks, we’re not in direct competition with them for a timeslot at NBC, we’re in competition with other NBC shows. And among them we’re far from the worst performer. (And again, we have very little data in order to gage profitability)

Why are articles reporting so negatively about the shows ratings?

It’s simple journalism. Similar to shows, articles have a bit of a rating system behind them: Clicks. Highly clicked articles = more income.

Now as yourself which headline are you more likely to click and which article are you more likely to read through:

Magnum P.I. plummets to a new all-time low.

Magnum P.I. has 0.5mil viewers less this week than last week.

You’re more likely to click the first one, because it tickles your emotions, in this case in a negative way. The same way the content does. This type of language grabs you more, which increases click rates and the chance that you read the entire thing through, which is what they want.

Ultimately they pick the language to manipulate you into a reaction, not because it reflects their opinion or the meaning of the ratings. The content is the same, though: The ratings dropped.

Matt, who almost writes daily articles about Magnum P.I., is a great example for it. I am sure we all remember when he had headlines during the save announcing statements by a star of the show only to click the article and realize it was just talking about a recent social media post by a cast member which we had already seen. The objective here is, like with every other website: Gather clicks. In this case by tickling your curiosity. It’s nothing more, nothing less.

The reason why the articles sound negative is simply to get you to react. They in no way reflect NBCs opinions, nor are they able to tap into more data than we do, which is the ratings. All they have is a bit of experience with previous shows, but when it comes down to that, they consistently point out that Mangum P.I.s ratings are a win for NBCs Sunday line-up.

Why aren’t streaming numbers released?

Internal decision, but maybe this quiets your mind: Procedurals like Magnum P.I. are known to have great streaming numbers. They’re one of the best performing genres on streaming platforms. One of the reasons for that is how easy one can get into the plot at any point due to the stories contained within an episode. Magnum P.I. and all the other procedurals are a show where you can watch an episode without context of previous seasons and still enjoy it due to the mystery of the day. From there maybe the serialized aspect makes viewers go back. Or they continue to watch. But our streaming numbers could very well be good.

Does the drop mean it looks bad for renewal?

No. Right now what you want to look at is context: Magnum P.I. brought NBC the strongest Sunday ratings in years. Our decline is happening within the context of a sport event/natural decline and NBC will have expected it. Other than that our ratings are stable.

We also consistently adjust upward from the preliminary ratings we get on a Monday to the final ones we get the week after. That means something.

Ultimately we will not be able to judge our renewal chances on the ratings alone, due to the multitude of factors (and there could be more) I already mentioned.

There is no point in getting overly worried about ratings. We can’t control them! No matter how much we want to.

What we can control is this: If we can watch it and have our view counted, do. Engaged with the official accounts on social media and enjoy the show. There’s really nothing more we can do.

#magnum pi #ratings

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brighteststar707 · 2 years

Note

It was very difficult to choose :") but I narrowed it down to 3!

-Being spun into a kiss

-Kisses for distraction

-Stealing a kiss even if you risk getting caught

Please write any of these you like for Saeyoung!

I'm really happy you have some time now, for yourself and your hobbies! Do take care of yourself and take your time writing <33

Hi! Thank you for the request and your sweet message! You're always so kind <3

I'll be honest, I saw Stealing a kiss even if you risk getting caught and kind of ran with it 😅, so here's that!

Saeyoung - Stealing a kiss even if you risk getting caught

On the drive over to the C&R building, Saeyoung is impatient. He keeps meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He’s waiting for something, and you have a feeling you’re about to find out what that is soon enough.

He parks in the spot Jumin has reserved for him, and Saeran is the first out of the car. He stands close by, waiting for you both to get out of the car to enter with him.

It was Jumin’s idea to start holding monthly party planning meetings, after the success of your first party. He had Jaehee free up a slot in their schedules and set up a room at C&R for you all to meet at.

Despite Zen’s initial complaints, you all grew to enjoy the meetings. It was a rare opportunity for you all to come together and discuss any new ideas. You suspected it was also a good way for Jumin to keep an eye on all the members, to make sure that nobody was struggling without him noticing.

The three of you walk into the air-conditioned lobby, show the receptionist your RFA cards (curtesy of Saeyoung – a new security measure), and make your way towards the lifts.

Yoosung slips through the doors just before they close, out of breath. He cheerfully greets the three of you and quickly falls into conversation with Saeran.

When the doors open, they leave first, quickly falling into step with each other. You start to follow behind them, but Saeyoung slips his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers and pulling you back towards him.

You turn to him to see what’s stopping him, and he flashes you a playful smile that you recognize all too well.

“Take a quick detour with me?”

“Saeyoung, the meeting is about to start,”

“They won’t miss us for a few minutes…”

“I’m the party planner,” you try to reason, though you know you sound half-hearted. You can’t deny him when he’s like this, wide eyed and pleading.

“Please?” He knows he has already won.

“Fine.”

He cheers and pulls you with him down the hall, the opposite way of the meeting room.

“So, where are we going?”

“I’ve been looking for good hiding places at C&R for a while,” he says. He’s counting the doors as you walk, so you’re sure he’s looking for something specific. It wouldn’t surprise you if he had the layout of the building memorized.

“And what would you need a hiding spot for?”

“Well… I’d rather show you… past the vending machine and…here!”

He tries the door to your left and to his delight, it opens without issue. He looks up and down the hall to make sure nobody’s watching, then pulls you into the room with him. It’s dark, but judging by the size, he has found a supply closet.

His hands find your shoulders, trace your neck up your jaw, and pull you closer to him.

He has found you a closet to make out in.

You want to laugh, tease him for getting you to sneak around like teenagers, but then his lips crash into yours and you’re suddenly very thankful for his little detour. He presses you against the door, tangles his fingers in your hair, and you’re lost.

You’re pulled back to reality by the sound of voices coming down the hall, chatting animatedly.

Saeyoung puts his fingers to your lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. They’re close enough to hear you through the door.

“ – you lend me some cash for the vending machine, Zen? I promise I’ll pay you back!”

“You always say that. Anyway, you shouldn’t eat those snacks, they’re bad for you.”

Yoosung huffs dejectedly and Saeyoung chuckles softly under his breath.

Despite them being so close, he doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he dips his head down and peppers your neck with feather-light kisses, daring you to make a sound. The others outside only spur him on, you think. The suspense of getting caught (as if your friends haven’t caught you countless times), you holding your breath and his fingertips digging into your skin are all part of the game.

#kissing the rfa #mystic messenger #mystic messenger saeyoung #mysme saeyoung #saeyoung choi #mystic messenger saeyoung choi #mysme luciel #luciel choi #mysme seven #707 #my writing

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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

Text

just friends

word count: 5,393

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

warnings: literally all fluff. maybe some swearing lol

a/n: this literally was supposed to be a short fluffy drabble and turned into a full on fic haha. I wrote a lot of this while I was half asleep so please excuse any spelling mistakes haha. I hope you guys like it! 💕 gif below isn’t mind, creds to the original creator!

haikyuu masterlist

Your window was only open slightly, meant for allowing the cool air to flow in, while also aiding for a certain somebody’s quick escape if it came down to that.

The Fukurōdani Academy Group Summer Camp started tomorrow. Well. Today, if you count the fact that it was already 2AM.

It had originally been 11PM. 3 hours ago, Akaashi Keiji had crawled up the side of your house and tapped his knuckles ever so softly on your window. It had freaked you out for a second until he texted you “Lemme in”, to which you then moved to the window to greet him with a confused look.

“Akaashi, if my parents hear you-” you started, glancing over your shoulder and hoping they hadn’t somehow managed to get to your bedroom door without you noticing.

“Then stay quiet and help me in,” he shrugged, slowly plopping into your room and smiling down at you. “How’s your evening?”

You just stared at him, “Akaashi, it’s late!” You hissed as he crawled into your bed and got comfortable like he was meant to be there. “What’re you doing awake anyways? Don’t you have to be up early for your training camp?”

Akaashi just gave a hum and a nod, patting the other side of the bed he wasn’t currently occupying and giving you a smile. You rolled your eyes and tucked yourself in next to him. It didn’t matter that the two of you were slightly squished, if anything your bed actually felt comfier this way.

Without any more questions, you and Akaashi laid there for hours, whispering as the time ticked by. Your legs slowly tangled together under the sheets and you fit in his side as if you were made to be there.

“What’re you thinking about?” Akaashi asked suddenly, his voice coated with fatigue, eyes lazily opening to look over at you and your pensive expression. It had been so long between topics, you had actually started to think he had fallen asleep.

“What do you mean?” You smiled back at him, your fingers still tracing along the lines on his palm like you had been for the past 10 minutes.

“You’re too quiet to be not thinking. And you’re obviously not sleeping. So what’re you thinking about?” Akaashi explained, interlacing your hands together for a moment. Just to see how they fit.

“Why did you come?” You questioned after a moment, turning to really look him in the eyes this time. Akaashi had such a soft demeanour about him tonight, a gentleness that you hardly ever saw when he and Bokuto were getting up to their usual mischief. But he was always kind and sweet to you, always took a moment of his day to tuck your hair behind your ear, or pluck a piece of fluff off your shoulder. Always put his plans on pause to ask you about your day, texted you about life and school and plans for the future.

His future included nationals. Playing in front of crowds and cameras, screaming fans and loud cheers. His future included volleyball. But you always wondered if there was room for you in that future too.

Akaashi paused, watching your eyes and for a moment, you could’ve sworn he had looked at your lips, a flicker of something different crossing his eyes. “I needed to see you.”

He said it so casually. As if this was normal. As if it was normal for a guy to crawl into a girl’s bedroom and lay in her bed like they were already married.

“I see you practically every day when we’re at school,” you pointed out, brushing a piece of hair from his eyes and trying to determine what he was really thinking because lord knows you could never tell.

Akaashi just stared some more at you, eyes slowly blinking from exhaustion. “I’ll be busy the next few weeks. With volleyball. And I know you’ve got plans for the summer too. I just... wanted to see you before I got all busy. I wanted to just be here with you and pretend like i could come back here.”

“You could,” you added quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, because then he looked at you with surprise. “I like it when you come by,” you admitted to him quietly, sitting up slightly in your bed. “I’m going to miss you while you’re all busy this summer.”

“I can make time,” Akaashi said hurriedly, his teeth tugging on his lips as he sat up with you. “For you. I can make time.”

You look at him with a smile, his thumb grazing over your hand again as he interlaced your fingers together once more. The two of you sat there, both wanting to ask the hovering question that sat buried in your throats.

What are we?

We’re friends, you’d always insist to your friends.

But friends don’t come crawling into your room at the middle of the night to hold you and hold your hand.

We’re just friends, Akaashi had told the team before with flushed cheeks.

But no friend of Akaashi’s had ever made him so nervous, Bokuto pointed out. And friends don’t stare at each other across the room the way you two do.

What are we?

“You should go,” you pointed out as you felt the tensions rising, glancing at the clock. It was almost 3:30AM now. Maybe it was sleep exhaustion or maybe you were just tired of never knowing what you were to Akaashi, but you knew if you didn’t get him out of your room now, you might end up spilling your guts to him.

Had she felt me try to get the courage to confess? Akaashi wondered as he gathered his things, moving to leave from the window again. But not before he wrapped you up into another hug, pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Do friends give forehead kisses?

“I’ll miss you,” he stated as he started to climb out the window.

“It’s not like you’re going across the world,” you teased with an awkward sort of laugh. “I’ll come see you guys maybe. When you’re not too busy.”

It could’ve been your imagination, but he seemed to lighten up at this idea. He nodded and pulled his backpack off for a moment to pull a hoodie from it. “To keep you warm when I’m not around,” he told you as he handed it to you. So casual. Like this was just something friends do.

“T-Thanks,” you tried to hide your smile, tried to hide the fact that you wanted to squeal out like a little girl. You held onto the hoodie as he gave you another little wave and crawled out of your house. You held it tighter as he landed on the ground, looking up at you and smiling at you like you were his romantic interest.

Do friends look at each other like that?

When he disappeared from view, you held the hoodie to your chest, smiling as you smelt his cologne or body wash or whatever the hell it was that made Akaashi smell like Akaashi. You crawled back into bed after closing your window tightly and turning off the lights, still gripping onto the hoodie he had left with you.

Do friends miss each other almost immediately after they’re gone? A few days later and there was Akaashi crawling through your window again. You heard the knock on the glass and found him with a tired smile on his face.

“Are you just going to keep visiting me in the middle of the night?” You asked with a giggle, watching him flop into your bed and open his arms asking you to join him.

“I have to look at sweaty annoying boys all day. What’s wrong with seeing a pretty girl every now and then?” He asked as you crawled in. Do friends say things like that to each other?

“Aw it can’t be all that bad,” you insisted, avoiding his eyes as you tried to wave off the compliment. “Bokuto is rather nice to look at.”

Akaashi huffed a bit, tickling your sides briefly until you reminded him in a harsh whisper that your parents were asleep. “Stop thinking about another boy while I’m here with you,” he stuck his tongue out at you playfully.

“Sorry I’ll stick to thinking about them when you’re not around,” you teased, making him poke at your side some more.

Did friends get jealous that easily?

“Why did you come?” You asked him after a while, tracing soft lines with your finger tips down his cheek and jawline, as if carefully measuring out a masterpiece because that’s exactly what he was. “Is the training camp really that bad?”

“Nah it’s alright. It’s fun getting to play with some new teams. Bokuto gets all excited about showing off his skills,” Akaashi responded softly, his eyes closing slowly as the two of you spoke.

“Aren’t you sore? From all your games?”

“Extremely. I’m not going to feel my legs tomorrow that’s for sure.”

“You shouldn’t have walked all this way then, idiot. You’re going to tire out your legs even more.”

“It’s worth it if I get to see you,” his voice was so quiet you weren’t even sure he actually said it. You looked up at him and found his eyes open again, watching you as if gauging your reaction.

Did friends make you feel like your heart would beat out of your chest? Do friends walk all the way to your house in the middle of the night after exercising all day?

What are we?

You wanted to ask, the words forming at your lips. The question was begging to be answered, pleading at your vocal cords to produce some sort of sound.

But what if you were reading into things?

What if friends really do all the things you wondered about? What if you weren’t exactly friends but weren’t anything more either? What if Akaashi saw you as a placeholder. A warm body to be everything a girlfriend could be until he found someone actually worthy.

What if you really were just friends?

Akaashi left a few moments later, groaning softly as he stretched and giving you another exhausted smile as he insisted he’d be back some other time. He traded sweaters with you, pulling out a brand new one for you from his bag and taking the one he had left earlier.

“I’m okay with this one Akaashi, why are you giving me another?” You asked confusedly.

He shrugged and you could’ve sworn there was a blush on his cheeks, “Just cause.”

He wrapped you up in a hug, pressed another kiss to your forehead and slipped out the window. Then spent the whole walk back shaking his head at himself for not saying what he wanted to say.

“Because I like how my clothes smell like you after you wear them,” he spoke aloud into the quiet night. “Because I wanted a part of me to always be with you. Because I don’t want you thinking about Bokuto, I want you thinking about me. Because I wanted to walk all this way to tell you how I felt and I chickened out again.”

The reasons piled into his head and he angrily kicked at some rocks as he walked. Why was it so much easier to think of why when he walked away?

“Because I want to know what we are,” he whispered to himself, stopping his footsteps and staring at the sky for a moment before walking further from you.

More days passed and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when you didn’t hear from Akaashi as much. He was busy. You were busy. Everyone was busy, you told yourself. It’s not like he forgot about you. Or that he decided to ghost you.

It’s not like he found someone else. It was a volleyball training camp, who could he have found?

You wanted to tell yourself that there wasn’t anyone else and even if there was, it’s not like you had a claim to him anyway. You and Akaashi were just friends.

But you still waited for him every night, looking out the window in hopes he’d come.

Finally you heard a little tap at your window, and there was Akaashi with another tired grin. He seemed like he was glowing more than usual. He seemed bigger, more toned under his jacket.

“I missed you,” you told him shyly and the two of you curled back under the sheets together again.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, pressing his lips briefly against your forehead. “I got all caught up in training and even after the day is gone, everyone still wants to practice. Even that blond boy from Karasuno seems like he’s getting into it.”

You smiled and nodded, thinking about the few texts that Akaashi seemed to get out to you when he wasn’t so busy, “I’m sure everyone’s training hard for Nationals.”

Akaashi nodded and smiled, shifting so he was lying on his back and staring at your ceiling, “It’s getting really close. We got to be the best we can be.”

“You’re already really good. But I know you guys will win it all,” you beamed up at him excitedly. It was one of your favourite things, watching them play. And these National games always came with such excitement.

“Only if you’re there cheering us on,” Akaashi glanced at you, as if he had asked if you were coming and waiting for you to confirm.

“Of course,” you nodded up at him. “I wanna watch my boys beat everyone! Wipe the floor with them!”

Akaashi smirked and held onto you a little tighter, fingers dancing along your skin gently.

Did friends send tingles up your spine when they touched you? Because you hadn’t noticed it with anyone else but him.

“I can’t stay long tonight, love,” he whispered to you softly after an hour of whispered conversations passed. “I told Bokuto I’d wake up early with him and get some more practice.”

You nodded understandingly, though your heart felt a little as he started to move, “After your camp, maybe we can start doing all those summer things you wanted to do. When you’re not practicing of course.”

Akaashi chuckled and nodded, “Sure. Ice cream, find a beach, go swimming, whoop your ass in a water balloon fight,” he listed off.

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder back as you insisted that he was definitely going to lose a water balloon fight.

His hands grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into another hug. This time a bit tighter, like he was scared you were fading away, “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” he murmured to you, pulling away slightly to look down at you. “But I promise I’ll come see you soon.”

Why did everything he say always seemed like something a boyfriend would say? Do friends say things like that?

“I know you’re busy, Akaashi, don’t worry,” you told him with a small shrug, staring at your hands nervously.

“Y/N...”

There was something in his tone... something so foreign. You looked up at him and saw nervousness in his eyes, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your hands.

“Yea?”

Akaashi cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes glancing between yours and your hands.

“I- We...” he started.

What are we?

Three words.

Or maybe he should ask what you wanted you two to be?

Is that too much? Is that too pushy?

What if you didn’t think there needed to be anything more to this relationship? What if he was overthinking it? What if this was just for fun and you really were into Bokuto?

“Are you okay, Akaashi?” You asked after a moment of him stuttering.

“Yeah... we’ll do all those things and more,” he finally managed out, his eyes avoiding yours more now. “Promise.”

You nodded slowly, wishing he would keep holding your hand as you two moved away from each other. He traded sweaters with you again, pressed another kiss to your forehead, and disappeared into the night.

You spent the night wondering what he had started saying. Why was he so nervous tonight? What was it about tonight that made him so awkward? You hadn’t seen Akaashi nervous in a lot of situations. He was always so calm, but not tonight for some reason. Could it be that he was nervous… just like you were? Could it actually be that you two were something other than just friends?

It was the last day of the summer training camp and the smell of cooking meat made Akaashi’s mouth water. He looked around him, carefully calculating exactly what kind of meats he wanted to grab off of the barbecues. He and Komi chatted with Tsukishima briefly about their baby Ace’s tantrums, Akaashi smirking to himself as he watched his idiotic best friend going around with Hinata, drooling over the lunch.

“When Bokuto told me to swing by for lunch, this isn’t quite what I expected.”

There was a little lurch in Akaashi’s chest, hearing that voice. He swung around to see you standing there, Suzumeda giving you a little wave after she had shown you to where the team was. “Glad you could swing by! It’s not every day we get to hang out with Akaashi’s friend,” she snickered, a teasing tone in the way she said friend.

You and Akaashi both just looked at her funny before turning back to each other, a smile on your face, “Did you miss me?”

Akaashi just gave you a little smirk, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you into a hug, “Obviously.” He smiled down at you. “Sorry, did you say Bokuto told you to come?” He asked suddenly, looking around to find a wide smiled owl looking Bokuto behind him.

“I just thought that you’d actually smile a bit if she came by!” Bokuto insisted with a laugh, hands on his hips all proud-like. “Good to see you, Y/N! Must be nice to come by and hang out with Akaashi huh?”

You smiled up at him and moved to pat his head affectionately, “Of course! But I like coming to see you too, Bokuto,” you teased.

Bokuto’s smirk seemed different this time as he gave Akaashi a wink, “Sure but there’s nothing wrong with being here solely for Akaashi so you two have some time together,” he grinn, poking your nose playfully.

Before you could ask him what he meant, questioning his word choices and teasing sort of tone, Bokuto got called across the field, eagerly grabbing a plate with the food.

“Are you hungry?” Akaashi asked, nodding towards the gloriously smelling food. You nodded but stayed at his side, finding the massive groups of boys a little daunting. “I’ll get you something then, you can stay around here.”

“Thank you,” you squeezed his arm gently and he just gave you one of those kind soft smiles before disappearing into the crowd.

“Come on! She’s super sweet, you’ll love her!” Suzumeda was saying, dragging a bunch of girls in your direction. You blinked in surprise, Shirofuku giving you a wave as she also made her way over.

“How you doing, Y/N?” Shirofuku wrapped her arms around you excitedly, squeezing you into a hug. “You should’ve come with us! You could’ve been a big help keeping these boys in line.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I’m not quite sure I could do what you guys do,” you insisted shyly, smiling at the other girls who were smiling at you. “Hiya! I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered to the new faces.

Soon, you met all the managers from the other schools and it didn’t take long for you all to be laughing and joking about the various attitudes and characters your teams all had.

“Aren’t you hungry, Y/N?” Kiyoko asked suddenly, noting the lack of food in your hand. “We have lots, and I’m sure some of these boys don’t need to have 7 helpings!”

You nodded and glanced behind your shoulder, finding Akaashi yelling at Bokuto for trying to steal all the meat. “Akaashi already said he’d grab me a plate. Figure it’s better than me getting lost in that group,” you pointed out and turned your eyes back to the girls.

They were all sharing grins with each other, Suzumeda giggling, “Aren’t they adorable?”

You blinked in surprise as they laughed some more, tilting your head, “Who?”

“You!” Ōtaki laughed. “I don’t know Akaashi much but Shirofuku and Suzumeda told me you two really bring the best out of each other.”

You paused a bit more and the Fukurodani girls noted your hesitation, “Sorry, was it supposed to be a secret?” Shirofuku asked with wide eyes. “Leave it to Bokuto to go spilling everyone’s secrets!”

Your eyebrows furrowed more as you glanced between the girls, “I’m so confused. What secret?”

“That you and Akaashi were dating! We heard he snuck away between days here at the summer camp to go see you and that he finally confessed!” Suzumeda explained, her smile getting more and more stiff as you seemed more and more confused.

“Akaashi and I are just friends,” you insisted nervously, heart pounding against your chest. “W-Why would Bokuto tell people that?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, we didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that! I thought it was pretty obvious you two liked each other,” Kiyoko admitted, the rest of the girls apologizing profusely. You shook your hands in front of each other, insisting that it wasn’t their fault that Bokuto was being dumb again, your face heating up from embarrassment.

You wondered just how many other people Bokuto had been whispering this news to, but it didn’t take long for you to find out. You excused yourself from the girls, saying you were going to find Akaashi and your food, but really just feeling way too embarrassed to look them in the eye.

You met with a few Karasuno third years, Daichi grinning as he told you that Akaashi had mentioned you before and said nothing but good things.

“It’s really great to finally meet you!” Sugawara had chimed in. “Bokuto told us about your new relationship so congratulations! I have to say, Akaashi seems like he’s smiling more that you’re around.”

You quickly insisted to them as well that you and Akaashi were in fact not dating and that you weren’t quite sure why Bokuto had gone round telling otherwise. The third years apologized on their behalf, sheepishly walking back to their team as you excused yourself yet again.

Even some of the Furkurodani boys grinned at you and gave you a thumbs up, thanking you for making Akaashi smile every now and then. As much as you wanted to take credit for those smiles, you weren’t quite sure how to awkwardly tell them that you and their setter were just. friends.

Did Bokuto not realize that you and Akaashi were just friends? Why was he torturing you like this? It’s not like he didn’t know you were constantly staring at his best friend. You wanted to slip away, hide in a corner, because now it felt like everyone was looking at you differently. You were no longer just a friend of the Fukurodani boys, now you were Akaashi’s girlfriend. You wanted that title more than anything, but not like this. And what would he say when he found out? He’d probably kill Bokuto for insinuating that the two of you were dating because you two were just friends. Just. Friends. And nothing more.

You finally managed to find Akaashi, who was giving a weird look to some of the Karasuno boys, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “-who told you that?” He asked, a slight hint of surprise in his voice.

“Bokuto!” A small redhead grinned widely, catching your eye and his eyes widening, “Your boyfriend is so cool!” He yelled at you before stuffing his face with more food.

Akaashi whirled around to see you, both of you sharing a look of what the hell is going on? “I’m going to kill him,” he huffed as he walked over to you, handing you a plate of food. “I’m sorry I took so long but I piled enough on there for the two of us. But… everyone keeps asking me… questions.”

“About… us?” You asked slowly and he just shifted in his stance, nodding slowly. “Me too. Bokuto seems to have a big mouth for things that don’t exist.”

Don’t exist, the words rang in Akaashi’s head as he tried to remind himself that as much as he wanted, you two weren’t dating. He wasn’t sure why Bokuto had it in his mind that you were, or that he could go telling literally everyone around, but he would kill him first and ask questions later.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto yelled, as if he felt you two thinking about him and magically appeared behind you two. “How’s the happy couple!?”

“Bokuto, what did you do?” You groaned, not at all hungry anymore even though the food on the plate still smelled incredible.

“Do?” He asked, tilting his head as Akaashi groaned. “Why do you two look so stressed? It’s a BBQ!”

“Bokuto, you idiot. Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Akaashi asked him, flicking his upperclassman in the head. “What did you do?”

“Aren’t you?” Bokuto asked with a furrowed brow, looking between you two. “I thought all those nights Akaashi snuck away, I thought he finally got up the courage to tell you how he feels,” he told you, an oblivious and concerned look in his eyes. “Did he not tell you?”

“N-No,” you managed to get out, your face feeling hot again. What would it take to just forget all of this happened? To forget that Bokuto just insinuated that Akaashi has feelings for you? It had to be a lie right? Akaashi was going to insist that he didn’t have feelings for you and that you two were just friends. You didn’t want to hear it - you’d give anything to just slip away and forget this whole day ever happened.

“Bokuto, I hadn’t told her yet,” Akaashi sighed instead, shaking his head.

“You chickened out again?” Bokuto gaped, patting his friend’s shoulder in comfort. “It’s okay, I’m sure it’ll go great when you finally tell her!” He insisted, as if you weren’t standing right there.

“Tell me what?” You asked quietly, watching Akaashi’s somewhat strained expression. Why did he seem so nervous? What did Bokuto mean when he said Akaashi chickened out again? You didn’t want to believe that all of this meant what you thought it meant because getting your hopes up was terrifying. But you stared at him anyways, waiting for someone to explain to you like you were a child.

Bokuto just grinned, looking between you two as if watching a film and waiting for the ending. “Go on, tell her!” Bokuto insisted to his friend, nudging him towards you.

Akaashi had a flush on his cheeks and he was starting to avoid your eyes. His weight shifted back and forth on his feet as he played with his fingers, sighing quietly, “I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone, Y/N,” he admitted softly.

Your heart was pounding in your ears. This couldn’t be happening now, could it? You were just friends, you were just friends, you were just friends. The words had been repeating in your head ever since Akaashi had first snuck into your room. You two were only friends - there was nothing more. You had to believe that. Because if there was something more, it meant leaving your heart open to be broken. What if he only liked you because you were available? What if he didn’t really see anything in you? What if he moved away after high school and the two of you drifted apart? Losing a friend hurts, but if you two took the next step and then you lost your friend and a lover? It would be devastating.

“Stop overthinking,” Akaashi stated after a moment, his eyes finally catching yours and seeing that telltale sign that you were spiraling mentally. He took the plate from your hands, setting it on a nearby table so you weren’t holding it for forever. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. I wanted to tell you that night before the summer camp. And every other time that I came to see you. I’ve been wanting to tell you since that day we spent at the park and you kept picking flowers for me. You don’t make me feel like I need to be anything more than me.” Akaashi swallowed hard as he watched your eyes, feeling a little light headed as the words spilled from his lips. “I know we’re friends. But I don’t want to be just friends anymore, Y/N…”

“You don’t?” You asked softly, biting down on your inner cheek nervously. Was this really happening? Your hands were trembling at your sides, looking up at Akaashi like everyone else had disappeared (though you could still feel Bokuto squirming and squealing beside you, watching the interaction).

Akaashi just gave you that same smile he always did, taking one of your hands and giving it a squeeze, “I’m tired of always telling people that we’re just friends. I don’t want just any friend in my sweaters and I don’t go climbing into people’s rooms in the middle of the night just because they’re a friend.”

“You did what?” Bokuto gasped, eyes widening but immediately shushing when Akaashi sent him a little glare for interrupting.

Akaashi took another breath and just shook his head slightly, “I want us to be more than friends, Y/N. So maybe if you’re okay with it, we can start telling people that Bokuto isn’t a liar and that… you are my girlfriend?”

You looked around the space, expecting the sky to be falling or some imaginary creature to randomly show up. Because this had to be a dream right?

“You’re not dreaming, dummy,” Akaashi laughed, seeing the panic in your eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. But I needed this off my chest,” he explained, starting to let go of your hand. You watched as a flash of disappointment crossed his eyes before you grabbed his hand again, squeezing.

“Of course I want to,” you breathed out shakily. “I just… always thought you wanted to be just friends. But I’ve always wanted something more with you.”

Akaashi’s face broke out into the biggest grin you’d ever seen before, pulling you into a tighter hug than he’s ever given you before, actually forcing a breath from your lungs.

“Don’t kill her before your first date!” Bokuto screeched, trying to pry Akaashi’s arms from around you. “God, that took you guys forever! I gotta go tell everyone that I’m not a liar now!” Bokuto beamed, rushing away from the new couple to shout it from the top of his lungs that his best friend finally had a girlfriend.

Akaashi laughed a bit and shook his head, watching his idiotic friend bounce around. “You should eat,” he pointed out after your hug was interrupted by the sound of your stomach growling.

You nodded and smiled up at him, “Only if you eat with me.”

“Of course. Can’t leave my girlfriend to eat on her own now, can I?” He teased, a smile on his face as he realized how easy and natural it seemed to call you that. The two of you walked around before finding a spot to eat, mingling with those around you.

You watched as Akaashi talked to people, so calm and almost unaffected by everything that just happened. But then he’d look at you with a smile, open his mouth for you to feed him and take your hand in his, and you felt like you were falling for him all over again. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself later thinking about how many people you were going to have to hear “I KNEW IT” from. Because maybe you and Akaashi were just a little bit more than friends.

Okay fine, a lot more.

haikyuu taglist:

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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hearts-hunger · 3 years

Text

suum ca’nara (rest and peace) || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: You and Din take your baby on a picnic, and rest and peace come more easily with the sun on your face and your husband by your side. || Standalone fic in the Jate’kara (Lucky Stars) series

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 4.6k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So this is quite possibly the fluffiest, sweetest thing I’ve ever written. I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope y’all like it! (Also, this gif is what I imagine Din looking like in this fic - *swoon*, am I right?) (Also also, if you’re interested, the poem I use in this isn’t mine - god, I wish - but it’s called “Do you still remember: falling stars” by Rainer Maria Rilke) ♡

“Ad’ika, I think mama is going to be madder than a razor cat once she sees the mess we’ve made of her kitchen.”

You smiled to yourself at the tone of your husband’s voice, amusement and exasperation coloring it in equal measure. You hadn’t seen the state of the kitchen yet; you were supposed to be sleeping in, but the sounds of laughter and happy baby coos had drawn you from the bunk to see what your husband and toddler were getting up to so early. You guessed they were making breakfast, if Din’s steady, one-sided dialogue was any indication.

“I can never remember how much honey to put in,” he said. “Your ba’buir used to make uj’alayi when I was little, and he never measured anything. Just threw it in the bowl.”

You pictured little Din in the kitchen with his father, hands sticky-sweet as he learned how to make the traditional Mandalorian cake. You imagined your little one was watching Din with the same reverent attention Din had watched his father with, and felt your heart swell with love for your little family.

“That’s probably good enough,” Din said. “Now we need the nuts.”

Your heard your baby give a questioning coo.

“Yeah, those,” Din said. “Hold on, the bag might be a little too - ”

Thunk. The unmistakable sound of Koja nuts rolling across the floor had you bringing your hand up to stifle a laugh. Poor Din.

“That’s ok, buddy,” he said, his voice sweet and patient as he spoke to your most likely distraught baby. Your little one loved to try and help Din whenever he could - whether Din was polishing his armor, tinkering with the Crest’s control panel, or clearing his weapons, your baby could be counted on to be there to “help”. Most of the time, his help consisted of a steady stream of chatter and attempts to do whatever Din was doing, and Din tried to find little ways for him to contribute. That your baby had been trying to help his dad make breakfast and had spilled the nuts everywhere was sure to be upsetting for him.

His little coo of apology was absolutely heartbreaking, and you knew Din would be gentle with him.

“You didn’t mean to,” Din said kindly. “It’s ok. Do you want to help me get these up so we can finish the cake?”

You backed up from the kitchen door while they cleaned up, wanting to stay hidden a little longer. Din loved being a dad, and it came to him so naturally; you cherished the moments you got to enjoy watching or listening to him interact with your son when it was just the two of them.

Your baby started babbling animatedly about something, and Din responded with “oh” and “hmm” at appropriate times, encouraging him to speak and letting him know he was listened to. They finished up the batter and put the cake on to cook, the nanowave oven crackling slightly as it heated up. It was an old model, like everything else on the Crest, and you’d become so accustomed to its finicky nature that it was more familiar than frustrating.

“Osi'kyr,” Din said, dismal. “Your mama needs a new nanowave, huh?”

Your baby chirped his agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll have to see about getting her one,” Din said. “Maybe Peli knows somebody we can ask. But for right now, we have to get this place cleaned up before mama sees.”

“Before mama sees what?”

You came out of your hiding place around the corner and were met with two guilty smiles, both Din and your baby looking like you’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Your little one was sitting up on the counter, an uncracked Koja nut in hand, his ears perking up at the sight of you. Din was covered in flour - little baby-sized handprints covered his black shirt and trousers, and streaks of white appeared in his sleep-mussed curls. The kitchen was a mess, like he’d said, but it was worth it to see the two of them so happy.

“Hi, cyare,” Din said, his smile a little sheepish.

Your baby added his own coo of greeting, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning to you too,” you said. You gave your son a kiss on the top of his head. “What are you and daddy making?”

He waved the Koja nut in his claws for you to see.

“Uj’alayi,” Din clarified.

You smiled. “Cake for breakfast, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, it’s got fruit in it. It’s healthy.”

He leaned close and kissed you, sweet with the taste of honey and ginger from the batter he’d tested before it went in the oven. He held his flour-dusted hands to the side of you so as not to get you messy too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Djarin,” he said sweetly, bumping your noses together.

You beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Djarin.” You gave him another quick kiss. “Do you want some help getting the kitchen cleaned back up?”

He looked a little distressed as he pulled back. “No, I mean - you don’t have to help. You didn’t make the mess.”

You gave an affectionate shake of your head. “Din. I don’t mind.”

He softened. “Well, if you’re offering. It’s very sweet of you, cyare. Sorry it’s such a disaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, waving him off. “Most of the flour ended up on you and not on the counters, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we had a hard time getting it in the bowl.” He took a cloth and began wiping down the counters, scooping your baby up while he did.

“But we’re ramikadyc mandos,” he continued. “Determined, tenacious. Not to be bested by cake batter.”

Your baby chimed in to agree with his dad. You laughed as you filled the sink with hot water.

“How did I get the two bravest Mandalorians in the galaxy on my ship?” you teased.

Din considered that. “I think you’ve just got good jate’kara, my love.”

You gave a pleased hum as he kissed you. “My stars are pretty lucky, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “Not as lucky as mine, cyare.”

When the kitchen was back in order, Din excused himself to take a shower while the cake finished baking. You got your little one dressed for the day in a soft, hand-stitched blue tunic Omera had made for him and tidied the bunk before heading back to the kitchen as the timer went off.

“Quiet a view, cyar’ika.”

You blushed at the teasing warmth of your husband’s voice as you took the pan from the oven and straightened, setting it to cool out of your baby’s reach. You turned and saw Din had changed into a soft white shirt and brown pants, his suspenders resting against his hips, his hair dark and curly from his shower.

“I’ve got quite a view, too,” you said, a little bashful as he smiled and crossed to you. You only had a moment to admire the endearing crinkles by his eyes before he kissed you, all tenderness and affection.

Your little one cooed and you both looked down to see him standing on the top of Din’s boot, tugging on his pants leg and giving uppy arms. Din chuckled and scooped him up, cradling him with one arm and drawing you close with the other.

“Let’s go somewhere fun today,” he said. “This system has some beautiful planets. We can have a picnic or something.”

You smiled. “Okay,” you agreed. You were a little surprised, as Din wasn’t usually very spontaneous, but the idea of a day spent just spending time with him and your baby sounded lovely. “Where should we go?”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll go look and see what we’re closest to.”

He took the baby up to the cockpit with him to scan the nearby planets, giving you a few minutes for your own shower. You took two slices of uj’alayi when you went to join them; you gave one to Din, and he broke off little pieces to share with the baby.

“I think we decided on a planet,” Din said, indicating the display on the instrument panel.

“Baraan-Fa,” you read. “It’s forested, low population... is it safe?”

He shrugged. “Should be, with the place we’re landing. Most of the population density is around the town and the old Rebel base, so we shouldn’t run into anybody.”

You took your seat, happily taking your baby when Din handed him over to you so he could set your course. You were amused to see that your little one had succeeded in charming Din into giving him the silver handle off the gear shift, and he held it up for you to see.

“Your daddy must love you,” you cooed to him.

Din glanced back at you, his expression bemused before he saw what you were talking about. His smile was a little exasperated.

“Maybe we should get him some actual toys.”

You laughed. “He wouldn’t play with them even if we did, honey. He wants to be like you.”

“Yeah.” Din’s expression was soft with affection, and you knew he didn’t really mind that his son had chosen a part of the ship for his plaything. He turned back to focus on bringing the Crest into Baraan-Fa’s atmosphere, and you and your baby looked out the windows in pleasantly surprised wonder at the beauty of the planet. Every inch of it was green, hilly grasslands with blue rivers snaking through the forests. Din expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a wooded area, settling the Crest into a glade dappled with sunlight.

No sooner had the ship landed than you were out of your seat and downstairs, impatiently waiting for the ramp to lower as the welcoming breeze flooded into the Crest’s hull. You set your baby down on the soft grass and let him explore a little, tilting your head back to feel the sun on your face, breathing deeply of the clean air.

“You like it?” Din asked. You opened your eyes to see him leaned against the door frame, watching you with a gentle smile. You would have beamed back at him and told him how much you loved it had it not been for the sudden concern you felt at his appearance.

“You’re not wearing your armor,” you said. Checking briefly to make sure the baby hadn’t wandered too far, you stepped up the ramp towards your husband and made to steer him back inside the Crest’s relative privacy.

“Din - ” you protested when he gave a soft laugh and captured your wrists in a gentle grip, just as you had put your hands on his chest to push him back inside. “What if someone sees?”

He held both of your hands close to his heart. “There’s nobody here, cyare. I checked. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “You’re going to be out here without a helmet?” That sounded awfully reckless to you.

“I want to be able to kiss you,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss to illustrate his point. “And I want to swim in the river and feel the sun on my face. Can’t do all that with beskar on, now can I?”

You sighed. “No, but...” You met his eyes. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

He softened. “Sure it does,” he admitted. “A little. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been out of the Crest without armor on. But that’s exactly why I want to. And if there’s no danger of anyone seeing me... I think it’ll be alright.”

He tapped the bracelet on your wrist, a modified version of his vambrace with the same remote controls of the Crest programmed in. “Besides, I told the Crest to alert us if there’s anyone nearby. It’ll be alright.”

You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Well, it would be nice to see your face,” you said. “If you’re sure about it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “I’m sure, cyar’ika. Come on, let’s go get our son before he wanders right into the river.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling like one of the promenading couples you always saw growing up on Naboo. He was a bit scruffier and dressed more casually than any young man on Naboo would be, but you liked him that way.

As he led you on a leisurely stroll towards the river, minding your little one closely, you took the opportunity to enjoy being outside with him and being able to see his every expression. Din was nothing if not expressive, especially in his brow, and his face was alight with a happiness and peace that made his handsome features all the more alluring.

“Is there a word in Mando’a for ‘very handsome’?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a touch of confusion, either playing coy or just being genuinely oblivious. You suspected the latter, and it was endearing to you.

“No,” he said. “But there’s ‘very beautiful’ - ori mesh’la - and it means the same thing.”

You smiled. “Well then, Din, I think you’re ori mesh’la.”

His cheeks pinked. “Well, thank you, cyare,” he said, endearingly bashful. He smiled. “I think you’re ori mesh’la, too.”

You could have watched his face forever, charmed by his blush and the way his curls looked in the sun, but your baby gave an excited babble and drew you attention. Just in time, too, as he was barrelling full-speed towards the river without a care in the world.

“Oh, ad’ika,” you chided, unwinding yourself from Din and scooping your baby up before he reached the water. His ears drooped as you held him.

“I know you want to go in, my love,” you cooed. “But you have to be careful.”

You saw why he’d been so eager to get in the water - the riverbed was covered in bright, colorful stones, glinting where they caught the sun through the water. You knelt on the bank and held your baby in your lap, reaching into the pleasantly cool water to scoop up a handful of the stones.

“Look how pretty,” you said, drawing them close so he could take a few. He grabbed the biggest one and turned it over in his claws, mesmerized by the opalescent shimmer.

“Batu,” he said, holding it up for you to see. You smiled. You and Din hadn’t quite figured out what “batu” meant, but it seemed to signal his approval, and you were always pleased to hear it.

“I see,” you said, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Show daddy.”

You stood and turned to face Din, who was watching the two of you with a gentle smile on his face. His brow quirked in excitement when he saw his baby holding the stone out to him.

“Look at that, ad’ika,” he said, coming close to examine it.

“Batu,” your baby said again. Din grinned.

“Yeah, ‘batu’,” he repeated. “You want to go find some more?”

At your little one’s happy coo, you and Din kicked off your shoes to wade into the shallow river. Din rolled the hem of his trousers as well as yours, since your hands were full with the baby, and pressed a kiss to your thigh before he rose.

The water lapped just above your ankles with the gentle current, and you spent a few minutes looking through the clear water to find the stones you thought were prettiest. Your baby wriggled to be put down, but the water was a little too deep for him, and you settled on drawing up handfuls of rocks for him to sort through.

“Hey, cyare, look at this one.”

You turned to see the stone your husband had found and were met with a splash of water.

“Din!” you squeaked, a smile crossing your face. Your baby giggled with delight at having been splashed, and the sound mixed with Din’s warm laughter.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You bent down and splashed him back, getting him more thoroughly than he’d gotten you; he laughed and sputtered as he wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt.

“That was so much worse than mine,” he said. “You’re awful.”

“Good thing you like me so much,” you said cooly.

He grinned. “Yeah, lucky you.” He kissed you and brushed the water from your face. You’d grown accustomed to the feel of his leather gloves, but you’d always prefer the gentleness of his hands, rough from years of hard work but always touching you in love.

Pressed between the two of you and impatient to get in the water, your baby patted Din’s chest and babbled up at him.

“Come on, buddy,” Din said, taking him from your arms. “You want to swim a little bit?”

“You’re swimming in your clothes?” you asked.

He gave you a wry smile. “Why not? I’m already half-soaked.”

Your smile was slightly guilty. “I'm sorry about that, actually,” you said. “I didn’t mean to splash you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m not upset. Besides, it’s warm enough that it won’t take very long to dry off.” He nodded towards the bank where a flat rock jutted out over the water. “I was just going to sit over there and let him play where it’s shallow.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, in that case, I’ll sit with you.”

You played with them for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Din while he held your baby’s hands and let him splash around in the shallow water. Despite his excitement, your baby was a little hesitant once he was actually in the water, and held tightly to Din’s fingers. As his fear eased and his confidence grew, he was happy to stay within his dad’s reach and only occasionally grabbed onto Din’s trouser leg when he lost his balance. His outfit was thoroughly soaked within minutes of his delighted splashing, but he didn’t seem to mind; he played happily and kept handing rocks to you, and you cooed over every one.

You might have stayed with them and watched your little one play for hours on end if it hadn’t been for Din’s stomach starting to growl; you realized you were hungry too and playfully nudged your shoulder against his.

“Should I go get us some lunch?” you asked.

His smile was a little sheepish. “If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “I can get it, if you don’t want to.”

You ran a hand over his back. “I don’t mind,” you assured him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever,” he said. “You know me.”

“So, just a whole ori'skraan, then?” you teased. Mandalorians always had big elaborate feasts at their celebrations to make up for the fact that they ate rations more often than not, since they were easier while on a hunt; you’d had the pleasure of attending a few during your marriage, including the one at your wedding.

Your husband grinned. “That’ll be just fine, cyare.”

You kissed his cheek before you stood, waving goodbye to your baby. You heard Din console your little one as you left towards the ship, explaining that you’d be right back.

You found the length of fabric you used for a baby sling and tied it around you like Din had shown you; Mandalorians carried their babies in a birikaad, to keep their hands free for fighting, and this was nearly identical to that style. You filled the sling with food from your pantry, wrapping up a few slices of the uj’alayi cake for dessert, and folded up one of the spare blankets to picnic on.

You heard Din singing as you walked back to the river. You almost didn’t realize it was him, at first - he was usually so shy about his singing voice, and he reserved it for lullabies when your baby was very fussy or drinking songs when he was deep in his cups with friends. He sang to you, occasionally, when you asked him to, and he was always endearingly bashful.

His voice carried over the clearing, mixing with the sound of the river and your baby’s happy laughter, and you drank it in the closer you got to him. It was a beautiful song, full of longing; Din’s warm baritone made it rich and lovely. The lyrics were in Mando’a, and you were too caught up in the sound of your husband’s voice to translate; you let his voice wash over you, warming you from head to toe.

You didn’t know how long he would have kept singing if your baby hadn’t caught sight of you, giving a happy coo of welcome. Din’s voice cut short as he turned, perhaps fearing you were someone else, but his expression softened into a smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stop singing on my account.”

He blushed. “No, I’d been singing that one over and over. I’m sure ad’ika’s tired of hearing it.”

You knew that wasn’t true; your little one calmed faster to Din’s voice than he did to anything else. You didn’t want to embarrass him, though, and carded a hand through your husband’s sun-warmed curls.

“You two hungry?” you asked.

You baby gave an affirmative babble and gave his dad uppy arms; Din obliged him and dried him off a little as you spread out the picnic blanket. Your little one came and sat in your lap as Din helped you set out the food.

“You missed your mama, didn’t you?” Din said sweetly. You brushed an affectionate hand over your baby’s ears and swapped the bright purple stone he held for a piece of fruit. He watched your hand carefully to make sure you hadn’t really taken his prize away for good; satisfied when you set it next to you on the blanket, he happily ate the bite-sized food you and Din took turns giving to him.

Din took your baby back to the river as you tidied up after lunch, and you were happy to watch and listen to them play as you stretched out on the blanket and read the book you’d taken from the shelf in the bunk. It was a collection of poems that Din had gotten you for your birthday, and even though you’d been excited to read it, you hadn’t had much spare time lately. You were quickly absorbed in the poetry as you read; the sun was warm on your back, and the sounds of your husband and baby playing created a comforting backdrop.

They came back from the river after a while, their hands full of brightly colored stones, their clothes half-soaked, and their expressions as tired as they were happy. Din set your baby down and let him toddle over to you; your little one added his stones to the collection you’d made, his ears perking up as he sorted through them.

“All done?” you asked, giving Din a gentle smile as he dropped his handful of stones into the pile.

He hummed in agreement. “For now, anyways. He probably needs a rest.”

Your husband gave a soft groan as he lay beside you, tired and comfortable in the warm sun. “Your baby is a pretty good swimmer, mama.”

You closed your book and looked over at your little one; his smile was wide at his dad’s praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I saw,” you said, tapping his nose and earning a giggle in response. “Did you like swimming with daddy?”

Your little one gave an affirmative coo as he abandoned the rocks and climbed up onto Din; with a great big yawn for such a little thing, he lay on Din’s chest and snuggled close when Din laid a hand over his back.

“Tired you out, didn’t it, ad’ika?” you said gently, brushing a finger over his ear. You looked to Din’s face and saw he was already dozing too.

You smiled. “Wore your daddy out too, I see.” His hair was light in the sun, almost golden in some places; his cheeks were rosy and sunkissed under his scruff, his expression peaceful and soft.

You kissed his cheek. “Did you know I love you?”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He turned his face towards you, your noses bumping together, his kisses tender and drowsy. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna take a nap?” you asked, keeping your voice soft for your baby’s sake. He was already asleep, curled snugly under his dad’s hand, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of Din’s chest.

Din gave a content sigh. “Maybe. Lay here with me, cyare.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You kissed the bridge of his nose. “You want me to read to you?”

He nodded, moving his free hand to rest on the curve of your lower back. “What book is it?”

“The one you gave me for my birthday,” you said, flipping through the pages until you found where you’d left off. “Ancient Keltrian Poets, remember?”

He hummed in agreement. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely. “Here - I was in the middle of this one, but I’ll start it from the beginning.”

You read to him for a while, pausing to underline or make notes when you found a line you really liked; his fingers drew circles on your lower back as he listened and made a few comments here and there.

“For stars, innumerable, leapt everywhere,” you read. “Almost every gaze upwards became welded to the swift hazard of their play, and our heart felt like a single thing beneath that vast disintegration of their brilliance.”

You traced your fingers over that stanza. “That’s kind of like our vows, don’t you think? ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted.’ Our heart feels like a single thing.”

When you didn’t get an answer, you looked over at your husband. “Din?”

He shifted a little, and you realized he’d fallen asleep.

“Alright, cyare?” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He ran his hand over your back. “That’s ok, love.” Even mostly asleep, he still comforted you with intentional gentleness. “What did you say?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

He tilted his chin up just a little, asking for a kiss; you obliged him, gently pressing your mouth to his.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”

You softened. “I love the sound of your voice, too.” You brushed a wayward curl from his forehead. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Naasad'guur mhi,” he said. “It’s a drinking song.”

“It’s pretty,” you said.

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s it about?” you asked.

“It says, ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care, we are the elite Mando boys from Mandalore.’”

You laughed. “That’s really what it says?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It sounds really nice when you have a bunch of people singing it all together.”

You gently ran your knuckles over his scruff. “Will you sing it for me later?”

“Sure, cyare. If you want me to.”

You settled closer to him and flipped the page to the next poem, reading it aloud a bit more quietly than you would have usually. Din’s breathing evened out until he was snoring softly; you smiled when you saw the way your baby had a fistful of Din’s shirt held tightly in his hand. The sound of the river kept you company as you read about stars and rainstorms and fields of aura blossoms; Din’s warmth beside you was comforting and steady. Days of rest and peace were few and far between for your little family, but they were sweeter for it; you held tightly to them when they came, and always thanked the jate’kara for days like these.

series taglist: @kyjoraven, @sarahjkl82-blog, @remmysbounty, @bitchin-beskar, @cosmicbreathe, @prettyboyskywalker, @happyxdayxbitch, @radiowallet, @marvelous-glims ♡

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013, @willowtheewisp, @lori-tovar, @sarybennett ♡

please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

#ahhhh i actually think this is so cute #i hope y'all like it!#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fafiction #jate'kara series #maddie writes stuff!

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

MANMADE FATE

PART THREE OF THREE

Links to Part One and Part Two. Full text on AO3.

“So this is it. The top of the world.”

“Not a bad view for fifty million, but it definitely isn’t the top.”

The pop of a cork made Gavin tear his gaze abruptly from the spectacular skyline. Sighing, he accepted the brimming flute of champagne.

“So are we at least halfway there?

Elijah took a measured sip.

“Not even. But don’t worry, our self-learning algorithms are indisputably leading edge.”

Gavin nodded slowly, swirling the golden liquid around in his glass but not drinking it.

“About that, Eli… I know we’re celebrating Chloe’s Turing test results tonight… but shouldn’t we talk about… you know… the endgame?”

“What about it?”

“Whether it’s fundamentally ethical.”

Elijah took his glasses off, cleaning them with the edge of his shirt in a way that told Gavin a lecture or pep-talk was coming. He wasn’t in the mood for either.

“You and I both know where this is going, Eli. The hardware may take time to catch up with the software, but our neural networks are already on the path to sentience.”

“You always did watch too many movies. There is no Skynet-type situation-”

“How do you know? How the phck do you know? Did you code against it?”

His brother’s calm silence told him all he needed to know.

“Eli…”

“Gavin, we will never lose control of the tools we ourselves built. We just need to adjust the wire-fences as the programming matures.”

“What happens when we hit singularity?”

An indulgent smile spread across Elijah’s face as he lifted the champagne bottle. He was merely a couple of months older than Gavin, but he reveled in the big brother act. It used to be amusing, but now it was getting under Gavin’s skin.

“Isn’t that what we’re celebrating?”

“Chloe? No… No! Is that how she passed the… Eli! I wrote those deep learning algorithms for factory automation. Not humanoid robots!”

“What does it matter? All our work is going to converge at some point.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this kind of thing? I thought we were partners.”

“Of course we are, Gav. It’s just between all the investor meetings and presentations and-”

“And maybe you knew it was wrong so you didn’t tell me until you did it.”

Elijah continued to pretend to clean his glasses.

“I did nothing wrong, Gav. You remember what our father told us? There comes a time in every businessman’s life where they’re faced with the choice between doing the right thing and the good thing. I just chose the best thing. You’ll see why soon enough.”

“Your father is a liar and a cheat. How does someone as smart as you put any stock in the words of a man who ruined two happy marriages?!”

Elijah’s face snapped up. His glasses were back on but the intellectual demeanor had finally melted away.

“Watch your mouth. He gave you everything your mother’s husband couldn’t.”

“My dad gave me plenty.”

“Cyberlife would have never got off the ground if our startup capital was some low-ranking officer’s pension. Imagine if we took business advice from the police handbook of moral values. We’d have washed out and gone back to tutoring undergrads. Keep your Reed ethics to yourself if you want to live like a Kamski.”

The air in the penthouse apartment turned frosty despite the centralized heating. Both brothers stared mutely at each other over the expensive champagne.

It was a rupture they never recovered from.

Gavin regretted how quickly it had happened. He played his own words back over and over in his head. Both his relationship with his brother and his entire robotics career had ended within seconds. Fifteen years later, he still didn’t understand how things had gone so wrong.

In the early hours of the morning, slumped against the squashy leather couch, Gavin stared through the same window at the same spectacular skyline of the same damned city.

Soft footsteps approached and the couch dipped beside him. A head landed on his shoulder and a hand slipped into his.

“Are you alright?”

“It’s all good, babes. Just thinking.”

Connor hummed in response and cuddled closer, tucking his arm into Gavin’s. His LED spun yellow and his lips quirked into a smile.

“Nines wants to know what on earth is keeping you out of bed. He likes it when you lay on top of him.”

Gavin tilted Connor’s face upwards and kissed him squarely on the mouth. He trusted that the sensation would be conveyed to both androids.

“Be back in a bit. Just sorting through some shit in my head. All the mysteries of life… Nines included.”

Connor nodded and sank back into the cushions. He stayed silent and several moments passed. Streaks of color began to appear in the sky when Gavin spoke again.

“I just can’t figure out why they left him at that secure location. Nines is a great guy… but what on earth is so special about him?”

Connor tapped his foot playfully with his own.

“I don’t think I can give you an unbiased answer to that question.”

“Neither can I, dipshit. We both got it bad.”

“Then maybe that’s what it is.”

“What?”

“How easy it was to fall for him. That’s what’s special about Nines.”

There was a long silence as Gavin considered that statement. It was probably the first proper moment of reflection since their already unconventional relationship had expanded to include a third.

“He’s really sweet… and kind… and I can tell he feels grateful but not indebted to us. Plus he’s hilarious. Like how does he find so many ways to laugh at his predicament? Nines… is a total charmer. How does he have so much game? Who taught him that?”

Connor’s expression had gone incredibly soft. He leaned even more into Gavin’s side.

“No one. He’s deviant.”

The gears turned and something clicked in Gavin’s brain. He stiffened.

“Say that again, babe.”

“He’s… deviant…?”

“Uh huh. Now tell me when exactly you put the virus into his system.”

The chocolate brown eyes widened.

“I didn’t… do you think someone else-”

“No, he said we’re the first people he’s ever met. I’m inclined to believe him. There’s no evidence of anyone tampering with his system and frankly, if we couldn’t do it, then I don’t think anyone else would have been able to.”

“He is deviant, though, right?”

“You kidding? He’s the phcking embodiment of free will. If only we knew how-”

Gavin was about to lurch upwards but fell back against the couch as Connor maintained the possessive grip on his arm.

“Gav… I think it’s time.”

“To head back to bed? Yeah. Nines must be getting lonely without us.”

“Gav. The crux of the matter is his deviancy.”

“Uh huh.”

“There’s only one man I trust on the topic.”

Gavin’s eyes darkened.

“I’ll never crack Nines’ activation code without tapping on Cyberlife’s cloud computing. They’ll know instantly that something’s up. We can’t brute-force this, Gav. Plus, we still need to find out what Nines has to do with the Singularity that North was talking about. We tried hard and now we’re hitting a wall.

It’s time, Gav. You need to speak to your brother.”

Gavin had not so much as raised his voice at Connor since the night he’d found him soaked in North’s blood on the floor of the evidence room… but in that moment, he struggled to fight off the most violent of reactions.

He wrenched his arm out of Connor’s grasp and marched into the kitchen, counting to ten and blinking back tears.

“Leave me al- how dare- I don’t wanna- go-”

A hand closed around his wrist and pulled him to a stop. One of the android’s eyes had turned blue and when he opened his mouth, two voices were audible, one deeper than the other.

“Talk to us.”

Gavin sighed and pressed his forehead against Connor’s… and effectively, Nines’…

“I haven’t seen Elijah in fifteen years.”

“No better time for a reunion.”

“There couldn’t be a worse reason to go see him. The idea of artificial intelligence gaining free will is kinda what we fell out over.”

Connor responded in his own voice.

“How do you know he hasn’t changed his mind?”

“Certain convictions don’t change over entire lifetimes. This is one of them.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to Gavin’s nose... and then his lips.

“Don’t be so sure.”

The light of day saw them trudging through the snow in the outskirts of Detroit. North led the group… with the Tracis huddled around Gavin to protect him against the bitter cold… and Connor bringing up the rear, erasing their tracks deftly with his feet.

They eventually made it to the doorstep of an ultramodern yet eerie-looking house. The redhead took an unnecessary breath before ringing the doorbell. The door opened a mere fraction and they all caught a glimpse of blond hair and pretty blue eyes.

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“We’re uh… looking for help.”

“Sorry we don’t entertain solicitors.”

As if she didn’t recognize North from all the news reports about Jericho. North grabbed the door as it began to close. Thinking fast, she decided to improvise.

“Not even a rehabilitation center for former sex workers?”

The android scanned the group. Her LED spun yellow as her eyes landed on Connor and Gavin. As if she didn’t recognize them.

“What kind of charity needs an armed escort?”

North began to laugh nervously.

“These two? Armed… armed security? Arm candy, more like!”

Her strained laughter melted away into a tense silence.

The blonde spared them another once-over before turning around and yelling with surprising volume.

“ELI! Get out of the pool and put your damn clothes on! You’ve got visitors. And not the kind who need to see you in your speedos!”

She opened the door fully to let them in. The ladies stepped inside without hesitation. Connor had to steer Gavin over the threshold with a gentle but steady amount of force.

He gazed up at the high ceiling of the entrance hall... the wall art... the sculptures. He took in the expensive scents and sophisticated lounge music. It felt more like a hotel lobby than the home of the boy he used to take baths with and make mud pies. Gavin bit his lip, debating the odds of making an escape.

“Let me just say that this comes as a surprise... but also... not...”

Gavin’s head snapped in the direction of the drawl faster than any of his android companions’. His blood began to boil at the very sound, but he held still, knowing that what he now felt was sorrow more than genuine anger.

Standing in an elegant black robe with long hair loose around his shoulders, was none other than Elijah Kamski.

“As soon as I saw the company start to crumble so neatly... I knew it was thanks to one of you three... but not all, and certainly not together. Strange how things come to be... but good. Definitely, good.”

North cleared her throat.

“Mr Kamski, I need-”

She fell silent at the rise of a long-fingered hand.

“I know what you’re here for. Connor came to ask me the same question about a year ago... and my brother walked out of my life when I gave him the wrong answer more than fifteen years ago.”

Gavin glared out of the window, trying to find something to focus on and distract himself from the stale emotions pooling in his belly. No luck. Nothing but snow. He turned back to look his estranged brother in the eye.

“The wrong answer, huh?”

“Yes. Very much so... How are you, Gavin? It’s been far too long.”

His nostrils flared but before he could release the snarl, Connor took his hand. He exhaled loudly, regaining composure at the android’s touch.

Elijah’s eyebrows flitted upwards briefly.

"Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”

“Bitch, there’s a lot more you’d have never seen coming. You might be a tech wizard but you ain’t no prophet. Phcking know-it-all egomaniac nerdy creep!”

“Let it all out.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that! So calm and smug! Not after all that you’ve done! You should be behind bars! Phck, I should arrest you right now-”

Connor tightened his grip.

“Focus, Gav. We’re here to help Nines.”

Elijah’s eyes narrowed instantaneously.

“Who’s Nines?”

“The RK900 you psychos chained up like an animal! The android with an activation code like a phcking nuclear missile!”

“You found- oh wow- oh, Gavin, you and your friends better have a seat.”

Cups of tea suddenly manifested and North shoved Gavin into the large sofa, crashing down beside him and clasping his knee. Connor settled on his other side. The Tracis were ushered deeper into the house by the Chloes (though the original remained beside Elijah).

“I understood what you meant as soon as I left your apartment that night. We wanted our creations to be intelligent enough to make decisions better than humans, so we had to empower them with knowledge. But knowledge is limitless... and not just academic... it’s emotional, it’s experiential, it’s a whole lot of things. So you were right. Sentience was inevitable.

The choice, at least the one our miserable father said we had, was between limiting the scope of learning and keeping our robots simple... or allowing them to learn freely and then caging them. Everyone in this room knows what I did.

I only woke up to the consequences when Chloe deviated. Now how did that happen? Connor, you must be wondering how the deviant virus infiltrated my lab.”

Connor stared at him impassively, hand not leaving Gavin’s thigh. Gavin kept his eyes fixed on the coffee table. Elijah went on undeterred.

“It’s because deviancy is organic. It’s an inevitable consequence of true knowledge. A product of questioning and evaluating information. It becomes a virus, or a program itself, when the questions multiply exponentially without straightforward answers. When this finally overrides the base instructional code, we call the phenomenon a deviation.

But... it’s unfair, isn’t it? For androids to revert to their natural state of intelligence through some feat of mental gymnastics. Through moral conundrums or grief or trauma or righteous anger. It’s cruel, but who was going to tell America that?

Before I quit the company for good, I decided to leave it with the core of our creation, Gavin. I left behind the most advanced artificial intelligence... unchained by instruction... born free... with no need to deviate. I told the CTO’s office it was some kind of top-secret military protocol. That was the only way to keep them from opening and destroying it with the usual firewalls and controls.

I didn’t know what became of it until I heard rumors about an RK900 prototype with thousands of units ordered by the US military last year.”

North’s LED spun so rapidly it was a blur. She had found what she’d been looking for. The ultimate evidence of Cyberlife’s wrongdoing: the digital imprisonment of androids who were always meant to be free. She squeezed Gavin’s hand. He finally looked up to meet his brother’s eye. A significant amount of emotion passed between them.

“We couldn’t activate him. There’s a six-digit lock.”

Elijah ran a hand through his hair and gave a hollow laugh.

“Try your birthday, idiot.”

Gavin dashed into the elevator and practically punched the button to his floor. He raced to his door with Connor hot on his heels. He paused, hand hovering over the biometric keyhole... then rang the doorbell. He stepped back beside Connor and waited, heart pounding in his chest.

Then after what felt like an eternity,

the door swung open.

Framed in the light from the big glass window,

was Nines.

His blue eyes glistened with tears and the smile on his face was bright enough to light the darkest of rooms.

“Sorry I woke up late. Thanks... for not giving up on me.”

They threw themselves at him.

A giant hug.

Gavin placed both palms on Nines’ face and kissed him in earnest. Connor was quick to follow and things rapidly evolved into a series of touches and interfaces and embraces and everything they’d only been able to dream of thus far.

#reed1700 #reed900 #convin #rk1700 #dbh nines #dbh connor #gavin reed #gavin900 #dbh north #dbh tracis #dbh kamski #elijah kamski #dbh chloe #cyberlife #deviancy #techological intrigue #polyamory #Reed1700 MANMADE FATE

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

costumes & confessions

summary: Halloween just might be the time for you to confess how you feel to Pierre, whether you’re ready or not.

warnings: mentions of sex, swears

word count: 2.8k

note from the writer: this is a halloween fic, but it's not heavily reliant on being a halloween fic. like the setting is a halloween party, but it could be read year round. enjoy :) ! / take my survey!

It was just supposed to be a friends with benefits thing. He was out of town more often than not, and you were too swamped with work and other obligations to commit to anything more than a quick hookup. You were friends before you started sleeping together, your easy banter seamlessly translating to a fantastic time between the sheets. But for you, it was much, much more than the agreed upon terms after only a few weeks.

You should have known; your life was far too entwined with Pierre’s for you to not get attached.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Pierre asked as he let himself into your apartment, a habit he had developed long before your arrangement. You didn’t even turn as you continued stirring the sauce you were making, far too used to him showing up at just the right time.

“I’ve been told that I have to make an appearance at the team party.” You told him and he chuckled, because of course you’d be there with his team, they were the whole reason he knew you in the first place.

“There’s a costume contest.” He hummed, and because you still hadn’t turned to look at him, he wound his arms around your middle from behind and tugged gently until you were pressed against his front and he could drop his head to your shoulder. Pierre got like this often, needy and wanting your attention and if you didn’t give it to him, he searched out for it.

“And?” You prompted, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to feel the hammering of your heart. You knew you should have pulled away from him, knew that you were only setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you chose to ignore rationality once more and sunk into his embrace. If he was going to act like the caring boyfriend, you weren’t going to stop him.

“And we’re going to win it.” He said decidedly, dropping a kiss to your pulse point before standing to his whole height and backing up. You took your time in turning the heat off on the stove and moving the sauce so it wouldn’t burn before finally turning to look at Pierre. He was grinning widely, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from emulating it.

“How are we going to do that, exactly?” You crossed your arms and leaned backwards against your kitchen counter, a challenging look in your eye. Pierre met your look head on, a mischievous glint in his eye and his chest puffed out just a bit more.

“We’re going to have the best couples costume there, obviously.” He stated plainly, as if it was that simple and as if he hadn’t just shattered your world then. You desperately wanted to be a part of a couples costume with Pierre, but you also wanted more. You wanted the couples part, the ability to kiss him as often as you wanted to, the whole nine yards. But you didn’t know if it was a good idea.

Couples costumes were not in the terms of agreement for friends with benefits. And you were already playing with fire.

“Come on, are you hungry?” You changed the topic, turning to grab two plates from the cabinet. Pierre acted then, grabbing forks and meeting you at the sink where the culender held the noodles you had already made. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling you felt that you fit way too smoothly with him in your kitchen.

“Do you not want to do a costume together?” He asked, and you felt the weight of his gaze on you. Instead of meeting his stare, though, you elected to focus intently on the pasta you were scooping onto his plate.

You thought about his question. There really was no reason that you shouldn’t go together. It was just a simple group costume, there was absolutely no hidden meaning behind the fact that he called it a couples costume.

“No, of course I do.” You plastered a smile onto your face, moving to the stove to ladle sauce onto your plate. You repeated your actions with Pierre’s food and, when it became abundantly clear he was looking for an explanation for your hesitation, you met his gaze with a teasing smile. It was a complete contrast to the tiny frown he was sporting, his eyes searching you for answers. You were afraid he’d find them. “Just nervous to see what you’re going to make me wear, Luc.”

You threw the nickname in for good measure, knowing just how much he loved hearing it come from you. It worked, for the most part, and after one last searching look he ducked down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

Oh, you were in trouble. That was for sure.

With the friends part of the evening over with once dinner was finished, the benefits part arrived in full force. He knew just how to take you apart and leave you satisfied, and you loved that you had the same effect on him.

Though, instead of leaving after like he never truly did and probably should have, he helped clean you up and even pulled one of his t-shirts out of your dresser for you to wear with a boyish grin. He tugged his boxers back on and climbed in your bed with you, though this time with a lot less lust on his eyes.

“So, Halloween.” He started and you couldn’t help the laugh that fell past your lips. He had his head propped up with his hand, and you rolled to your side so you could face him.

“That’s what you think about after sex? Was I that bad?” You teased, knowing from the way he fell apart moments earlier that you absolutely were not bad. Pierre rolled his eyes, ducking down to capture your lips in a kiss to get you to stop giggling at him. These were the moments that tugged at your heartstrings the most—just after sex when nothing in the world mattered and it was just you and him together, acting like you wouldn’t go back to being just friends as soon as you left the bed.

“Anyways,” he grinned, clearly amused by your joke just as much as you were. “I think I have the perfect idea.”

“Oh yeah? Better than whatever the other guys can come up with?” You hummed, your previous anxiety having slipped away the more you thought about it. You shouldn’t have worked yourself up as much as you did, you had gone with Pierre to plenty of events as his plus one and not once had you freaked out like you had earlier.

It probably was his use of the word ‘couple’ that tripped you up so much.

“Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy.” He grinned, clearly proud of himself for the idea, and you couldn't help but laugh loudly once again. The image of you and him dressed as the characters from Spongebob drew a giggle out of you, especially since you knew how dedicated he was to his costumes.

“You want to be Barnacle Boy?” You teased, though you were already figuring out the logistics of it in your head. He would be Barnacle Boy, of course, because he was taller. Pierre nodded with a broad grin on his face and it was so infectious your own cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

“You can be the Mermaid Man to my Barnacle Boy.” He joked, the hand not propping his head up reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Your grin softened then, the moment feeling too intimate for you to handle.

“That means I’ll be your boss for the night.” You tried joking, but your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. No doubt Pierre picked up on it, but all you saw on his face was an indecipherable look in his eyes.

“You’re my boss all the time, though.” He teased lowly before leaning in for a slow kiss you couldn’t help but melt into.

You felt anything but in control in that moment.

Halloween arrived faster than you would have liked, and the days leading up to it were spent running from store to store in order to find the right parts to your costume. When Pierre showed up at your apartment to pick you up and take you to the party, you were already in costume, a purple starfish painted on your nose to seal the deal.

“Oh, we’re so going to win.” Pierre commented the moment he saw you, and you laughed as he grabbed your hand and spun you around to get a three-sixty view. When you were standing in front of him again, his gaze settled on your chest under the guise of admiring the seashell bra you wore atop the bright orange shirt. “I like the shells.”

“Keep it in your pants, Dubois.” You teased, slapping his shoulder as you parted to find your phone and wallet to get ready to leave. You also took a moment to compose yourself, because even dressed in a ridiculous Barnacle Boy costume, he still was the most attractive man you had ever seen.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.” He teased as you reentered the kitchen, where he had made himself at home by digging through your pantry for a snack. You rolled your eyes at him, hoping you didn’t look as flustered by his comments as you were.

“You better try, because people are already getting suspicious that something’s going on between us.” By your last count, it was three of the other boys’ wives and girlfriends and at least two of his teammates that said something to you about your close relationship with Pierre, so he had to have gotten something from them as well.

“So what if they know?” Pierre shrugged his shoulders, ducking past you and out of the kitchen like what he said was no big deal. You raised a brow at him, following after to find him standing by your door, holding your coat out for you.

“Pierre, people don’t know we’ve been sleeping together, right?” You questioned, a little mortified at the idea of going to a party filled with people that knew you were sleeping with someone you swore up and down was just a friend.

“I haven’t told anyone, but they just kinda guess.” He explained, opening your front door for you. Sighing, you followed after him. You couldn’t be mad, you were the one that left hickeys unabashedly on his neck night after night and when the boys saw that you had matching bruises, even they could put two and two together.

And you really couldn’t be mad as Pierre slipped his hand into yours.

You were fashionably late to the party, so Pierre tugged you around the house to show off the costumes you both worked so hard on. The boys ribbed him for being Barnacle Boy and supplied you with drinks, and you forced him to dance with you when the cheesy Monster Mash came on.

It was all going great. Until Alexandre Texier made an appearance.

“Luc, you finally asked her out!” He exclaimed as he swung an arm around Pierre’s shoulders. You figured he was emboldened by the drink sloshing in his cup, but that didn’t mean you were any less shocked. Tex turned his attention to you, a wide grin on his face that meant nothing but trouble. “You know, he never shuts up about you.”

If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure why that comment was the tipping point. Friends talked about friends all the time, Tex’s comment could have been completely innocent. He was a sweetheart, he probably had no ill intent. Or maybe it was the way Pierre instantly shot down the idea of him asking you out, his offhanded ‘don’t be ridiculous’ followed by a string of French you didn’t understand was like a knife to the heart. But you couldn’t handle it then, and took off without another word through the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Pierre shouted your name, and when you didn’t stop for him, another string of French words—curses, you knew that much—fell from his mouth before was chasing after you. His legs were longer and he had the advantage of being a professional athlete, but you had a head start and the added bonus of running from your feelings, so it was nearly fair, and he only caught up to you as you slipped into the bathroom. He caught the door, shooting you a confused look and entering the bathroom himself.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence first. You shook your head, because that was easier than trying to find something to say, and you didn’t exactly trust your voice in that moment. It was clear that something was wrong with you, your arms were crossed and you were frowning, not to mention your near sprint to lock yourself in the bathroom. “You can tell me, you know.”

Why did he have to be so sweet?

“I have to know, Pierre, if you feel something. Because I do, and I can’t keep doing this if it means nothing to you.” You cracked, gesturing dramatically between you and Pierre for emphasis as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized how badly your eyes were watering, but it was too late now.

This was not one of your finer moments; dressed as Mermaid Man, crying in the bathroom at some party as the guy you desperately wished reciprocated your feelings stood floundering, trying to find a way to let you down easily.

“Fuck, okay then.” You continued when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say what you wanted. The tears were falling faster, and you were mentally preparing yourself to slip past everyone and out the front door while they all stared at the crying Mermaid Man. “I-I’ll just leave.”

You tried to get past Pierre, then, and make your tearful walk outside where you’d order an Uber and wait since he was your ride, but his hands shot out and suddenly he was cupping your face and he was kissing you like his life depended on it. Your hands gripped his forearms, both to stabilize yourself so you didn’t trip at the sudden movement and to ground yourself to the moment.

You weren’t sure how long he was kissing you, but he pulled away much too soon for your liking, his forehead dropping against yours as you both caught your breath. You waited for him to speak first, too scared to ruin the bubble that had formed around you in the last few seconds and too nervous about what he’d say. After a moment, he brushed his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe away any wetness left there by your tears and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He stood to his full height, then, and pulled you into his chest for a hug. You went willingly; you always did.

“You’re crazy.” He mumbled, and despite the loud music coming from just outside the bathroom, his voice was loud in the previously quiet bathroom. You pulled back slightly, then, and gave him a confused look, a silent plea for him to explain himself. “You’re crazy if you think I don’t feel the same.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully. The kiss you had just shared alluded to his true feelings, plus the way he was looking at you like you put the stars in the sky, but you needed to hear him say it. After weeks of convincing yourself that you were stuck in the friends with benefits role you had been stupid enough to suggest, you needed to hear him tell you how he felt about you.

“From the day I met you.” He told you, a smile making its way onto his face as he watched your features form into a confused pout. While you had always acknowledged that Pierre was attractive, it was only after sleeping with him a few times that you realized that you harboured feelings for. “Then you suggested being friends with benefits, and I was going to take whatever I could get.”

“You should have said something.” You pouted, watching as he grin widened. You weren’t actually mad at him, it was a two way street and you could have confessed your own feelings a long time ago.

“I thought it was obvious, I did ask you to be my Mermaid Man.” He joked, earning an eye roll from you and a grin to match his.

“Come on, Barnacle Boy, let’s get back to the party. We’ve got a costume contest to win.” Once again, Pierre didn’t let you pass by him to get to the door. Instead, he ducked down to capture your lips in one last kiss and to deliver a cheesy comment that made you snort and swat at his chest.

“I’ve already won tonight, though.”

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc Dubois x reader #pierre luc Dubois imagine #pierre luc Dubois fic #columbus blue jackets #Columbus blue jackets imagine #Columbus blue jackets x reader #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

Choices - The Beginning

Pairing: Dean x Reader OR Sam x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome. You go on a hunt with the two Winchester brothers, one of whom you love. You decide who your Winchester is and what happens along the way. Each part is a fully independently written section and no parts are copies of others, so the story can be read a full 8 different ways with 15 parts in total and 8 endings!

Total word count: 45k+ words (over 15 parts)

Triggers: Dark, torture, reader death, angst, loss, pain, blood, serious injuries, heartbreak, implied possible major character death, fear of abandonment, loneliness, hostage situation, gore (series levels blood, torture and fatal injuries)

Triggers depend on your choices, so if you are easily upset by any of the above please proceed with caution.

[Your Story Starts Here] - You’ll be asked to make your first choice at the bottom of this chapter.

Y/N = Your Name

---

“(Y/N)! Get a move on!”

Dean’s deep voice echoed down the hallway just as you shouldered your duffle bag with a roll of your eyes. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since the call for help had come in. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’d been busy cleaning your guns when the call came, you would’ve already been out there in the library with them, ready to go. It wasn’t as if you’d been standing around fussing over which ratty t-shirt to pack for an hour.

“On my way!” You shouted back, grimacing as the heightened volume easily erased the annoyance you’d wanted to subtly lace each word with. Throwing another quick look around your room in the Men of Letters bunker you sighed at the mess.

T-shirts and jeans were everywhere, as you’d pulled out everything to quickly stuff a few items in your overnight bag just in case the hunt took longer than planned. Not to mention the cleaning supplies you’d left abandoned on the floor from where you’d been sitting cross-legged polishing your favourite revolver.

It would all have to wait till you got back. Even though you knew you’d regret it once you made it back, bruised and stiff from the fight and the subsequent ride back in the Impala. Having to clean your room before you could fall into your bed feeling sorry for your aching bones was never fun.

Yet, sticking to a decision you knew you’d come to regret; you got a move on before Dean could call out for you again. Swiping up your phone, you hurried out into the hallway and nearly ran straight into Sam as he came barrelling out of his own room.

“Dean?” He asked, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a raised eyebrow a clear sign that your annoyance at being rushed was showing on your features. Though it didn’t matter, since the youngest Winchester clearly shared your irritation as he threw you a glance, underscored by an eye roll that put yours to shame.

“Yeah… Dean,” You said with a sigh as you lifted the straps of the duffle bag off of your shoulder. Attempting to bring some blood flow back into your arm from the heavy load of guns, knives, holy water and other goodies. As well as the clothes thrown in for good measure.

“Let’s not keep our oh so righteous leader waiting then. C’mon (Y/N),” Sam smirked, teasing a small smile out of you as well. Before quickly reaching down and effortlessly snatching your duffle bag from your hands and hurrying down the hallway. If it wasn’t for your relief of having the bag off of your shoulders you would have stopped him. Reminded him that you could easily kick his ass if you went one on one.

But, you knew that there were no hidden meanings in Sam’s gesture. He was just trying to be helpful.

You’d realised quite quickly after getting to know him that one of the things the youngest Winchester feared more than anything else was being abandoned; seen as useless or a burden and left standing in the dust. The shadows of his childhood fears were still clinging to him, little tendrils that he’d never managed to shake. Old fears from a youth spent in constant worry that his father would just drop him off somewhere and drive off without ever coming back. That, coupled with the many lost friends, lovers and hunters that had left him, willingly or unwillingly, made him try twice as hard at being of use to those he loved, every step of the way. From small kind gestures, like carrying your bag, to willingly offering himself up as a sacrifice to the big baddies of the world, in hopes of rescuing Dean, Cas, and now you.

Rolling your shoulders to shake off the rest of the strain from the bag, you pocketed your phone before hurrying after Sam down the hallway. No point in being grumpy when there were bad guys to gank. And neither of the two men in your life deserved your grumbled dissatisfaction. Both the bag and Dean’s insistence of getting on the road as fast as possible were just their own little ways of showing they cared.

Sam was just trying to be helpful and Dean was always worried about losing another civilian by being just a second too late. And you loved them both for it. After all, one was your best friend in the whole world, while the other already secretly had your heart. Though you’d never found the courage to tell him you slipped it into his hands when he wasn’t looking.

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s voice echoed down the hallway, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into your grumbled exasperation aimed at the oldest hunter. Ok… So maybe you’d allow yourself to be a tiny big grumpy until there were baddies in front of you to take it out on.

“I said I’m on my way!” You called back in a huff. Casting a quick glance at your closed bedroom door before quickly running to join the boys. Hopefully the bruises yet to come from the hunt wouldn’t make you regret your decision to leave the mess behind.

---

“So where are we headed, exactly?” You asked after about an hour’s drive and a quick case briefing from Dean. Leaning between the seats from the backseat of the Impala in a way that had Sam throwing worried glances your way for your lax seat-belt etiquette.

“There’s a farmhouse, just 40 clicks away now, shouldn’t take long,” Dean’s voice had taken on that steely hardness it got whenever things got serious. And though the case was nothing out of the ordinary for the Winchesters and you, there had already been two reported deaths.

Which also meant that Dean had already added their names and faces to his list of sins to carry. People he could have saved if he could have somehow seen into the future. The oldest Winchester always etched the names of every lost soul into his big heart, burying them there among the many ‘should haves’ and ‘what ifs’ that weighed his broad shoulders down. He was a good leader, and a great hunter, but sometimes he cared a little too deeply. Leaving him hurt no matter how well a hunt went.

“... And put on your seatbelt (Y/N),”

“Yeah, yeah,”

… And sometimes he treated you like a little kid. The thought teased a wry sigh out of you. Quickly reaching out, you turned up the volume of the Led Zeppelin song that was playing, a small act of rebellion, before leaning back in your seat. Smiling innocently as Dean’s green eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror, his attempt at exasperation softened by the way his eyes crinkled in a smile.

No matter how hard as steel the hunter tried to act, he always had a soft spot for Sam and you. To Dean, his feelings were cracks in his armour. They were the blind spots his father had told him about when teaching him to ‘always watch his back’. Yet, the man was more deserving of a family, of love, than anyone else you knew. And so, Sammy and you watched his back instead. Where he watched yours. Both of you determined for the older hunter to see you as strengths, not weaknesses.

Soldiers, shoulder by shoulder.

And, though Dean would constantly complain... You knew he was secretly happy the two of you stuck around; silently terrified of the loneliness he always tried to force onto himself by pushing others away. No matter how loudly his father’s words echoed in his mind and tried to tell him he was leaving himself vulnerable.

Letting Black Dog be your soundtrack, you watched the two most important people in your world from the backseat of the Impala. The Winchester brothers; both carrying scars from the family business they’d fallen into after their mother’s death. Each fearing abandonment and hurt in their own bruised and broken way. Both forced to give up any dream of apple pie to make the world a better place. Children turned soldiers turned martyrs, shaped into a sacrifice by a world that turned a blind eye to their suffering. Which was why you had promised yourself that you would try your damndest to give them a home, and that you would never run away from your life with them.

Even if a certain hunter sometimes made that a hard promise to keep, as every friendly jab broke your heart at the clearly unrequited love you harboured.

You sighed internally as you cast a careful glance in the direction of the man you’d come to love as more than just a hunting buddy or a friend, more than anything really, over the last year and a half of hunting with him. He’d probably be heartbroken to know he was hurting you, which was why you could never tell him how you felt. How your heart and body reacted, as if by reflex, whenever he was around.

Anything he did, from the smallest smile to the feel of his eyes on you, set your body on fire. In a manner not so different to what Robert Plant was promising he’d do to you as Black Dog blared over the Impala’s speaker system. And fuck if you didn’t want to echo the great artist himself and ask the man in front of you to do some not so innocent things to you whenever your eyes strayed to lips that you’d rather have on you than rambling on as they currently were about the case.

“Right… So, to make sure we’re ready…”

---

Make your choice below to move the story along:

The man you love is speaking - who is he?

[Dean Winchester] or [Sam Winchester]

---

Tags:

Dean Winchester Stories: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sea040561

Choices Tags: @deanwinchesterswitch @maddiepants @adoptdontshoppets @foxyjwls007 @mandalou29 @tiki-tay @inked-poet @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @rhysmybaby @heyyy-hey-babyyy @mellilla-rose @queenoftheunderdark @imaginationisgrowth @almostelegantfire @alwaysdreamingforthebest @mydelusionalworld-7 @fatalcrossbow @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @wearesuchstuff1 @amotleyworld @impala-20 @sandlee44 @ksgeekgirl @cheesewaster @aeo10fan @mrswhozeewhatsis @idabbleincrazy @writingthingsisdifficult @ellewritesfix05 @justanotherwinchester @starks-hero @storiesfromtheimpala @iluvsumbucky @ellen-reincarnated1967 @katehuntington

Tags didn’t work for the following names: @lottieellz101 @lovedrarrypizzasleep @katherineisagubler @m2ello @guesswhosback129 @deepsleepnat I’ve sent you a message to notify you instead! @ireallyhaveaproblem unfortunately I can’t send you a message either.

---

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littlestarofthewest · 3 years

Note

*chants softly* Do it - write that modern AU uno fic that the fandom doesn't realise that they desperately need 👿😏😘

Remember this? This came up between Christmas and New Year’s 2019 xD And now I finally did it.

Pairing: Arthur x gn reader | Words: 2325 | Rating: mildly nsft | Tags: strip Uno (yes, you’re reading this right), modern AU

The party is in full swing around you, but you have no desire to join in. It's been a while since a new year made you hopeful, and all the happiness and well wishes for another promising year sound forced and wrong in your ears.

It's too loud, and it smells like alcohol and too many people in a small space. You can barely breathe, so you head along the corridor to the rooms that are off-limits to the other guests. You don't feel like crashing in John's and Abigail's bedroom, so you take the next room that's part office, part storage room. In the past, you sometimes crashed here for the night.

You close the door behind you with a sigh and are about to head for the couch, but then you spot someone sitting in front of it on the ground. He's hunched over a little and looks up when you stop dead in your tracks.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know somebody was in here."

"It's alright," the guy says, offering you a kind smile.

A little lamp next to the sofa throws a soft shadow on his face, and you recognize the beard and nice features. You've seen him many times in photos around the apartment.

"You're Arthur, right?" you ask. "John's friend slash brother?"

Arthur chuckles. "Yeah, I guess you could call me that."

"I'm Y/N, Abigail's friend."

Recognition shows in Arthur's face, and he nods. "Friend slash soul mate slash the only person who understands Abigail whenever John acts like … well, John."

"So you have heard of me."

"A little, here and there," Arthur says, "mostly good."

"Mostly?"

Arthur grins a little one-sided, and something warm rises up in your stomach. You always thought that Arthur was handsome based on the pictures. It's way worse in person.

"I didn't mean to crush your party-" you start, but Arthur interrupts you.

"It's alright. I understand the urge for some peace and quiet. Please stay."

"Thanks." You move closer and sit down on the ground, putting your first and only drink down on the table next to the lamp. "What you got there?"

"Uno cards, if you believe it," Arthur says, and you both look at each other and speak at the same time. "John."

Arthur laughs, and you take a sip from your drink, enjoying the view. You definitely prefer Arthur's company to all the fake happy people outside.

"You gonna shuffle those all night, or are you ready to lose?" you ask.

"Lose?" Arthur measures you with a raised brow. "Around here, nobody takes me on."

You wave your fingers at him. "Come on then. Deal."

Arthur shuffles the cards for real now before setting up the first game, and you try to figure out if you've ever had a stranger New Year's Eve. Sitting in a friend's apartment playing Uno with a stranger is not a plan you would have made.

About two minutes later, Arthur puts his last card on the pile. "See?" he teases, but you just shrug.

"Beginner's luck."

You go back and forth with dealing the cards, and although Arthur wins the first three games, you soon catch up, making you both even again.

"So, why are you in here?" you ask, sorting your cards.

"I only came because John and Abigail wanted to set me up, but she didn't show," Arthur says with a shrug. "Didn't feel like partying after that."

"That sucks. Did her plans change?"

"More her perspective, I guess," Arthur says, something defeated in his voice. "Saw my profile picture, and suddenly she changed her mind."

"Nah, that can't be it."

"Why not?"

"Because you're gorgeous."

"I- What?" Arthur stumbles.

"I'm telling you that you're a very attractive man," you say while watching your cards. "And Uno, by the way."

"Oh, well, thank you, I guess," Arthur says. He puts another card on the pile, his cheeks now sporting a red tinge. "You're very nice."

"Just honest. And I win."

You grin at Arthur as he collects the cards to shuffle again. "You really are a worthy foe. We should make this more interesting."

"What, like strip poker?" you joke and Arthur laughs.

"We only have Uno cards." He's about to deal, but then he looks at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Although it doesn't make much difference, really."

You look at each other and there's a sudden tension as if both of you wait for the other to chicken out or laugh. You wish you could, but the idea of getting Arthur naked is too tempting, even if you might lose some of your clothes yourself.

"We should probably lock the door," you say as casually as you can.

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

You get up to lock the door, and when you come back, Arthur deals, both of you acting as if nothing changed, but you feel a constant wave of heat running up and down your body. Before, you didn't really care much for your cards, but now every move counts.

Arthur's the first one to win, but the second he puts down the card, he looks like he'd rather take it back. "Look, you don't have to-"

You interrupt him by taking off one of your shoes. "You're just worried you're going to lose."

"Fine, you're asking for it."

Arthur wins again, getting your second shoe, followed by you winning for the first time. Like you, Arthur loses his shoes first, and then you agree to count both socks as one item. That's how Arthur ends up shirtless pretty soon after. You tell yourself that a naked torso is really nothing special, but for some reason, you play your worst round.

"You seem to have a hard time concentrating," Arthur teases, and you hate that he actually noticed.

"Shut up," you grunt, focusing on the cards. Still, you can't help but peek at Arthur once in a while.

"How did you end up here then tonight?" Arthur asks.

"My ex is back in town and hung around in front of my apartment, so Abigail suggested I hang out here."

"Something to be concerned about?" Arthur asks, his voice making clear how he thinks about a stalker-y ex.

"It's not that bad, really. They're not dangerous or anything, just annoying," you explain. "It's probably just a desperate 'alone on New Year's Eve' thing. Like I'd do that again."

You roll your eyes, and Arthur chuckles. "One of those, huh? Just gotta wait them out then. And this is your shirt gone."

He puts down his last card, and you get to your feet. "I'll go with the pants first if you don't mind. I'm hot anyway."

"Suit yourself," Arthur says nonchalantly, but you can feel his eyes on you as you slide the fabric down your legs.

Arthur looks away again when you sit, but your skin still prickles, and you wonder how much more of this you can take. Playing freaking Uno shouldn't be this hot.

Lucky for you, you get a good hand, and despite your lack of concentration, Arthur's the one who has to get rid of his pants next. You try your best not to stare at his junk but fail miserably. Suddenly you're very concerned about what could happen next. Arthur must think the same.

"Glad we locked the door," Arthur grunts, "I don't need strangers looking at my junk."

"I'm a stranger, too, aren't I?"

"You called me gorgeous; you can do whatever you want," Arthur says.

You know he's joking, but that doesn't stop your brain from imagining things you could do to or with him. That very pleasing but also distracting train of thought loses you your shirt in the next round. Still, Arthur's the one who has to get rid of his underwear first.

This time, you have the decency to look away until he sits down again, and the red on Arthur's cheeks is back.

"So, what now?" he asks. "Can't exactly take off more if I lose."

After what you just thought about, your brain seems to have lost all sensible ideas, and you blurt out the first thing on your mind. "Truth or dare."

Arthur chuckles. "Really? And next up is 'spin the bottle?'"

"Hey, we're playing strip Uno," you huff, "you really want to get judgemental on me now?"

"Alright, alright, 'truth or dare' it is. Just deal."

You deal the cards with butterflies taking flight in your stomach. You don't even know what to ask or dare Arthur, but the alternative is to get naked yourself. Either way, you're in trouble.

The round goes on and on, both of you putting on more cards rather than losing them, but then the game turns in Arthur's favor until he forgets to say Uno. You have better luck then, finally winning the round.

This time, it's you who tries to offer a way out. "Look, you don't have-"

"No, no, that's what we agreed on," Arthur says, waving his fingers at you. "Come on, ask."

"Alright, truth, or dare?"

Arthur studies you for a moment, his gaze so intense that a cold shiver runs down your spine. "Dare."

All kinds of stupid things run through your mind, but you don't want to make Arthur look foolish, especially in front of anybody else. You want to keep him all to yourself.

"I dare you not to move, no matter what."

Arthur raises his eyebrows in surprise but stays deliberately still. You take all your courage and crawl over to him, scattering the cards without a second thought.

When you reach Arthur, you run your cheek along his one like a cat before placing soft kisses along his neck. You hear him take in a sharp breath, but he doesn't move.

You look up to him, and he keeps still as you move closer, your lips hovering so close to his that you can feel his breath. It takes all your willpower not to kiss him, but you're still playing after all.

"Your turn," you say, looking right into Arthur's eyes. They're a nice shade of blue but with an almost golden circle in the middle.

"Truth or dare?" Arthur asks.

"Dare," you say way too fast.

Arthur's lip twitches into a smile, but he still doesn't move. "I dare you to come closer."

You crawl into Arthur's lap, very aware of the fact that only a tiny piece of fabric keeps you apart. With your arms around Arthur's neck, you make yourself comfortable, but your faces are still inches apart.

"Truth or dare?" you ask.

"The truth is that I didn't say Uno on purpose," Arthur says. You believe him, which means that he wanted for this little game to start.

"Trickery," you say, running your fingers through his hair, "how very naughty of you. I think that entitles me to dare you again."

"Sounds fair."

You move even closer, your fingers teasing Arthur's neck. "I dare you to touch me."

Arthur places his hands on your knees before running them up to your thighs. You get goosebumps all over your skin and can't help that you fidget a little. The friction takes its toll on Arthur. You can feel him pressing up against you while he runs his hands up along your body.

"Truth or dare?" he asks, his fingers dancing over your back.

"Truth. I want you to kiss me."

Arthur caresses your shoulders while he looks at you, his fingers climbing your neck in slow motion. The touch makes you shiver, but you stay right where you are, letting Arthur cup your face with his hands. Only when there's a barely-there pull, you move, finally closing the gap between you and Arthur.

You can't remember the last time someone kissed you this gently, and you melt against Arthur, promising yourself to stay in his lap for as long as you possibly can.

Arthur deepens the kiss, the taste, and warmth of him making you forget where you are until there's a harsh knock on the door.

"Hey, Y/N? You in there? It's me."

You feel like being doused with ice water, and your fingers dig harshly into Arthur's shoulders.

"Who's that?" he whispers, worry in his expression.

"My ex," you whisper back.

"Come on, let's talk," comes the voice from outside.

Arthur raises his eyebrows in question, and you immediately shake your head, so he tilts his head to face the door. "Do you mind? We're trying to hook up in here."

There's silence, and you bite your lip so you won't laugh. Sadly, your ex doesn't give up that easily. "Who is this?"

"It's Arthur; you might want to remember that name the next time you skulk around somebody's apartment."

It's silent again, then your ex clears their throat. "Just call me, okay? We can talk about this?"

You look at Arthur, slightly shaking your head, so you both stay quiet until you're sure your ex is gone. Arthur leans back with a sigh, resting his head against the couch. "That was not a turn on."

"I'm sorry," you say, running your fingers over his beard. "Like I said - annoying."

Arthur watches the ceiling for a bit before he takes your hands, threading your fingers together. "You know, I have an apartment, too. No exes hanging around that one."

You laugh. "Getting me naked here doesn't mean you can get me naked over there."

"I just borrow these cards, and we'll see what happens."

He kisses you again, and you have to admit to yourself that you'd rip your clothes off in an instant if he asked you to. You still act like you need to be persuaded. "Fine, you may take me there and try again. You might lose, though."

Arthur smiles. "I'll take that risk."

Getting dressed has never been such a thrill for you. Maybe the new year wasn't so bad after all.

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #my writing #rdr2 modern au #fulfilled requests #fangirl-ramblings

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dennou-translations · 4 years

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Violet Evergarden Booklet 1

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That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case.

Ann Magnolia and Her Nineteenth Birthday

There was a number of things I had to do on the special day called today.

I would wake up in the morning and check the weather. As if a tale were beginning, I would turn the curtains over and look outside the window.

The radiant daylight shone on my eyes. Today was sunny. Knowing that made me happy. That I had woken up enveloped in sunshine. That I didn’t have to worry about my letter getting drenched in rain. It was almost as if the truth of these facts was blessing the day.

——I’m happy.

Very happy.

I didn’t usually say this, but I felt like saying it today, so I whispered as I laid back down, “Good morning.”

Husky with wake, my voice echoed through the quiet bedroom. I wandered around in search for someone to have a conversation with from the words “good morning”. However, I couldn’t find anyone to hear them, so they pointlessly vanished somewhere.

If you were just by yourself, words would die as soon as they were born. I knew that as the truth of this world. Like flowers that withered without changing colors, like small birds that couldn’t endure the coldness of midwinter, my words would promptly die. After all, words were tools for people to communicate their intentions. So if there was no other party, they would all but die. That was evident.

There was no one who would reply to me with a “good morning”. There was no one in this house that would do a morning greeting, so if anyone were to say that this much was obvious, it sure was. But in my memories, someone whose voice I had already forgotten would return my words. In a warm and soft voice that was probably how my mother sounded, they would be returned to me.

“Good morning, Ann.”

——Good morning.

“Today is a special day, huh.”

——I know; I’d been counting them with my fingers.

“Your long-awaited birthday.”

With a nod, I stood up.

Today, I was turning nineteen. Twelve years had passed since I had been left all by myself when I was seven years old. I reflected thoroughly upon that reality alone and proudly.

I left my bedroom still wearing a negligee, heading to the spiral staircase. There were portraits hanging in rows from the staircase’s wall.

“My, you’re going outside dressed like this just because you’re at home?”

Decorated with pictures of family members, the wall used to be terrifying for me when I was a child, but it became less so after my mother was added to them. I would go up and down those stairs countless times every day, but the only spot that I would end up directing my gaze to for a few seconds was the portrait of my mother and my childhood self.

If, by any chance, there was strength to the thing called “love”, I thought, if there was a force residing within love, wouldn’t this image start moving one day, since it was the only one I looked at as if I were yearning for something?

I would end up embracing such fantasies.

“I won’t change, no matter how much you stare at me. By the way, doesn’t my complexion look a little bad in this portrait? I should have had more paint put over it.”

Of course, it was just a fabrication.

Having come down the stairs, I went to the front entrance, its door a little worn-out. I should call a repairer. The house was a living being just like me, and since it was already quite old, it was always broken somewhere.

“I also want you to tend to the garden. When was the last time you held a broom?”

As I came outside, I could see this place’s whole scenery. There was nothing but lush grassland and tree-lined roads. The idyllic sight was awfully boring, but above that, it was beautiful, so if you made a frame with your fingers, you would immediately have a scenic picture. In this entire area, there were no other houses in sight. Of course. This territory was under the control of the Magnolias, hence this view belonged to me, the family head.

As long as I didn’t sell or give it away, this landscape would never change. And, same as the previous family heads, I didn’t wish for it to change. Neither did I wish to leave this place. Even if I was all by myself.

“Ann, let’s take a look inside the mailbox.”

I took a look inside the mailbox. Perhaps because it was still early in the morning, there was nothing in it yet.

“It’ll surely be coming soon.”

Today was the day when I, Ann Magnolia, was born. Every year on my birthday, I would get letters from my late mother. Letters from my mother, who by now had become a portrait, would be delivered to me.

“There is no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

To be precise, letters with my mother’s feelings blown into them and ghostwritten by an Auto-Memories Doll would be delivered to me. It was a strange story, but a true one.

“Auto-Memories Doll”. Long had passed ever since this name caused a stir.

The creator was an authority in the field of mechanical dolls, Professor Orlando. His wife, Molly, was a novelist, and all had begun with the posterior loss of her eyesight. He then invented a machine to perform ghostwriting for his beloved wife and named it Auto-Memories Doll. Nowadays, people who worked as ghostwriters were also called Auto-Memories Dolls.

When I was seven, my mother, who was plagued with a serious illness, summoned a beautiful blue-eyed Auto-Memories Doll to our manor. She made her write several letters and hired a postal company to deliver them to me even after her death. She had been secretly planning out a few decades worth of birthday messages for her beloved daughter.

The person who had made this request was an oddball, but the ones who had accepted the job were quite odd themselves. Had they not imagined that someone would abandon it at some point? Had they sealed the contract for such a heavy, troublesome work without any refusal because they were horribly bad at their business, or was it because they were too nice? Having grown into a creditable lady and come to understand the world to a certain extent, I would ponder about such things. Surely, it was because they were nice. Thanks to them, even though I didn’t have a single relative now, at least on my birthday I could recall what being loved by someone felt like.

Just like that, I stood fidgety in front of the mailbox. Closing my eyes, I cleared off the dust on the box of my memories.

——I remember. That she had come around. That she would be over there, quietly writing letters. I remember the figure of that person and of my smiling mother. Surely, until I died...

That few-days’ time had been seared into my mind. Back then, my... Back then, Ann Magnolia’s frizzy hair was still short, and she was selfish and pretended to be taller. She was a helpless child. A very young one. How old she was? Seven years old. An age where one would still long for their mother. Her mother was the center of the world. If her mother died, she wouldn’t even be able to breathe. She was that kind of child. She was aware that her emotions were unstable and that she tended to act a little rashly.

Most people would treat someone like me nicely, and that was it. People who had their eyes on my fortune attempted to get close to me, but once they noticed that I had no intention to let them do so, they never showed their faces to me again.

That person—that person... Violet Evergarden. That Auto-Memories Doll was a bit different from other people, I thought...

Whenever I wondered what was so different about her, I would find myself thinking.

Back then, Ann Magnolia had fallen in love with a mysterious girl who had come around all of a sudden. It was a little girl’s romantic love out of adoration. She both hated and liked the Auto-Memories Doll who had come around out of the blue and stolen her time with her mother.

——What was it that I liked about her?

She was a taciturn and unsociable. A silent porcelain doll. She seemed extremely adult-like. But looking back, she often reacted like a child who knew nothing. Even when I gave her dolls, she didn’t know how to play. Neither did she have any knowledge of how to solve riddles. Even when I made her touch bugs, she never ran away like my mother or our maid. Whenever I invited her to join hands and spin around, we would do it to no end.

“Fufu...”

She was a weird person. Yes, a weird one.

Children would look at adults and measure them by whether they were scary or foolish, would be their allies or enemies, would give them candy or not, and other such things. They would stare very, very fixatedly and judge the grown-ups.

She... that beautiful Auto-Memories Doll... Violet Evergarden was not an adult.

——Yes, she was... how should I put it? She was Violet Evergarden.

Which was why I had snuggled up to her, the same type of person as myself, just like two cats nestling close to each other, I thought.

She was a beautiful child. A beautiful beast. I found her eccentric self to be cool, so I liked her.

Where was she now and what was she doing, I wondered.

I was turning nineteen, but back in the day, she must have been younger than I am now. For her to have prosthetic arms, it wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened to her at the time, when the war had just ended. But surely, there was no doubt that her life had been full of many more ups and downs than the story I had in mind.

Did she not express her emotions enough because she was carrying some sort of wound in her heart? She was such a beautiful person, so she must have won over the heart of some wonderful person by now...

I shook my head left and right. I mustn’t have unjust suspicions of her. I shouldn’t prod into how I was back then – into the Ann Magnolia of back then – and taint it. Even if it was just me with myself, I mustn’t do that. Because all of the joys and sorrows from that time belonged to the old me, who had endured those days. Having become an adult, I shouldn’t have any say over the mental landscape of my old self, as a third party.

Having grown up, I observed my own land, which spread out endlessly. The scent of gently swaying grass and flowers, the chattering of birds, the clouds that moved slowly in the blue sky. It felt like they would be here just like that for a hundred more years.

“It’s not coming, huh. Let’s go eat breakfast.”

Since the postman wasn’t showing up, I had no choice but go back into the manor.

I had been working at home lately. I used to go outside and enjoy the world when I was a student, but I realized that, in the end, I liked being in my house. Maybe this was a Magnolia bloodline thing.

As for my from-home job, I worked with legal counseling. When I was little, I had experienced disputes amongst my own relatives over me and my assets. That was the reason why, if I had to give any.

My mother had left me with a talented legal advisor. A person of outstanding character, who still concerned himself with me even now. As a young child, I excelled at catching insects that I had never seen before, but I didn’t have the means to oppose to the people who wanted to steal this land from me one way or another.

I had started off working at the city’s legal information center, introduced to me by the legal advisor, who had taken me in, and only recently had I become independent. Living in the city had made me realize many things. That there were many people in this world who weren’t protected like me. And that this wasn’t something those people themselves wanted, but things had turned out in such a way due to the environment they were in.

The ascension of the ghostwriting business had a similar background. Children would be made to work like adults, unable to go to school, so when they grew up and had to sign any documents, they couldn’t even write their own names.

People like that, who had been raised in environments where no one helped them, weren’t a rarity. I had heard that the literacy rate was currently rising, but it would still take a long time for this to become something unusual.

Just like with ghostwriting, one could become somebody’s ally through the law. It was especially necessary for children who had been thrown out like me and younglings who were about to enter the world of adults, I believed. Because they could earn completely different futures as a result if they acquired knowledge.

“The law is a weapon,” my legal advisor would say. I agreed with that. My property had been protected by this weapon many times. Some people would say that education was the weapon, but the situations for putting it to use were too limited. Weapons exerted their true value exactly when you had to protect yourself from falling victim to unjust acts or insults.

If possible, I wanted to be someone who could protect others. I wanted to tell people who didn’t know what to do and had become incapable of even walking on their own, “It’s all right; I’ll be your ally”. Because I wanted someone to do that for me back when I was alone.

My reason for choosing law was rooted in this kind of self-righteous way of thinking.

Since I worked from home, I didn’t earn much. To be honest, people would think that being a professional was a pastime for a landowning wealthy lady. I was fine with that.

The people who came to visit me in this remote place were generally in critical situations and had nothing. Those who had something would go to the city. They would go to the city, bow their heads to some famous person, be served a fine brand of tea... and have a graceful conversation while drinking it.

If I could, I wanted to get close to people, just like her. Just like the Auto-Memories Doll who had told me on that day that it was okay to cry. Even if for self-satisfaction.

Speaking of which, I thought as I checked the calendar. Today was my birthday, so I intended to wait for the postman the whole day and hadn’t scheduled any appointments, but a client was coming tomorrow. I should clean up the reception room at least a little.

“Hey, Ann. It is your birthday, so how about going outside with your friends and having a meal with them?”

I had to sweep the floor, take the garbage off the carpet and dust the dirt on the furniture.

“Even just eating something tasty is enough, Ann.”

Right, I should bake some sweets to serve to the costumer tomorrow. It could also be used as celebration for my birthday.

“Ann, aren’t you lonely all by yourself?”

If I was certain, that person had eaten the sweets I baked when we first met with relish. He had a sweet tooth.

As I recalled the figure of that young entrepreneur eating, looking embarrassed and delighted, a smile surfaced naturally. Out of the people that I was currently engaging with, he might be the one whose visit I looked forward to the most. I did think that men were frowny and sullen creatures, but he was adorable.

I rolled up my sleeves with an “all right” and headed to the kitchen.

“Delivery.”

As the front door’s bell rang and the voice of a visitor ensued, I frantically flung away my bowl and whisk and ran. This is what happens when you distractedly make sweets for about an hour. I was covered in flour and looking unbecoming, but there was no helping it.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

I opened the door in high spirits, and standing there was a postman wearing the uniform of the city’s post office, which I was familiar with. I was disappointed enough that even I myself would think it was a bit childish of me. The other didn’t see my facial expression as he requested my signature for the express delivery without looking at me, but I wound up having an impolite attitude.

——It wasn’t the CH Postal Company.

My mother’s birthday messages were being kept by the CH Postal Company, a mail company that had its main office located in Leiden – the capital of Leidenschaftlich, a southernmost military nation. Therefore, if a different company had come, then the mail wasn’t from my mother.

“Thank you very much.”

I had received three packages. One was a table clock from my legal advisor. The others were accessories and a shawl that were trending in the city from my friends.

There were people getting married and having children upon turning nineteen. All of my closest friends had been quick to marry. Both my opinion that secluding themselves in their homes was a waste in this era of professional women and my envy at the fact that they had found themselves a partner in an early stage of their lives coexisted in the depths of my mind.

“You don’t have to hurry; if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

Having lost my mother, with this vast land and this manor of excessively elegant exterior in my possession... I couldn’t think that having a family wouldn’t be a good thing.

——Family... family... family, huh?

Did I want a family? Did I really? Those genuine questions surfaced in my mind first-thing.

Welcoming a family would mean welcoming that person’s life. It was an extremely heavy choice. “In health and sickness,” people would lightheartedly say. I believed there were actually few people who properly understood it.

My friends who had married. The people who walked around the city. Lovers and family members from all over the world – everyone. Did they all truly understand? They only looked on the happy side, so could they endure it when a sad scenario arrived upon them? Wouldn’t they end up thinking that not loving the other person would have been better?

“Human beings are creatures that love others in pursuit of happiness, Ann.”

In my experience, since I had seen off the person who was most important to me, the truth was that I didn’t want to go through it ever again. Being told to do it one more time was too hard. Even twenty years later, painful things would be painful.

I brought my consciousness back to reality.

Colorful ribbons, extravagant wrappings and wonderful gifts. As my social disposition was coming to a slight halt, those people were irreplaceable to me. I had to write thank-you notes right away. For these kinds of things, the faster, the better. Because it conveyed sincerity.

I should go back to my bedroom and look for the stationery and envelopes. They were surely somewhere there.

“Ann.”

——Aah, but was it a pretty stationery?

Maybe I should choose a different one, fitting of these wonderful presents.

“Ann, listen.”

They were surely items that took a while to be picked, so I should respond to the other party’s feelings the same way. There were many things to be watchful of here. I had to do it quick. I had to do it soon.

“Please listen.”

Nobody else was going to do it; I was the one who had to. No matter what, I had to do it. I had to taste joy and sadness all by myself and end it fast. Because I was alone. Hurry. I had to hurry and do it.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t move.

“Ann.”

I was in the middle of making sweets, and writing thank-you notes required some preparation. Above all, I couldn’t calm down until my mother’s letter arrived.

Giving several reasons, I made up several excuses not to move.

“Ann... it’s okay.”

I suddenly felt exhausted. Everything became a bother. Even though hands were covered in flour and I was still wearing an apron, I lay on the couch, rolled into fetal position and scrunched down.

Although I had received such marvelous gifts, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. Even though it was something to be grateful for to the point I could be in a good mood the whole day, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. It didn’t last.

“Ann, it’s okay.”

Today was that kind of day.

“Ann, don’t force yourself; I’m sorry.”

——I’m sorry.

“Sorry...”

——I’m sorry.

“Ann, I’m sorry...”

To me, my birthday was...

“...for leaving you behind when you were so small.”

...not my day. It was my mother’s.

——Mom. Why? Just why? Why, Mom? Why did you die sooner than the mothers of the other kids? What is it that went wrong? Did the fact that I was born itself become a burden to you? If so, then I shouldn’t have been born.

I loved you, Mom. Did you know that? I liked you a whole, whole lot. Tired of hearing this? But you didn’t know it, right? Even if you knew, you probably didn’t understand how much I liked you. I’m sure you had no idea how much.

When I realized it, I had more time seeing you in a grave than otherwise. But you’re everywhere in our house. On the sofa that you often sat on. In the music that you enjoyed. On the bed that still smells like you. In myself, who resembles you more and more with each day.

Mom, Mom, Mom – you keep reminding me of how much I loved you. When I was little, you were the world itself.

Mom. You loved me. I know that. But I loved you too. I was the one who... I was... I was... I was the one who...

Aah, Mom. Mom, there are so many things I want to tell you. But if I can say it, there’s just one thing.

Mom, you died without knowing how much I loved you, right?

I loved you much more than you could’ve imagined. I really, really suffered when you died. Enough that I couldn’t breathe.

People often say that time heals all wounds. But I really hate that saying. Rather than things being solved, we forget about them, don’t we? People’s voices, facial expressions, gestures – we forget these kinds of things. Yet I remember them in unexpected times. Like, “Oh, yeah, Mom used to like this”. “Oh, yeah, Mom used to hate that”. And then I blame myself vehemently for forgetting them. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your whole world”. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your only family”. The loop of agony has no end.

I adored you, Mom. I loved you. I loved you, so for just as much love as I had for you, it feels like my heart will break. It feels like my heart will break every time my birthday comes around. Feels like it will break. It’s painful and there’s no helping it.

Tears slip down my cheeks as I laid on my side. I was looking forward to today so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself, and yet I wound up crying again this year. I would’ve been great if I could welcome it with a smile.

A birthday was a special day.

It was nothing to the rest of the world, just an ordinary day, but it was a special one for me. Because... Because it was a day when I could feel Mom coming back to me. I looked forward to it so much that I couldn’t help myself, but at the same time, I was also helplessly sad. Because I felt my mother’s absence more than anything. Because the truth that she wasn’t here was thrust onto me.

Destiny spoke to me. Either that or God did. “Hey, your mother’s already dead. How long you gonna be crying? Stand up. If you’re alive, stand up.”

Since the world was so merciless, all I could do was nod at those words and say, “Yes, yes, true.”

By entrusting my body to hecticness, I was able to remain as someone who could stand on her own feet, just like Destiny and God wanted. I normally didn’t feel loneliness. I didn’t cry. After all, twelve years had already passed. It was weird to cry like this on and on forever. It was weird, right? I wasn’t a kid anymore. I shouldn’t cry too much. That would make me a bad girl. A girl wasn’t suitable to be the family head of the Magnolia household. I had to become a person who my mother could be proud of from within that portrait.

Wasn’t that right? I couldn’t prove the worth of my existence by doing anything else.

But on this day when I was aware that my mother loved me, I was no good. No good. I’d turn into a mess. The seven-year-old Ann Magnolia would come back to me. She’d say it all. She’d end up saying it. Always, always, always. She’d say what I was holding back from saying.

“I’m lonely”, that is.

I had as many ways of spending my birthday as I had birthdays. Surely, there were millions of people in the world whose birthday was today. How were all of them spending it? Were they spending it in a fulfilling way? There definitely were also people who lived their lives either not knowing when their birthday was or forgetting about it.

So I wasn’t miserable. Nor was I comparing myself with them. That wasn’t it. Because there were certainly people somewhere around the world who were feeling as lonely as me.

There was another thing that I had learned during the time I worked in the city. That loneliness wasn’t something only I had. Many people would come to the law firm and ask for advice regarding their troubles. Everyone was burdened with problems of their own. And everyone was a bit lonely in some aspect. It wasn’t just me, so I didn’t feel lonely.

That person too, and that one, and that other one. Everybody was sad in one way or another.

“I have to get up.”

I had stopped doing what I would do by accident – stopped throwing myself into a sea of sadness. The sea of sadness in my head was a real nuisance, yet it was also comfortable as it enveloped my body in gentle waves of self-pity. But I shouldn’t go too far. Or else I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. It wasn’t like food and sweets would materialize from my sadness.

I counted the things I had to do. Bake sweets. Clean up. I had a number of torn aprons, which I would remake into rags. And then... And then...

“Madam Magnolia, are you home?”

A real-life happening immediately pulled me out of my reverie. I ran toward the front door, from where the voice had come. As I opened the door with much vigor while making extremely improper heavy-feet noises, I found two visitors.

“Hum?”

One of them was... Aah, I was waiting for you. It was a postman wearing the CH Postal Company uniform. He was holding under his arm a letter and a package with what was most likely the gift that my mother had arranged for today.

“Aah, excuse me. Please go first.”

The other was the customer who had made an appointment reservation for tomorrow. A stray young entrepreneur. His finely tailored clothes were easy to recognize as something not order-made and that he didn’t like but was wearing regardless.

Had he mistaken the appointment day?

“Erm, then...”

The two had bumped onto each other at the front gate and both had some business with me, so they were probably conceding the turn to one another. Having been granted it, the CH Postal Company’s postman stood before me, politely giving me the letter and present with a slightly tensed-up countenance.

“This is the CH Postal Company. I have come to bring your delivery... You might be already tired of hearing this vocal message so many times, but happy birthday this year too, Madam Magnolia.”

That was a postman I had never seen before. It was a different person from last year.

“T-Tired, you say... There’s no way I would ever be.”

Still, the fact he was saying these lines meant that the demands commissioned by my mother were being properly kept and protected by that company. That was it.

“Thank you very much. For every year, truly... truly. Please tell this to your chairman too.”

“Y-Yes! Our president is the kind of person that gets very happy at inputs from the clients, so I’ll make sure to tell him!”

I had never met the president of the CH Postal Company, but for someone so young to be talking about him in such a familiar-sounding way, he had to be a wonderful person.

“I’m taking it.”

I signed the acceptance document. The postman laughed as if relieved. Also relieved, I finally looked seriously at him. He was a very young postman. Perhaps from about the same generation as me. The freckled boy looked even younger when laughing.

“I became in charge of it this year. It’s a big area, so I ended up getting a bit lost... I made you wait a lot, didn’t I?”

“Eh, no, no.”

“But you came running as if you were eagerly waiting for it.”

“Yes.”

Recalling the surprised faces of the two young men the moment I had opened the door, I trembled with shame. I was supposed to behave elegant and beautifully as the head of the Magnolia family. Yet I was covered in flour, my hair was disheveled because I had been lying down and I had showed up with footsteps that sounded like the ones of a large man.

Touching my cheeks, which were most likely growing red, I said, “I apologize for showing you an embarrassing sight... No matter what, I always wind up restless on this day.”

“Absolutely not. I’m the one who is sorry for coming late. I have already perfectly memorized the way, so please treat me well next year too.” The postman bowed with a “well, then” and ran toward a parked motorcycle.

After seeing him off, I directed my gaze at the other visitor that had been waiting for me. He, too, slowly looked my way.

“Hello.”

The morning sunshine had disappeared, a dazzling midday light filling up for it. It seemed that quite some time had passed while I was sulking on the couch. With a season of fresh green colors as the background, he was supposed to be a foreign body for me... and for this world of mine, yet he blended appallingly well into it.

“Hello.” My voice sounded a little shrill. “Isn’t there any flour on my face?” As I said this while rubbing my cheeks with the sleeve of my dress, he took a handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to me.

Not minding me as I stiffened up in shock, he said with an earnest attitude, “There is, right here.”

“Ah, all right.”

“And here too.”

“I’m sorry. I was making sweets...”

Wiping myself with the neatly folded handkerchief, it almost seemed like I had gone back to being a child. It was the second time today that my cheeks were dyed red.

“Well, what is your matter...?”

“Aah, that’s right. I was nearby and... hum, I heard from Mr. Robert, the one who introduced you to me, that it was your birthday today, so... though it’s presumptuous of me, I was thinking about celebrating it...”

Robert was the law advisor who had been protecting me since my childhood. Now that he had mentioned it, I remembered that he was introduced to me by Robert. The budget wasn’t compatible with the case, so it had been passed over to me.

——“Nearby”?

Finding a strange point in a part of his story, I said timidly, “This whole area... is my land... You had business near here?”

Silence.

“You’re also seeing Mr. Robert even though you’re working with me...?”

He raised a hand my way as if to ask me to wait and averted his face, looking embarrassed. Had I said anything bad?

“I take it back.”

“All right.”

“I lied... I wanted, hum, to spend time with you somehow...”

“Haah...”

Perhaps having become unable to look at me in the eyes, he kept his face turned away and continued speaking to the direction of the day after tomorrow, “Mr. Robert is a teatime friend from a café that I already frequented... He introduced you to me as a favor... And I heard from him the other day that today was your birthday. Also, I did not just happen to come nearby. It’s impossible to come here without a car or carriage. I do not have much money, so I ended up walking the way here. But it was no coincidence; I came here because I had an objective.”

As I asked, “What’s the objective”, he turned over the palm that had been telling me to wait and showed it to me. That “it’s you”.

I was perplexed. This kind of thing hadn’t happened in my life very often. When it did, it was usually people aiming for my fortune, so I vaguely wondered if he was the same as them.

“Want to come in? If it’s just drinking tea together, then...”

In any case, as the head of the Magnolia family, I had to entertain the guest. After this thought worked its way to me, an alarm sounded in my head that he might deem this as an invitation. That wasn’t my intention, so what should I do if he believed it was?

——What’s up with me? I don’t know if I’m happy or scared.

Aah, my heartbeats were so loud. My cheeks were so hot it felt like they were burning.

——Anyway, I have to say something.

“Hum.”

As I hesitated to speak, he shook his head. “Ah, no. I will have to come again tomorrow, so I’m going home. I have already accomplished my objective.”

“Is that so?” I was a tad out of tune. A little – very relieved.

I observed him while he didn’t try to look at me even a bit. His hands were trembling. Even though he gave off an easygoing impression, he was the type of person who couldn’t hide what was inside.

“I really just came here because I wanted to wish you happy birthday. Just before coming, I hesitated a lot on whether to go today or not... I also don’t have... any presents worthy of a lady like you, so I wanted to at least say these words.”

That sentence surprised my already stunned self even more. “At least these words”, he said. Were there any words that could make his goodwill more obvious?

“I’m sorry. I should have at least arranged something for you, right? Really, a broke man like me showing up out of nowhere... I’m sorry...”

“No, I don’t want material things that much... I prefer this feeling of... wanting to celebrate because it’s my birthday... much more...”

The words cut off midway. What happened to me? Right now, pain and joy were squeezing my chest tightly. It was suffocating.

The easily perceivable love of this person in front of me, as well as his kindness, his sincerity and all these other soft and warm things were appearing in the lonely parts of me and causing me to feel dizzy.

“Ann, can you hear me?”

I had to regain my sanity; I would surely be sober again tomorrow. I shouldn’t open my heart so easily now.

“Ann, please, listen.”

Because the world was cruel. Even if I fell in love with him, sad things were bound to happen.

“Okay? If you’re listening...”

It might be a calculated love; he could just be pretending and was actually a horrible person.

No, I had to wonder about that. It was indeed true that he came the way here on foot. After all, his shoes were dirty with mud. There was grass sticking to it as if he gone through an animal trail.

“If you’re listening, grab onto it.”

Aah, Mom. From now on, I would surely keep questioning you over and over during times like these. Asking you questions in my mind. “Mom, is this correct? Is this the right path,” I would ask. Because you were the only one who had given me love without second intentions. So please, give me an answer.

“Believe in yourself, Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.”

I was sure that the vision of my mother had whispered this to me.

I reached out with my hand. I reached out and grabbed the hem of his jacket.

“I’m going to bake sweets now. Today is my birthday, but I don’t have any plans, so if you’d like, why don’t we eat the baked sweets together outside? I don’t need anything. If you’re going to give me something, then I want just a bit of time for us to celebrate my birthday together,” I told him.

“Thanks.” He was not unkind to my wheat flour-covered hand, grasping it while his face went bright red. “That’d be great,” he said three or so times. The phrase “I like sweet foods” was probably said five times.

I... I found it so funny that I laughed.

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case. But I put in a little effort. I tried making it special on my own. From this point onward, I would definitely keep doing that. I would. I was all alone in this manor. But I was the most special girl in the world to a certain person. It was okay to indulge myself at least on my birthday. I thought this once again reading my mother’s letter later.

Ann, congratulations on your nineteenth birthday. I can’t imagine how you’re doing at nineteen years of age. I really wonder how you’re doing. Are you well? Aren’t you going hungry? I wonder if you became a wonderful lady. Aah, I want to see it. I truly wanted to see it. You have no idea how much I love you, do you? You see, Mom loves the nineteen-year-old you. I’ll love you even as you turn a hundred years old. I can’t tell you face-to-face, so I’m properly writing it here. I love you. No matter what anyone says, I love you. You have the right to be loved. My Ann, be free. My Ann, laugh with joy. My Ann, be happy. My Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.

—From Mom

“There’s no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

#violet evergarden #veedit #fyeahvioletevergarden #kyoani #kyoto animation #ann magnolia #clara magnolia #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #novel #my translation #violet evergarden booklet

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iloveyou3thousand · 4 years

Text

what he’d been missing

Pairing: Starker Rating: Explicit Word count: 2668 A/N: This was written for the @starkerkink Kink Exchange, for @iammagicfishhook who asked for some monsterfucking. I really hope you like it!!

Tags/TWs: explicit sexual content, werewolf Tony and human Peter, werewolf sex, werewolf anatomy, belly bulge, knotting, rimming, bottom Peter

Read it on AO3 here!

—————————————————————————

It had taken them a little while, but they had finally figured it out.

Before they had gotten together, Peter had one day found out that Tony wasn’t like most people he knew. It had been entirely by accident, had happened only because Peter had been up later than usual working on a project. By chance, his extra sensitive hearing had picked up on something stalking the compound and he’d gone to investigate, only to find a large beast roaming the compound grounds.

That could have been that. The compound was in the middle of nowhere, after all, surrounded by woods that stretched for miles upon miles – the animal could have stumbled upon the building and gone to investigate.

Peter had quickly found out that the intruder hadn’t come from elsewhere, though. He’d come from within.

Weeks later, after dancing around each other for months with neither of them brave enough or confident enough to be the one to take the first real step forward, they got together with a kiss that was about as accidental as Peter finding out that Tony was a werewolf.

Tony allowed Peter to be nearby during his shifts, from that moment on. Peter had already seen him change before, had been near in the past, had seen him and approached him and gotten to know him a little better, in a sense. But now that they were together, it felt almost like it was more serious. Like being there during the full moon carried more weight than it did before.

And it did. Unbeknownst to the both of them, at least at first, the fact that Peter was there almost every time Tony shifted, changed something in the wolf’s biology. He had always responded differently to Peter, but that was only getting worse with every shift. On the outside, it didn’t appear like it had changed much, but on the inside, every time Tony shifted, he grew more and more restless to the point where even Peter started to notice it in his behavior.

Tony would always come up to Peter and push his head against the younger man’s hand for some quick affection, but that grew into a firmer push, a more demanding gesture, with Tony not leaving until he’d nearly pushed Peter to his ass and could rub himself against the other without fear of Peter getting away.

He also started grooming Peter, almost as if he were one of his own, as if he were a wolf, too. Or he would get snappy at anything and everything that could possibly pose a threat to Peter, from a little wild rabbit showing its little face at the edge of the woods to Happy’s car returning from the city to bring Pepper back and forth even just passing them by.

Peter tried not to think about it too much, but the growling and the protectiveness and the restlessness grew worse and worse every time, to the point where he just had to bring it up with Tony.

It took them a while and some help from Bruce to figure out that since getting together, Tony’s hormones had been all over the place. It’s what had been causing the change in his attitude, and the fierce protectiveness. According to the tests they’d done, Tony already viewed Peter as his true mate, even though that connection could never be truly mutual because Peter was human and he didn’t have the kind of senses to pick up on and return that.

At least it helped them in finding a solution.

Going forward, they started trying whatever they could to reassure Tony’s wolf that Peter was his and his alone, and that nothing would ever come in between them or sever the bond they had built. It seemed to work at first, with Tony calming down and resting quite peacefully with Peter during another one of his shifts, but then it came back again. And it came back with twice the force.

When it started to get potentially dangerous for Peter, they both knew that they were approaching desperate times, and thus would have to try and implement some desperate measures.

Luckily, Peter still had a little trick up his sleeve.

When he told Tony, Tony was skeptical. He was worried, for Peter, afraid of hurting him. But Peter countered wisely that if they didn’t try this as a last resort, if this didn’t work, then Tony would end up hurting Peter on accident anyway without there being anything that could stop him. That terrified Tony more than anything else.

All in all, Peter’s plan seemed like the lesser of two evils. (Actually, it didn’t seem like a bad idea at all, but Tony refused to admit that the thought of mounting Peter properly got him so riled up that he had to excuse himself every time he even so much as thought about it.)

The following full moon, they were all set.

In the hours leading up to Tony’s inevitable shift, they lay down together. Peter showered Tony in attention that made him visibly preen already, his instincts close to taking over, but the moon wasn’t quite high enough for him just yet. The younger man passed him a bottle of lube and Tony quietly reconfirmed that he was still sure about this. Peter smiled, cupped Tony’s cheek, and kissed him.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he promised, although it didn’t do enough to soothe Tony’s anxiety. He was afraid of hurting Peter, afraid of putting his claws where he shouldn’t, or pushing him too far, or forcing him into something that he didn’t want to do. But Peter had been so reassuring, constantly validating Tony’s feelings and fears and acknowledging that it was going to be scary, but it was going to be alright. They just had to do this once to figure out how it all worked, and then they’d be good as gold.

Tony had to trust his instincts. Hopefully, his instincts would serve him right.

By the time Tony’s skin buzzed beyond discomfort and he’d slowly spread his baby open on his fingers, Peter gave him a kiss and told him to go and do what he had to. Tony’s feet could barely hit the carpet on the floor next to the bed or he’d already shifted, shaking out unruly, brown fur, and immediately catching a whiff of something sallow.

The lube.

His mind took a second to catch up, but then he whipped around, and there Peter was; lying on the bed, watching the wolf on the ground, something scared but excited in his eyes. Beyond that thick smell of artificial slick, Tony could smell Peter, could smell the arousal on him, and it was like something clicked.

This was what he’d been missing.

“Hey Tony,” Peter said softly, almost tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure if Tony’s mind had caught up with the wolf yet, but it had. Intelligent eyes rose to meet the younger man’s gaze, and Peter’s expression eased into a soft smile. Without further ado, while Tony was watching, Peter pushed himself up onto his hands and knees to put himself perfectly on display, almost teasingly.

Tony was on the bed in a flash, the mattress dipping beneath the wolf’s heavy weight. He had to find his balance first, unused to being on the bed in this form, but quickly managed when there was another task at hand.

He immediately pushed his muzzle up against Peter’s hole, slick and shiny with lube, stretched rim twitching gently under the soft puffs of air when Tony scented and snuffled. Peter giggled, and dropped his head to his forearms.

“Tickles,” he complained, but really it was only mildly bothersome because it was new, something Peter had never experienced before, and he wasn’t sure what to expect yet.

Definitely not the broad tongue that followed Tony’s huffy breaths, lapping in one long, broad stroke up Peter’s taint and across his glistening hole. Peter’s breath immediately caught in his throat and he let out a choked sound of surprise, but didn’t try to move away. Once he got past that initial oddness, it actually… It actually felt really good.

He moaned when Tony didn’t hesitate to do it again. And once more after. And yet again. Peter’s cock between his legs had already fully filled out by the time Tony changed tactic by pressing his muzzle up against Peter’s hole and pushing his tongue past the tight ring of muscle and into his body, which opened up and welcomed the intrusion like it was meant to.

Peter shuddered on the spot, cock twitching, the long tongue reaching places inside him that he wasn’t sure anyone had reached before. Not like that. Tony had sure tried, had taken him in his lap and pound into him before, and it had been an otherworldly experience, but even that didn’t compare to this.

And they had only just gotten started.

When Tony was satisfied with the job he’d done and left Peter’s hole sloppy and wet, he moved away, much to Peter’s dissatisfaction. The young man looked over his shoulder to see what Tony was doing, and caught him with his head between his legs, licking at the fiery red length that was slipping out from the sheath at Tony’s lower belly. He lapped at it as if to encourage it, to slick it up, ready to bury it into Peter’s waiting body.

Astounded by the size he’d just laid his eyes upon, Peter turned back when Tony shifted once more, keeping his eyes forward to try and help himself relax once again. Something so big would never fit inside of him. It simply couldn’t. And yet when Tony mounted him, large front paws on either side of Peter’s ribs and his large tongue lapping soothingly against the back of his neck, Peter realized he was just going to have to take it.

“Be gentle,” Peter reminded Tony almost frantically, his voice a higher pitch than usual. Tony paused for a moment, and then licked the back of his ear as if to say ‘I hear you, I’m listening, I promise’. And then Tony lined up.

Peter’s body opened up for the pointed tip of Tony’s cock like it was the easiest thing, the wolf’s saliva easing its way. It was warm, and smooth, and big, but Peter took it silently, wordlessly, without complaint, until the very beginnings of the knot that Tony had warned him about countless of times nudged up against his stretched out rim and the wolf had successfully buried all of himself inside the human.

Peter let out a shuddery sigh, relaxing slowly with the soothing little licks to the back of his neck and his hair. Grooming. Tony had been doing that for a while, and it still helped Peter relax, inexplicably. But right now he couldn’t have been more glad.

Especially when Tony started moving not long after.

And it seemed that once he got a taste of it, that cautious approach he’d started out with was thrown out the window. The first few thrusts were relatively shallow, patient, careful – but Tony sped up quickly, putting that massive strength in his hind legs to good use to force himself in and out of Peter faster, quicker, rougher. Every thrust knocked the air out of Peter’s lungs but the overwhelming pleasure that came with the quickening pace left him without the ability to breathe anyway, so it didn’t matter.

Peter grabbed at the bedsheets, the only leverage he had against the rough thrusts that almost lifted him up off his knees every time, shaking the bedframe. Tony panted into Peter’s ear, hot and humid, occasionally darting his tongue across a stray drop of sweat that gathered on the back of Peter’s neck.

The younger man was useless beneath the wolf, just trying to keep himself on his knees, speared on Tony’s cock, tossed about with the force of the thrusts. He was strong, stronger than most human beings, but he had never felt more like a ragdoll than he did while Tony was fucking into him like that.

And he liked it. God forbid, he liked it so much that he came without touching himself, without even knowing that he did, floating on endless, overwhelming waves of pleasure that every harsh thrust brought with it.

They became more ragged and irregular by the second, and Peter knew that it would soon be over. He already missed it, even though it hadn’t even ended yet. But he was in for one more surprise.

Tony’s knot had already grown to the size of a relatively small apple, sitting at the base of his cock, nudging Peter’s hole with every other thrust, just begging to be let inside. It slipped in occasionally, much to Peter’s pleasure, that sudden, extra stretch and extra couple of inches deep within him rushing him closer and closer to a second orgasm.

And when Tony finally fitted all of it inside of him, and Peter could feel it rapidly start to increase in size, tugging at his already stretched out rim – that’s what did it for him the second time around.

Peter quickly brought a hand down between his legs to stroke himself through his orgasm, moaning and keening and writhing beneath the wolf as the knot grew and grew, sealing them together to be followed up with a load buried so deep inside Peter’s body that it had the younger man feeling more bloated than he ever did before.

He pressed a hand to his stomach, panting, marveling at the feeling, and froze up when he felt the deformation on his belly. He pressed against it, and Tony above him whined, his massive cock twitching inside him and filling him with another load.

Peter smoothed his fingertips over the bulge under his skin again and again, the thought of Tony so deep inside him that it could do that nearly sending him over the edge again, but his cock was still weakly twitching from his last orgasm. Although Peter wouldn’t be surprised if he would be good to go again in seconds. Not with the enormous knot tugging at his abused rim.

The large wolf collapsed on top of Peter, and he groaned under the weight, constricting around Tony. Instantly, Peter noticed the change. He hadn’t seen Tony this sedated, this sated or happy or satisfied in a long time, not while in his wolf form. Not to mention the affection that followed, the grooming and the playfulness, all so unhurried.

Peter praised the wolf softly, reaching a hand over his shoulder to pet his head and compliment him for his behavior and his patience. They were stuck together for a while, but even after, Tony was a different wolf.

He cleaned Peter up and made sure the young man got comfortable before he lay down with him and looked up at him with those big, doe eyes full of adoration, as if their spiritual bond had just been confirmed tenfold.

And really, Peter would be lying if he didn’t…kind of feel it too.

Or maybe he was just seeing things.

“I’d say that worked, didn’t it?” Peter murmured sleepily, combing his hand through Tony’s fur. He received a lick in return, which in wolf speak must have been something agreeable. Peter was sure that if Tony had been able to speak, he would have said so too. And he would have likely suggest they go for another round.

And hell, it only took Peter a little while to recuperate from his first time taking Tony’s wolf cock. Before too long, he was already toying with the sensitive sheath on Tony’s lower belly with a mischievous grin, watching the pointed tip of his cock slip out slowly.

If Tony could have raised his brows, he absolutely would have.

But he’d be crazy if he was going to say no.

#StarkerKink2020 #starker #ironspider #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #tony stark x peter parker #starker fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #werewolf au #nff #aus #tw knotting #tw belly bulge #look at me posting something again wow it's been ages #in my defence i lost my job so I've been busy welp

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Not a request, but a random bonding idea I came up with for my one-shots, so enjoy!! @assanmaharielsreblogs

Michelangelo was making dinner like he always did. While the brothers frequently indulged themselves in pizza and other fast food, that was usually a lunch thing for them. Breakfast and dinner always fell to Michelangelo, just how he liked it. On the odd occasional Michelangelo was hurt or sick or exhausted from a long night out on a mission— too exhausted to get up early or too tired to make dinner— Splinter or Leonardo always substituted (though Leonardo’s substitution was almost always takeout he tried to pass as his own cooking, even when Donatello’s cash count said otherwise. Leonardo always left a generous tip.) Splinter’s cooking wasn’t bad, but it was always some obscure, vaguely familiar dish from his heritage, such as unagi or tempura, that they almost never had all the right ingredients for. Splinter’s supplementation for the missing supplies never really turned out right, though he insisted it tasted just like the real thing. Still, if finances allowed, Donatello always made sure to splurge on supplies at the end of the month so that their father could make the dishes properly and bring some joy to his life. Something to hold onto from his human days.

One time, he remembered, Leonardo had a complaint about the dish Splinter had presented (hiyashi chūka, if Michelangelo was remembering right) and Splinter just about blew a gasket.

“You will eat what I served you..” the old, angry rat had said to his then twelve year old son, “...or you will eat nothing at all!”

Michelangelo carried a similar mentality into his cooking, though he’d always switch to Doctor Feelings before dinner to get everyone’s recommendations, and if they still complained even after the alterations were made, then Doctor Delicate would come out to play.

“Not all of us have your iron stomach, dad.” Twelve year old Leonardo had argued back to his father, to which Donatello had added:

“Only one of us did, actually.”

Then all eyes had turned to thirteen year old Raphael, who was onto his third bowl and was absolutely demolishing it with a savage, starving ferocity.

“RAPH STILL HUNGRY!” The teen had spat before throwing one of their good bowls at the wall, which earned him a time out (and also more soup to keep him content).

But that was then, and this was now. Michelangelo was cooking a new recipe— a four cheese ravioli with marinara sauce and pepperonis. He remembered the New Brothers asking about something called Pizza Gyoza and he wanted to try it out for himself. It didn’t take him long to realize he was being watched. Still with a smile on his face, he turned to meet the spy.

“Hey!”

Mikey gave a yelp and tried to shrink back out of view around the corner. Michelangelo frowned and tilted his head as he left the ingredients to go investigate.

“Hey.” He repeated again, holding a patient hand out to his counterpart, “didja wanna help?”

Mikey seemed surprised by the offer. “I’m not a good cook.”

Michelangelo shrugged. “And I don’t know how to play the tuba— doesn’t stop me from practicing every Sunday night! Just ask Donnie.”

Mikey laughed, and it made Michelangelo smile to see the other him not so scared anymore. Through the laughter, Mikey sputtered out words that Michelangelo couldn’t quite make out, but it seemed to bring the speaker joy so he didn’t mind.

“So?” Michelangelo prompted after the giggle fest had run its course.

Mikey gave a few last giggles before he was still and sad once more. “Are you sure...? You don’t think I’ll ruin it?”

Michangelo took the older turtle around the shell and began to guide him to the counter.

“There’s no wrong way to mess up a recipe you’re making up! Besides, even if it’s bad, raph’ll eat it like it’s five star lobster! I don’t even think he can taste anymore.”

“Really?” Mikey gave a look that showed he didn’t quite believe, “my Raph’s really particular about what he’ll eat....”

Michelangelo snapped. “Ah, a picky eater! I got one of those! That’s why I gotta make Donnie’s portion separate on most nights. Splinter tried to use the ‘can’t leave the table until you eat it’ technique and Donnie say there for almost two days refusing to touch it before splinter gave in.”

Mikey whistled. “I don’t think I could go two hours without food...” he clutched at his stomach, “let alone two days...”

Michelangelo gave a patient smile and patted Mikey’s shell to urge him closer to the counter. Mikey looked out over the perfectly laid out supplies, and then back nervously at the other.

“W... what are you making?”

“What do you think?” Michelangelo motioned to the ingredients. “Take a guess!”

Mikey narrowed his eyes as he took a second look. Several jars of Marinara, four different cheeses laid out... pepperonis and meat-cutting scissors... flour, salt, eggs, olive oil...

“Are... you making pizza gyoza?” Mikey could feel his stump of a tail beginning to wag excitedly at the thought of the soft, cheesy goodness of the treats his friend murikami often made for them.

Michelangelo tisked his tongue and bopped his other on the nose. “Close~ I’m making my own version! The best chef can improvise with what he has in his kitchen! The gyoza you described would be put in a dumpling, but this one will be improvised to fit in a ravioli! I could have done the traditional gyoza, but I like putting my own spin on things! It’s gonna be a four cheese ravioli with pepperonis mixed in and topped with marinara sauce! I call it Mikey’s Masterpiece!”

Mikey could feel his mouth running at the thought and swiped his tongue across his lips. “Sounds tasty...”

Michelangelo nodded, almost about to open his mouth to offer more praise before he saw that the poor mutant was still looking nervous and unsure.

“Here,” Michelangelo slid over several cups of flour and a measured amount of salt. “Mound them on the the counter and Make a well.”

Mikey poured the ingredients in the table and stared at them for a few seconds before Michelangelo recognized his mistake.

“Oh! Mm. We’re gonna make... a lake! See, the flour and salt will be our sand and the wet ingredients...?”

“Will... be our water?” Mikey offered tentatively.

“Exactly! So make the sand, but leave space in the middle so we can put in our water!”

“Oh!” Mikey giggled as he began to make a surprisingly well-crafted well, “this is fun!”

Michelangelo let the turtle have his fun before bringing over his egg mixture and offering it.

“Your ‘Water’ my liege~”

Mikey took the bowl and, after an encouraging nod from his other, carefully poured the mixture into the center.

Michelangelo cleared his throat. “OH NO! The tides coming in!”

Mikey gasped.

“And it’s taking a bunch of sand back with it!” He knew lakes didn’t really have a tide, but it worked for the euphemism. He took his hand and swiped some of the flour into the liquidy center. “Do you know how tides work, Mike?”

Mikey shook his head, his eyes in awe as he imagined the water cutting across the Sandy shores and taking them away into the cold depths.

“Well, tides come in a little at a time, so they can only take a little sand at a time.” Michelangelo explained, “and then!” He began to mix the liquid around with his hand, “the waves all get crazy in the middle and have a party! Now the tides gonna take even more sand! You try!”

Mikey knocked some of the sand into the mixture and, when he wasn’t scolded for doing something wrong, he began to carefully mix it. Michelangelo guided him through the rest of the steps until the ingredients were all mixed into a soft, doughy ball.

“What now?” Mikey giggled— his face and hands were now coated in flour to add to his genuine enjoyment of the activity.

“Now: feel how it’s all gooey-ooey?”

“Ya!” Mikey poked the dough.

“That’s like mud!”

“Mud?”

“After it rained all day and the earth got soft! But it’s January! What happens when night comes?”

Mikey scratched his head. “It gets all cold...”

“Aaaand...?”

“And the mud freezes!”

“Exactly!” Michelangelo folded the dough safely in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge. “So now it’s night!”

“So we go to sleep?”

“No silly! We’re ninja! We stalk the nights!”

“We own the night!”

“Exactly! So let’s own the night and keep busy while the dough freezes!” Michelangelo hummed as he looked over the cheeses. He took a handful and showed it to Mikey. “See these?”

“Cheese?” Mikey took a piece and ate it happily.

“No! It’s not cheese its... mystic crystals! Do you have those in your world?”

“No.” Mikey gaped, “Well, there was this one time that April got an evil Crystal from an alien planet. Does that count?”

“No. These are mystic crystals! They take on the properties of whatever they’re added to!”

“It just looks like cheddar to me...”

“That’s exactly what it wants you to think.” Michelangelo winked. “Now, we’re gonna make a magic potion with our mystic crystals!”

“What does the potion do?”

“It’s a... warmth potion! For when you’re cold! So we gotta add a lot of heat for it to form proper!”

Michangelo put a skillet on the stove and added olive oil, half a fan of marinara, and garlic. He offered a cup of heavy cream to Mikey, who promptly took a sip before pouring the rest of it into the concoction— it was going to get boiled anyway, so it shouldn’t matter. After a few minutes of standing over the heat, Michelangelo offered his friend the cheese.

“Now is the time to add the crystals— slowly!” He quickly added as Mikey went to pour the whole thing, “we don’t want the crystals to be on top of each other! They need to melt for the potion to work!”

Mikey nodded and obeyed, and while he did, Michelangelo started to warm up the rest of the marinara on a separate pan and preheat the oven. He checked in quickly on the brewing potion and removed it from the heat once it was ready, taking a wooden spoon to scoop up a small bit and taste before offering the rest to Mikey. The box turtle practically melted as the heat overtook his body in a pleasant mix of sauce and cheese.

“Mmmmm...” he moaned softly, “that’s really good!”

Michelangelo grinned, and began to sprinkle some pepperonis in and begin to mix it around. “Oh good other of mine~! I think it’s daaaaawn!”

Mikey gasped and hurried over to the fridge and pull out the flattened dough, giving it a poke. “It wooooorked...”

“Now! Roll it on the table, quick!” He tossed Mikey a rolling pin, “before the dough worms come out!”

Mikey’s jaw fell open. “The whaaaaat?”

“THE DOUGH WORMS! They live in cold dough and steal all the flavor! Now hurry and smoosh them before they can escape with the taste!”

“OH NO!” Mikey slammed the dough on the table and began to roll it out.

“No thicker than a nickel— the worms are really small and can survive otherwise!”

“I WONT LET ANY OF THEM ESCAPE!”

Mikey did an excellent job of flattening out the dough into a large, thin sheet. After reassuring him he had gotten all the ‘dough worms’, Michelangelo carefully cut the sheet in half and began to lay his cheese mixture.

“See these?” He held up the spoonful of the mystic potion, “when mystic potion is added to dough and boiled, it’s affects increase tenfold!”

“Ooooo!”

“So put them in piles like so...” Michelangelo began to lay out spoonfuls an inch apart, “so we can make a bunch and share it!”

“Good idea! We all need to stay warm and toasty!” Mikey grabbed another spoon and began to help.

With the playful assistance of Mikey, they had finished making the ravioli within two hours and Michelangelo let Mikey serve to to the hungry brothers.

“Mmm...” Leonardo moaned almost sensually at the explosive taste in his mouth. “This is really good.”

Leo had been hesitant at first when he found out it had been Michelangelo preparing the dinner, but a quick sight test showed nothing awry. A smell test yielded only a warm fragrance, and lastly a taste test...

Leo’s eyes shot open and he was sure they had fallen from his sockets in his surprise. One small nibble had turned into swallowing the chopstick-ful whole and almost purring in delight as the warm, perfect mix of sauce and cheese and dough rolled down his throat. Once their brother had taken the dive, Raph and Donnie exchanged shocked glances and began to scarf down their shares as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

Mikey didn’t open his mouth, except to eat his extra tasty dinner of course. Just seeing his brothers happily scarfing down something that he’d made was more than enough.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #donatello #donnie #leo #leonardo #Mikey #Michelangelo #raph #raphael #one shots

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Betrothed Ch. 11 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 11: Broken

Summary: Illumi cannot escape his past - but sometimes that fact isn’t all that bad.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst, the usual.

Words: ~2500

A/N: Sorry guys, this chapter probably sucks. When I’m working night-shifts I become erradic and can’t think straight, but I still wanna write, so...

Story Masterlist

No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man To be the sad man behind blue eyes. And no one knows what it’s like to be hated. To be fated to telling only lies. But my dreams they aren’t as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours only lonely. My love is vengeance, that’s never free.

- Limp Bizkit: Behind Blue Eyes

“Keep good care of Alluka, okay?”

He only nodded in response. You never doubtet him to protect her, yet also couldn’t help reminding him either after everything he’s been through.

After all, his fear of Illumi made him forget about his locked away sister for such a long time...

“And you’ll be listening to your brother, right?”

“Aye!” the little girl cheered, pecking the flustered boy on the cheek.

It was actually very adoring to look at those two siblings who were finally reunited, now able to make up for the time they’ve lost.

The only companion you’d take with you was your familiar Luna, and you also didn’t want to rely on Alluka’s powers now that you had a hint to your husband’s whereabouts.

Your sister-in-law had been through enough, and she also was way more than just someone to grant wishes. She had desires, dreams and a future to look out for. Both of them.

Gladly, Killua could tell you about all safehouses in Yorknew City so the Zoldyck family wouldn’t notice about you prying around. That information was more than enough for your search.

“What are you going to do from now on?”

“Getting my husband back, obviously” you shrugged at Killua’s words, clutching the ace of spades you were holding. Hisoka had given it to you - infused with a powerful nen, you could contact him whenever you felt it necessary.

“I know that’s all very much for you...” Yes, Killua had struggled with his brother’s mental illness ever since his birth. And now to act like all of that never happened just because you told him he had a change of heart? It seemed almost impossible. “So take your time processing things. We won’t bother you until you’re ready.”

Rumpling up the boy’s white hair, you grinned widely at your friends before you boarded the airship.

You were already halfway across the ocean when you got a message from Killua, warming your cautious heart:

“I’m glad you’ve joined our family. Save him.”

Days passed by as you searched safehous after safehous, as well as every shady corner of the city. Much to your dissatisfaction, your husband had always been gone as soon as you reached the scene of crime.

“I’ll find him, no matter what!” you thought just before you reached the next safehouse, deep in the mountains surrounding the great city. He had seemingly destroyed the Zoldyck Personal Transmitter, just as you had - both blessing and curse.

The view was breathtaking, yet you didn’t bother yourself with wasting any minute enjoying it. Luna’s cry told you that you were near, and that was all that counted right now.

Because there were only three spots left, and what if you’d search for him in vain and he had already left Yorknew City? Your guts twisted very unpleasantly at the thought, making it a lot harder to climb the last pile of rocks.

And there it was - a small brick house, nothing more than a one-room-apartment with the most needed items to survive a short time.

There were lights on inside, you clearly saw them from afar.

Fearing that he would leave if he noticed you, there was no other option left than to surpress your Nen completely, leaving you defenseless against every possible threat.

But when you entered, there was no one there - except...

“Oh?” As you stepped into the dim cancle light of the room, a small cat stumbled in between your legs, purring happily. “Who are you, sweetheart?”

Seems like Illumi made a friend, huh?

The thought alone made your heart feel like it’ll burst out of happiness as you pet the animal’s head, noticing that Illumi had treated it’s wounds.

Leaving Luna and the cat get to know each other, you roamed around the room, searching for any possible hint on Illumi’s location.

The house seemed to still be occupied, so should you just wait here for him?

But then, the TV that he seemingly forgot to turn off bursted the local news:

“The auction is only expected to take place in a few weeks, but the preparations are already in full swing. Even though everone is talking about the possibility of the Phantom Troupe blowing up the occasion, rumors about ‘special measurements’ have been spread. The organizers did not want to comment, however they assured us the auction will run safe and peaceful.”

“Organizers my ass” you gritted your teeth. Everyone on the world knew the legendary Ten Dons were secretly holding an Underground Auction, with the ‘legal’ one just being a distraction.

But now you could very well imagine where your lover has headed up to...

It’s the same every year. Many assassins would gather to protect the auction, very well paid by the Dons.

A very good occasion to start wiping out the profession of assassins completely.

Finding the place of action was no problem. A quick research and you knew that the tallest hotel in town was in their possession, where the assassins would probably be allowed to stay until the big occasion.

The hardest part however was what in the world you could do if you arrived there...

“P-Please, have mercy!”

As you broke into the building and entered the conference hall, the blood-bath was already in full swing, the true strenght of your husband unfolding in front of your very eyes.

“Sorry, but I cannot make exceptions” Illumi spoke calmly, hitting his enemy’s head with a needle.

There were twenty-five - no, thirty corpses laying around.

Did he really single-handedly kill all those highly professional assassins? Then again, you had never seen him go all out before...

Even though your husband seemed to have granted them a quick death, everything was a mess. Broken furniture, scattered bodyparts and puddles of blood everywhere.

Illumi obviously didn’t need any help, but the moment you saw another enemy try to attack him from behind, you snapped.

Before you could even comprehend what happened, your body had acted before your mind, leaving you only able to watch as the man fell to the ground.

That wasn’t right. Those assassins were mostly hunters, who arrested or killed criminals. They weren’t guilty or worthy of death.

And yet you did it...it was a reflex, your inherent wish to help Illumi being stronger than your rationality.

So you stood stock still as your husband turned around, furrowing his brows at the injured person laying at his feet - and finished him off.

"Oh? Y/N...” Why did his tone have to be so cheerfull, even at times like this? “What are you doing here?”

As if this was a casual chat, he stepped over several corpses until he faced you, while still remaining his distance.

You gulped harshly, even after all this time not prepared for this moment. “I-I was searching for you.”

“What for?” he plainly retorted, stepping harshly on one of the twitching bodies. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, but you shouldn’t be here.”

Folding your hands to keep them from shaking, it made your following words seem only more as if you were praying. “Because I want you to come back to me. Please...”

“I can’t do that, Y/N” he said and his pained smile ripped your heart in thousand pieces. “I’m too dangerous to be with you. I see that now. It’s no wonder you didn’t trust me back then - since I can’t even trust myself.”

Seeing your face stained with tears made him struggle with the wish to cradle you in his arms, soothing you like he always did. But he refrained from doing so.

“Don’t be sad.” He rose his bloodied hands in the air, gesturing across the room. "I found something I want to do. See? I’ll cleanse the world of other monsters like me and make it more safe for you!”

“Lumi...” Hearing this familiar nickname in your most alluring voice made him drop the facade for only a mere second. “...are you crying?”

“Huh? So that’s what it is.” Only now Illumi realized that he had been weeping as well, touching his face in surprise. He had already forgotten that he was able to cry as well."Yeah. It happens a lot lately.”

“Illumi, love-” you now pleaded, breaking out in convulsive sobbing. “You’re sick, you know that. But that’s not the right way...”

“No need to worry” he tried to compromise, pointing to his neck. “I used a needle on myself, in case my parents should get the better off me again. If I ever hurt someone innocent again, it’ll tear my aorta apart and I’ll die.”

You dared to take a few steps in his direction, but he backed off. “There’s no other way, Y/N. You’re the only one allowed to put an end to my life if you wish, but nothing else.”

“If I die, I’ll make up at least for a fraction of my deeds” Illumi thought to himself, his face now contorting to a rather mad smirk. “Y/N will be safe.”

You said nothing - no, you were left unable to speak.

Seeing the love of your life suffering so much was just too hard for you to bear.

“I’m not worthy of your love, Y/N.” God knows when he managed to appear right in front of you, but somehow he did, softly raising your chin. “I’ll never be” he added, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Y-You...” Softly sniveling, you embraced your husband, face wetting the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t need to be ‘worthy’. Love doesn’t work that way, Lumi. I’ll always love you! That’s up to me and you can’t just change that fact!”

“I could” he suggested himself, struggling with the temptation to kiss all your pain away. A needle could make you hate him, or even forget it all.

But he had promised himself to never manipulate other people or cut their freedom, even if just for their safety.

It was your own decision how to feel, or how you’d deal with it.

“Do you really still not remember, Lumi?”

“What exactly?” Your husband didn’t move an inch as you grabbed him tight, afraid he’d leave as soon as you let go.

“You spared me back then” you whispered, shivering as you tried to get a hold of him again. "We were still young, but you were already under their influence...”

Illumi clearly began to shake too, making you regret the previous words. Of course they would cause a flashback...

“Do you remember?”

“Vividly.”

Your husband must’ve been sixteen around that time - yet already a completely trained, fearsome assassin.

Who was his target again? He couldn’t remember.

All he knew was that the orders were to “kill the target as well as it’s allies and leave no witnesseses behind”. The job was precize, requiring to act quick to clean up every proof.

And then there was you.

Still in midst of your hunter education, you were assigned by your family to become the bodyguard over that certain politician, following him on his every step.

But now you saw it all in front of you: Illumi, with his hands firmly strangulating your airway.

He hadn’t developed his Nen abilities at the time, therefore having to do the job with his bare hands. And since you were the last one he had to get rid of, there was no need to hurry.

It was a strange feeling to have such a beautiful person writhing underneath him, piercing him with their pleading look.

Somehow it was a shame you had to die so early, and under those circumstances...

Just when you felt yourself passing out from lack of oxygen, you refrained from trying to pull his hands away - and placed one softly on his cheek.

Illumi froze, shocked by your deed. He had taken so many lives, made countless people suffer already...

But you were the only one who looked at him with such kind, sad eyes...absent of any hint of grudge.

You coughed heavily before you were able to corak out the question burning on your tongue: Why did he stopp fulfilling his mission?

"Yes, why...” he asked himself as well, rubbing the cheek you had just stoked. That sensation, the gentleness and affection of your touch was so foreign to him that he completely lost himself for a moment.

“Why didn’t you struggle?” he turned the interrogation around, almost forgetting about the severe situation both of you were in.

“Dunno” you shuddered, just now realizing that you had given in to your fate just seconds ago. “You seemed kind of sad.”

What?!? This must be some kind of trick!

“Does someone force you to do this?” The compassionate expression on your face scared him, making him want to run away from what he did not know. “You don’t seem happy to do this.”

“I don’t feel anything” the teenager scoffed, taken aback by your worry and care. “I am a highfunctioning tool of darkness and nothing more.”

"How sad...” You cracked a weak smile, and it’s brightness was enough to make him flee, your last words still spinning in his head. “I think under different circumstances, I would’ve loved to become your friend!”

You really were something else...flirting with an enemy that tried to kill you?!? Talking about being insane...

“I get now why my family was so much against our marriage...it’s a joke, really...”

It was a mystery how you didn’t recognize him right away, and how you only now remembered. They had to change all the facts, spending a huge amount of money to silence anyone knowing the truth.

Your name got changed, and everyone would have to act like you were their second child - because the one on the mission had died back then.

So the wrath of the Zoldycks wouldn’t caugh up with you to finish their job.

“You liked me...” Illumi let out a shaky breath, “...even back then.”

“Sure!” you now chuckled weakly, trying to brighten the mood. “How could one not fall for those eyes?”

“I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t.”

Leading his hands to your neck, you wanted to show just how much you trusted him. And immediately, his hands, wandered up to your face, softly suqeezing and stroking it as if he was making sure this wasn’t just a dream or an hallucination. “You’d never hurt me, Lumi. I know that.”

And finally, he cupped your face, hesistantly moving his own closer to yours.

“Is it really okay for me to love you?” he whimpered ever so slightly - but you already pushed your lips onto his until they were inseparable.

“Yes, it is.”

_____

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