#but it's like sun + moon now where he's just hanging out in my head freely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pandoraslxna · 1 year

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hi. im just a girl daydreaming about mating with aged up! loak. please make my dreams come true. some angst. with happy ending. female reader. smut. I BEG YOU. and i would do ANYTHING.

kisses lots of love and bye 🥰

The moon, the stars and his life

adult Lo‘ak x female metkayina reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, sexual harassment, bullying, mean Aonung (sorry to all Aonung stans), smut with feelings, possessive / jealous Lo‘ak

Notes: I hope that’s what you had in mind, I was simultaneously writing Lo‘ak x reader angst for my fic on ao3 and had to make sure they’re not too similar 😵‍💫

Lo‘ak didn’t know what he did to deserve such a blessing in the shape of you. Did he even deserve it? He doubts it. You were just so perfect, from the top of your head to your cute little toes and the tip of your tail. Perfect.

Which is why it hurts even more, to hear those Metkayina boys talk about him like this to you...

Originally, he just wanted to go for a swim, see what you were up to and if you wanted to come along and spend some time with him. Down at the shore is where he had finally found you. You were sitting in the sand, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin and with your feet in the clear water, while you were braiding your hair in peaceful silence. Lo’ak was about to approach you, until Aonung and his friends came into view.

The sight of them, surrounding you like you were their prey made him clench his teeth in anger. But before he mindlessly jumps into action like last time, he decides to watch, see what they’re gonna do. At first he thought they would tease you too, just like they did with him and Kiri- for your different shaped tail and small arms. But the conversation quickly went into a different direction.

"…You should hang out with us instead", one of them says and reaches his hand out to brush through your hair. "We can show you around, nobody knows these island like we do, baby." You’re quick to shove his hand away, politely declining his offer. You’re always so kind, Lo’ak sighs. Too kind. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, couldn’t treat them in the same disrespectful way as they were treating you.

"Ohh I forgot", Aonung says with a wink to his friends that you completely miss, "You and Lo‘ak, right?" The chiefs son confidently lays his arm around your shoulder and pulls you a little closer, much to your visible annoyance. "What does a pretty girl like you even see in a freak like him, huh? Have you seen his hands? Gross!" The group laughs at his words. "That dick can’t even be that good, right? If you come with us, we‘ll show you how you deserve to be treated." You scrunch your nose in disgust of these words.

"C‘mon, don’t be so shy, we don’t bite. Let’s have a little fun together. You don’t have to hang around with that freak all day." Aonung leans even closer to you and that’s when you finally decide it’s enough and get up. It pains him to see that forced smile on your lips, knowing you’re too scared to tell these guys to fuck off. Instead, you politely tell them that you had to leave now.

"If you ever want to get a taste of real Na‘vi, you know where to find me!" Aonung calls after you and his friends can’t hold back their laughs.

"Lo‘ak, there you are!", your soft voice calls out for him. "Oel ngati kameie." You greet him with a smile but he can’t bring himself to return it to you. With a frown you sit down next to him and immediately ask, "What’s wrong?" Lo‘ak shrugs, "Nothing is wrong."

"Are you sure?", you lean against his side and look up to him through your long lashes.

"Yes, I‘m sure", Lo‘ak responds cold and you sigh.

"Lo‘ak I’ve known you long enough now, I can tell from a mile away that there’s something on your mind so spit it out." The Na‘vi knows he won’t stand a chance against you. You always got everything you wanted from him and it was impossible to tell you no, let alone keep something secret from you. You definitely had your ways of getting him to talk…

"Do you think I’m a freak?", he mumbles and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

"What?", you scoff, "Why would I think that?"

"I’ve heard your conversation with Aonung", he tells you with a painful look on his face.

"These guys are pricks, Lo‘ak. Just a bunch of village boys that are probably too scared to ever leave their home. They could’ve never done what you and your family did."

"I know that but–"

"Just imagine them in the forest, do you think they would be able to adapt as quick as you did? Can you imagine Aonung bonding with an Ikran?" She laughs and his features soften a little. "Fishlips wouldn’t survive a day!"

It’s incredible. You are incredible. You just had this way of magically washing away all of his worries in the blink of an eye.

"So you’re… not interested in spending your time with Aonung instead of me?" He playfully nudges your side and you giggle.

"Oh you know, his offer was definitely appealing, but I’m way more interested to be with one of those Omatikaya boys. You know, the cute one? What was his name again?"

Lo‘ak rolls his eyes and chuckles, "Skxawng."

"No, I think his name is Lo‘a–" You can’t even finish the sentence. Without thinking, Lo’ak reaches down, hand cupping the back of your neck so he can haul you into a kiss. He always kisses you like it was the only thing that could keep him from dying, like your kiss and your lips were his saving grace in life.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, matching his vigor, his speed and that’s one of the things he loves about you. One of the things that’s been driving him crazy, keeping him up until ungodly hours as he tries to figure out how someone could affect him this way. You always keep up, even if you’re not ready to run into the line of fire.

You rest your hand on his chest, tilting your head and he instantly wedges his tongue between your lips. Lo’ak has something of an oral fixation. He’s all lips and teeth and tongue, he sucks and bites at every inch of skin he sees, like somehow it brings you even closer to him. You know that it isn’t necessary for him to leave a mark, everybody knows you are his, but he tends to anyways, with how he assaults your skin. In the blink of an eye, your top is discarded to somewhere behind him and then your back makes contact with the warm sand. The Na’vi groans with your nipple between his lips, desperation rocketing through your core and up your spine at the feeling, the sound. His lashes flutter as he suddenly pulls back to gaze up at you.

Lo’aks fingers tighten on your hips, almost possessively, as he looks at you. "You’re mine", he tells you and immediately you know, it's not something he says just like that. Nothing he says only in the heat of the moment. He says it because he means it. You were his. Always and forever. You look at him with your big doe eyes and nod. He reaches behind his back for his braided ponytail and then presents those tiny, pinkish tendrils in front of your face. You waste no time doing the same, reaching for your tswin.

"Say it", he demands, breathing heavily, "Say you’re mine." His pupils dilate as he watches your lips move, "I‘m yours, Lo‘ak. Only yours." And with that you connect, forming the tsaheylu bond. Your eyes close and you sigh in unison.

An almost animalistic purr rumbles deep within his chest and his broad hands sweep up your thighs, the lightest of touches searing against your bare skin. You lean yourself on your forearms to catch his lips in another kiss, rougher this time, letting him wrap his arms around you and pull you closer. Subconsciously, you roll your hips up against his, gasping into his mouth at the grind of his erection against your core. His hold on you falters for just half a second and then it returns with a vengeance, fingers digging into your skin and you gasp.

Lo‘ak‘s lip twitches up into a smug smile.

He’s desperate to have you. Seeing another man hit on you today has awoken some animalistic urge inside of him. He wants you to scream– scream so loud that everyone in the village would know what’s going on. If he wasn’t so possessive over you, he would’ve enjoyed to let Aonung watch you fall apart for him and nobody else. Because yes, his dick really is that good.

Your hips buck, seeking any sort of friction to ease the ache between your thighs. The throbbing between your legs has steadily grown and now reached a point where you couldn’t ignore it. Lo‘ak is quick to realize that and grinds his own hips against yours. You can’t help but let out a desperate moan.

Lo’aks hands make quick, steady work on your loincloth, pushing and pulling at it until it‘s bunched around your waist just high enough so that he can slip his hand between your thighs and finally get a feel of your wet heat.

“So wet for me already, sweet girl?” A lewd grin takes over his face as he runs two fingers through your slit. "I’ve barely even started." He dips his fingers into you just enough so that you begin to feel a hint of the stretch he could give you, but not enough to please any desire. "Lo‘ak please", you whine desperately. "Please, what? Tell me what you want, my mate."

How could you possibly decide?

“Anything, I’ll take anything", You moan out.

With a chuckle, Lo‘ak makes the decision for you, moving quickly as he frees his cock from his loincloth. You stare at it without a shame. No matter how many times you saw it, you would never get tired of the perfect sight. Lo‘ak kisses you once more, kisses you like it was the last time he would ever get to.

Slowly, he lowers his body onto yours, until there was not a single part of you both that was not touching. You fit together like a puzzle.

Pushing a hand in between your bodies, he guides the tip of his cock to prod against your entrance. "Don’t forget to breathe", he whispers against your lips and you release the breathe you didn’t even realize you were holding. The stretch of his cock entering you is a lot, but it’s not entirely painful. You whine and cling to him, nails digging into his back and Lo‘ak groans.

His fingers expertly find your clit and he begins to rub small, gentle circles around it, never ceasing to kiss you all the while. A shudder goes through your entire body at the stimulation and you sigh into his mouth before breaking away to let out a long moan.

You’re warm and soft around him, tight but still giving as he stretches you. Once fully inside, he stills, pushing his face into the side of your neck. "Oh fuck,” he curses under his breath.

He reaches up to grab one of your arms, pulling it from its position around his back and pushes it down on the warm sand, intertwining your three fingers with his own, four, much larger ones.

And then, he begins to move. His strokes are deep and on point, pace slow at first but increasing as time passes, your whines turning more desperate with every thrust of his hips. His eyes roam over you, starting from where you were connected– in and out, his cock glistening with your slickness. Then your breasts, bouncing every time your hips meet. And finally your face, lips swollen red from his kisses, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded, yet still focused on him –an expression that only he would ever get to see on that pretty face of yours.

From then on, his eyes were locked with yours. Something has him trapped in your gaze and if you asked him to now, he would give you the moon and the stars and his life.

A moan slips past his lips when he feels you clench around him. "You feel -oh, fuck- feel so good, squeezing me so tight", and to underline his statement, his hips snap roughly against yours and you moan, loud. "Lo‘ak!"

"Yeah, just like that. Let them all hear who’s making you feel so good", he groans. Unable to hold himself back, the Na‘vi starts to increase his pace to match the intensity of his feelings for you. You buck your hips, trying to match his as a shared effort to chase the sweet release together. Sounds of pleasure fall from both of your lips, uncaring if you’re too loud. It’s was too late for that now anyways.

The coil in your stomach tightens dangerously, prompting you to curl your toes. You squirm against Lo‘ak, who continues to hold you close to his body as his thrusts loose their rhythm, becoming much more erratic. "I’m coming, Lo’ak, feels too good", you moan and whine and he nods along to your words. "I know, I know its so fucking good, right?" You lift your legs and wrap them around his hips, locking your ankles together behind him as Lo‘ak continues to pound into you, unable to think of anything else asides from the way your walls tighten around his throbbing cock.

He curses under his breath, uncertain if he can hold out for much longer until one deep and hard thrust has you throwing your head back, screaming out his name as your body shakes under him, your walls clenching dangerously tight around him. "Good girl", he praises as he fucks you through it, "That’s it, my sweet mate. Let me feel you cum on my cock." Your nails claw at his back without restraint, eliciting a small hiss from him before white fills his vision. His head dips low to bite into your shoulder, trying to muffle his own moans while enjoying the feeling of the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over again. And then he spills inside you, claiming you as his, once again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The walk back to your marui pod is filled with sweet laughs and giggles, as you hold onto his arm and intertwine your fingers with his. Aonungs face is sour, anger radiating off of him in waves as you both pass him like two lovebirds. The both of you don’t even realize that he’s there, too lost in each others eyes, as you bring Lo‘ak‘s hands to your lips and press a soft kiss to his pinkie.

#lo‘ak x female reader smut #loak x reader smut #avatar loak #loak x reader #loak sully #loak angst #loak x you #atwow loak #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #lo‘ak x reader smut #neteyam #jake sully #lo‘ak #loak #･｡ﾟ☆: *my works* :☆ﾟ.

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garoujo · 1 year

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✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — your facetime calls with nagi always have you wishing he’d come home sooner.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! fluff, all characters written 22+, nagi is written as a pro player, hes overseas for an away game, cute facetime calls. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! this idea was v much stuck in my head so i had to sob, he’s the best <3

“seishiro, what’re you looking at?” your voice is soft as you watch your boyfriend nagi jostle slightly on your phone screen, grumbling before he’s smooshing his cheek against his forearm where they fold on the desk infront of him. its morning where you are although the suns long set where he is — you can tell by the hues of the sky behind him, but he still blinks up at you like he’s staring at the moon.

“nothing.” he tries to play off the fact that he’s just been memorising, missing your features over your facetime call despite the way his voice seems to fade into something dreamier at the end as he gives you a drowsy blink and a pout. his sleepy gaze moves softly from corner to corner of his screen and he seems to soften with his next breath, he’s looking at you.

“you’re staring.”

“am not.” nagi replies again as he sighs and you watch the way his back moves under the fabric of his hoodie as he shifts — snowy bangs falling over his features and the urge to reach forward and brush them from his gaze like you normally would has your heart squeezing a little.

you let the silence hang in the place where you both take a breath as you lean back against your pillow, grabbing your phone to prop it up on the plushie that your boyfriend made sure to buy you to keep you company — even though he assured you you’d have choki incase you needed someone to talk to while he was gone. you watch his head fall to the side slightly and it makes you giggle at the way he’s still so committed to calling you despite how tired he is.

“seishiro..” you drawl and you don’t miss the way nagi’s eyes seem to flutter closed at the smooth call of his name, like a lullaby that he’s longed to hear. you’re well aware he misses you as much as you miss him.

“are you asleep?” your words are a whisper, soft enough not to startle the sleepy striker but still enough to make him grumble as he peeks up at you through his messy bangs.

“nah, ‘m awake. not being with you is such a pain though.” nagi’s voice is lower this time, slightly buried into his sleeve before he’s pushing himself back in his chair to stretch — grumbling as he reaches under the hem of his hoodie to scratch at his stomach. your eyes follow his movements and he picks up on it as his brows raise, head tilting to the side as he lets out a little yawn that makes you laugh softly.

“how’s practice? you better not be slacking off because i’m not there to watch.” you tease as you watch the drowsiness creep onto your boyfriends naturally soft features, his lips resting into another tight lipped pout as he pinches at the hair that rests across the bridge of his nose.

“eh, i just wanna be done already. then i can come back home and play games again.”

“you can play games there though.”

“eh, but it’s no fun without you now, ‘ts a bother.” his words are meant literally but they make you giggle, you always loved how straight forward he was despite the way that he still liked sneaking in glances towards you like he was afraid you’d catch him. but you think nagi seishiro looks his brightest under the moon, and he thinks you look your prettiest when you’re caught somewhere between a smile and a laugh.

“you’ll be home soon though.” the smile on your face is maintained as you relax again and you watch the way he fiddles with the drawstrings of his sweats as he tries to busy his hands — too used to tapping away at the screen of his phone but he still gives you his full attention everytime you speak. he flicks his eyes between the sky outside and the phone screen and you think you prefer the way the sky looks through his canvas of grey as you watch him.

“yeah but the flights so bothersome, want you here now.” nagi settles in his seat before he breathes and it’s like his sort of love is woven into the silence, because he never had to say much to remind you that he loved you.

“one more week, i’ll even buy you lemon tea.” he seems to perk up at that as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and you tilt your head to the side when he shrugs a few moments later.

“but that makes me wanna leave and come home now.” you know this isn’t a conversation you can win when it comes to nagi, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the quiet of your mornings with him with your sheets pulled up to your chin and his face resting in your neck. you look around your jostled sheets, a bed made for two that’s only occupied by one right now before you’re looking back at him and you smile when you realise he’s staring again, and suddenly the start of your day is already easy despite the missing piece.

“you should sleep, sei. i don’t wanna get you in trouble when you have dark circles on tv.” your words make him hum at first before he’s back to resting over his table with folded arms, his sleepy state evident on his features and you swear he stifles a yawn before he speaks.

“eh, but i don’t wanna go yet.. ‘m not even tired.” you think it’s charming the way nagi seems to try to fake being any sort of rested, his tone shifting into something a little faster than his usual drawl as he gives you a wide-eyed blink, like he’s trying to convince you to stay with him, just for a while.

“sei.” but you see right through him and with that he huffs before he’s letting his eyes rest closed once more, like a little sign of defeat despite the way he still makes you soften.

“no fair, jus’ wanna talk to you a lil while longer, jus’ til i fall asleep, please.” nagi drawls, a little lighter and whinier than his usual lower tone that’s almost like a sleepy plea. but when it’s accompanied by a slow drowsy blink as he gazes up at you— you know you can’t say no anyway.

“fine.. just ‘til you fall asleep.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi fluff #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro fluff

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linorachas · 1 year

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morning was made. | bang chan

ᦈ pairing — bang chan x reader

ᦈ genre — fluff, established relationship

ᦈ word count — 1.6k

ᦈ this was posted on ao3 loooong ago and i forgot i never posted it here lol. wrote this in 30 mins as a warm-up to get back into writing so it might be a lil over the place sorry ㅠㅠ no plot whatsoever just vibes in chan's arms

♬ now playing: morning was made (hush kids)

When you wake up, there’s a koala by the name of Bang Chan hanging off you.

The sun has barely risen, but the sky is painted a light blue which tells you that the morning was about to come. You blink blearily, barely even awake, but the puffs of Chan’s warm breath on your neck tickled and the grip he had on your waist was getting just a tad bit too tight.

“Chan,” you groan quietly, wiggling, but his hold on you doesn’t budge. If anything, it just tightens.

Chan grunts at your constant prodding, lips already pursed into a pout even though his eyes are still squeezed shut. His curls brush against your cheeks when he moves even closer.

“Chan, oh my god,” you laugh, slightly more awake now. You rub the sleep off your eyes, mentally planning how to escape from your boyfriend’s death clutch. “Baby, you gotta let me breathe.”

You manage to wiggle an arm free, using it to slide your hand through Chan’s hair and scratch at his scalp while continuing your calls. You were hoping this was enough to gently wake him up, but it seemed to do the opposite, because Chan just snores. Loudly.

So with no other option left, you tug. Hard.

“Ah!” Chan yelps, jerking his face away from your neck, yet his arms still don’t move an inch. He whines, eyes squinted. “Ow, Y/N, what was that for?”

You bite back a smile at his puffy face. “Let me move, please. I’m sure we’re both stiff from being in the same position for so long.”

You had both passed out early in the evening last night, exhausted after a day’s worth of activities. It was rare that the boys had a day off, much rarer when they could spend it with you, so you all made the most of it and jam-packed your day yesterday.

And as much as you all wanted to stay awake, the boys had a schedule today, and you were kind of dead on your feet. So by 9 pm, the lights were out, and you and Chan had crawled into each other’s arms and slept like babies.

But your early bedtime didn’t seem to be enough, because Chan stubbornly refused to open his eyes, even as he pushed his head into your palm. You soothe the pain in his scalp with the pads of your fingers when he whines again, and you apologize quietly with a kiss to his cheek.

This finally gets him to move though. Chan lies on his back, arms slipping away from your waist so he could stretch. You copy his movements too, mostly stretching your now free limbs, but you yelp when Chan pulls you back in his arms with a simple tug to the wrist.

He slides an arm under your neck this time, pulling you close by the shoulder. Weak as ever, you melt into his embrace easily.

Chan sighs after a while, eyes still closed. “W’time issit?”

“Early.” You lean up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, to which he makes a noise at and snuggles closer. “Back to sleep.”

Chan makes an incoherent noise as a reply, and you watch fondly as his breath evens out in just a few minutes. Soon enough, he was back to snoring.

You envied that a bit, though. Once you were up, it was hard to get back to sleep. Even when sleep begged to pull you back to dreamland, your eyes still droopy, you didn’t want to waste the day, especially right now when getting a moment alone with Chan felt like it could only happen once in a blue moon.

So you were content to watch the rise and fall of your boyfriend’s bare chest, his steady heartbeat heard clearly from where your head was resting against his pec.

This, you think faintly, will always be better than a good dream.

But in the end, you still doze off. Chan’s warmth was lulling you to sleep, and you were helpless to the comfort that he provided. Your body was too relaxed to not succumb to the shackles of sleep, because you knew that here, in Chan’s arms, you were safe. There was nothing in the world that could hurt you and take you away from him right now.

When you wake up again, the sky is yellow, and you are still in Bang Chan’s arms.

You sigh, too content and warm and happy in your position. But you could hear some bustling outside— most likely Minho who tended to wake up early on days with a schedule— so you knew it was time to get up, no matter how much you wanted to stay in bed.

Chan’s grip on you was looser than it was last time, but it was you who didn’t want to move. You were far too comfortable and the kitchen was too many steps away and preparing food was going to take too long, but then-

Pots bang outside. Silence, then a muffled argument. You hide a snort in Chan’s collarbone.

Yeah. It was time to get up.

Speaking of Chan, he continues to snore away, legs tangled in yours as he clutches you to his chest. With a sigh, you gently squirm out of his hold, pressing a kiss to his chest as you begin to sit up. You stretch your legs with a groan, mentally preparing yourself for the cold now that you didn’t have Chan basically burritoed around you. You set a foot down on the floor, ready to leave-

-but then an arm wraps tight around your waist, dragging you back down on the bed with a tug.

Chan huffs against your neck. “Where’re you goin?”

You startle. “Have you been awake this whole time?”

“Nah.” Chan mumbles, but then pulls back to look at you suspiciously, puffy eyes narrowed. “Why? Were you doing something suspicious?”

“Yes,” you snort, but don’t elaborate further. Chan squawks when you try to get out of his hold again, and you half-groan and half-laugh when he refuses to budge. “Yah, let me go. I need to cook breakfast. Our kids are gonna wake up and start throwing tantrums soon.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you would have thought Chan had fallen back asleep if it wasn’t for the smile you felt pressed against your skin.

You blink. “What?”

“Our kids?” Chan repeats, and you flush a bright red.

“Yeah, well-“ You splutter, caught off guard. “Ou-our kids are gonna starve soon if you don’t let me out of this bed.”

Chan just shakes his head, messy hair flying everywhere. “Minho’s old enough to cook now.”

“And Minho’s going to break down this door and drag you both out of bed to help him cook if you don’t get up in the next minute!”

You and Chan startle at the voice just outside the door, unmistakably Minho’s. You both gape at the door.

“Were you just standing there and listening to us, you creep?!” Chan exclaims, and Minho scoffs.

“I was on my way to wake you so we can eat, but I had to stop and listen first lest I open this door to see your cock and balls-“

“Okay!” You scream, interrupting Minho before he could go on any farther.

“Two minutes!” Minho shouts from outside the door, banging it on twice for good measure. “And no funny business! Keep your dick in your boxers, Bang Chan!”

You feel your face heat up as you hear scandalized shouts from outside— a sharp “it’s six am! Six! ” from Jeongin, a cut-off “He’s getting some this earl-“ from Hyunjin— and protests from the others who have woken up as well.

Chan buries his squeaky laugh against your neck, shoulders shaking with laughter. You shove at his chest with a groan, though the corners of your lips are quirked.

He barely budges from your shove, but he pulls you close again like you’ve been separated. “Our kids are awake, it seems.”

“Awake and already this annoying. Let me go, Bang. I need to shove some food in their mouths to shut them up.”

Chan surprisingly relents at that, turning around abruptly and clutching the blankets to his bare chest. Cold air crawls up your arms, and you miss his warmth almost immediately.

“Fine.” You feel and hear Chan’s pout despite not seeing it, and you try in vain to suppress a grin. “Leave me here. Cold. And alone. I could die, you know. I guess you want me to die.”

You laugh, curling behind Chan’s back and sliding your hand up his chest, relishing in his shiver. “Come on, you big baby. Get up in five minutes and wake your other kids up. Long day ahead of you.”

You slip away after a prolonged kiss to Chan’s cheek, squeezing his bicep as you get up. You’re just opening the door when Chan says something unintelligible, making you halt.

“What was that?”

“Ours.” Chan repeats, and your heart skips. “Our kids.”

Though you knew he was teasing you for the slip, you still see the tips of his ears redden. The smile that blooms across your face this time can’t be stopped, and you’re positive your face is just as the same shade of tomato as his is, but you still tap the doorway, teasing.

“Five minutes then, daddy. Our kids are waiting.”

And like any unfortunate event, Hyunjin chooses to pass by at that exact moment, freezing in his tracks when he processes what he just heard. Your mouth snaps shut, and you close your eyes as you pretend the Earth swallows you whole. Chan peeks from behind the blanket and starts laughing.

“Oh my god. She does have a daddy kink!”

#bang chan x reader #bang chan scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan fluff #skz imagines #cottoncandy #storiesatsea #i luv chan. like n reblog if u luv chan #posted this on his bday last year 🥹#bang chan imagines

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— DEMONOLOGY AND HEARTACHE

SUMMARY : dean is a devout catholic and has never known a life outside the church, all his resolve is broken by the temptation of a hellish seductress

PAIRING : priest!dean winchester x demon!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : explicit(18+), smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), corruption kink, praise kink, priest au, priest kink, sub/dom dynamics, sub!dean, defiling holy stuff

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from an atreyu song. dean’s not undercover, just pure corruption. I’m going to hell. my sister said his seed is holy, lmaoo. this one fills my “Go to hell!”/“Where do you think I came from?” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. enjoy Dean’s holy seed (and I’m sorry if y’all are religious, I used to be religious, too, to make it worse) XX

Green eyes illuminated by moonlight. They flit across the dark and empty space of the nave casually. There’s a draught that makes him shudder, but he remains unphased. He makes sure the lights are off, double checks that the doors and windows are closed, and continues onward to his room to rest for the night.

He’s still in his vestments, blending in with the darkness. He only becomes darker in the shadows of the hallways, making his way to the staircase leading to his room. The wooden stairs creak beneath his formal shoes, olden oak that’s more silent in the day thunders in the silent dark.

A crucifix greets him when he’s at the top of the staircase and making the sign of the cross automatically, but slowly, with reverence. Moonlight kisses his delicate features; green eyes twinkle like a billion stars, gold lashes like the lustre of the sun’s reflection on the moon’s surface, freckles show clearly now beneath the exposing light.

His splendour is unmatched even inside the grand cathedral.

He makes his way blindly to his bedroom and wipes a hand over his stubble, scratching lightly at his jaw, thoughtfully planning out his next day. He gets to his room and begins to toe off his shoes as he pushes the door open all the way.

He expects moonlight to strike his face, but it’s quiet and dark. He can smell firewood and something foul, unfamiliar. He thinks nothing of it, he can feel the breeze pushing between his curtains, and assumes it’s something outside. He turns around to shut the door and holds the wall for balance as he pulls his shoes off all the way.

“Father,” he hears a soft voice, unknown to him. He turns quickly, half-scared, half-confused: how did someone get up here and why is there a woman in my room? were the first questions asked in his mind. The dim light on his bedside table lights up his room and reveals a nun in her nightgown sitting on his bed.

He recognises her now and relaxed, only slightly. She’s new and arrived two weeks ago. Sister… something or another; it’s been a busy couple of weeks.

She watches him curiously, her brows furrow and her eyes mysterious. She leans back casually on her arms, too relaxed for his comfort. The top of her nightgown undone, two strings hang loosely over her breasts. A chill teases his spine and rides up to the top of his head, prickling the freckled skin of his body. He doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?” He asks quietly, offering his hand to her to get her to stand from his bed. She stares at it indifferently. “You should be in your quarters,” he adds, reaching out for her arm instead.

“I’ve been thinking about what I confessed to you yesterday, Father,” she murmurs, shaking her arm out of his hand. He sighs tiredly, but smiles kindly at her anyway. He can’t remember her confession, everyone confesses multiple times about multiple things, and goes to him—searching for repentance.

“You’re forgiven, you need to move forward,” he reassures her.

“I don’t think I can,” she replies almost instantly. He raises a brow, but lets her continue. “Does that… make me a bad person?” She asks, concern and guilt laces her voice.

“No, it makes you human.” He purses his lips and takes her soft hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You should sleep, we can talk tomorrow,” he tries again, loosening his grip on her cool hand, but she keeps holding onto it.

He narrows his eyes, his jaw clenches when she lifts her cotton gown. He raises a brow when she’s standing up on her knees, and a crease forms between his eyebrows. Her other hand curls around the back of his neck and he opens his mouth to question her, moving back slightly. Instead, her grip becomes firm and her warm lips press against his lips and he stiffens, confused.

He can feel her hand around his wrist moving and her gown ruffles. He feels her warmth beneath his fingers, wetness against his fingertips, that makes him gasp and pull away. He snatches his hand away from between her legs and sees that she’s smiling knowingly.

“What are you doing?” He asks in disbelief, but his heart is pounding, sending blood to his cock. “You need to leave,” he clears his throat. Heat, like hellfire, washes over his body, and turns away to hide himself when his face flushes and his cock twitches.

“Come on, Father,” she murmurs provocatively. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply before turning to face her with a glare. “I know what you’ve been dreaming of,” she laughs mischievously, sitting back on her legs. She pulls down the top of her nightgown, freeing her breast to play with her nipple. Her other hand moves down between her legs, she opens herself by parting her legs, and starts to tease her wet slit while he watches.

“Go to hell!” He shouts at her, looking away and trying to get out of his room. He reaches the doorknob and gets the door open only for it to slam shut.

“Where do you think I came from?” She asks darkly, and his stomach sinks. He shakes the doorknob wildly and pulls as hard as he can, but it doesn’t budge. He feels her hand grab the back of his shirt and she flings him across the room so he lands on the bed. He scrambles up on it and tries to get away when her eyes flash completely black. “You’re getting rusty, Dean, ignoring all those omens,” she shakes her head and tsks, climbing up on the bed with him.

He thinks about what she says, he never thought much about the mutilations because of the wolves that roam freely, or the electrical storms because of the cold and the usage of heaters, or the crop failures due to the weather. He shouldn’t have brushed it off, but he hadn’t encountered demonic activity in years. This whole time, it was circling him and he didn’t even notice.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he starts to whisper, grabbing the rosary from around his neck. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incur-” She grabbed the rosary from him roughly, quieting the exorcism from continuing, and stared at it with a wicked smile before pulling it harshly.

“That won’t work on me, baby.” The beads fell over his body when the rosary snapped. Wooden beads and black beads bounce on his bed, then scatter loudly onto the floor, rolling and sliding across wood until they stop on their own or hit a wall.

“You… you were making me dream all those things,” he accuses breathlessly. She nods wordlessly, stepping in between his parted legs with her hands on his bent knees. She bites her lip, stares lustfully at the black attire he wears. A holy man.

“I know… you liked it,” she whispers, causing him to swallow nervously. “I watched you pleasure yourself every time you woke up,” she admits shamelessly, fingers meeting his belt to get it off. He squirmed and grabbed her hand to stop her, but his cock was hard just remembering his hedonistic actions and the lewd dreams that haunted him every night for weeks. “What was it like dreaming of how soft I feel? Do you think your hand feels as good as I do inside? Do you want my mouth like you loved using it in your dreams?” She continues to tease, leaning over him, hands sliding up the front of his body.

He was warm and taut beneath her hands. His body hums with pleasure, he aches to touch her despite knowing it was wrong. He craves to feel her body beneath his own, wrapped around him so tightly. He hates himself for it, but it’s all his mind could think of, especially when he could feel her warm breath over his tingly lips.

“What do you want from me?” He asks quietly, staring deeply into her black eyes. She blinks and they return to normal eyes again, a sweet smile growing on her face. It could’ve fooled him, that warmth that sparkled inside—it must actually be hellfire.

“I want you to beg me to fuck you, I want you to need it really bad,” she whispered hotly, tracing the buttons on his shirt. He swallowed anxiously, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of her pink lips and soft skin, supple breasts in plain sight, smooth thighs pressed against his. His whole body longed for the feel of her lips, her hands, for everything of hers to be on him.

“I… I can’t do that,” he choked out. He grabs her hands and moves them away from his body then scoots up on his bed to put some distance between them.

“You can,” she encourages him with a wicked smile, crawling up to him. “You will,” she promises, reaching between his legs for his belt.

He squirms, weakly attempting to push her away because that’s what his instincts told him to do. She’s a demon, he’s a priest. She is unholy and he’s supposed to be an intermediary for God, Jesus, the angels, the Holy Spirit, and everything else that’s good. He can’t just lay with a woman, especially when she comes directly from hell.

She didn’t make a single move. She just waited for him and her hair fell prettily over her shoulder when she tilted her head at him expectantly. Her skin looked smooth and her lips were pink and they looked soft. He could easily remember what they looked like around his cock in his dreams. He didn’t want to give in to her, he spent years in the church, he has every scripture memorised, and he’s helped hundreds of people without expecting so much as a thanks.

But he wanted to really feel what he’d felt in his dreams for two weeks. He craved it like he’d never craved sex before—or anything else for that matter. Here, in a holy place was a very sexy woman in his bed, a woman who crawled her way out of hell and became fixated on him. For weeks, she tormented him, planted herself in his dreams and gave him glimpses of her in real life as a nun covered from head to toe.

Now, she sat between his legs, with nothing underneath her sleeping gown. The pure white dress hid the true darkness of her soul. He rubbed his fingers together, though they were dry, his slacks tightened just remembering the feel of her wet folds against his fingertips. He’d never been this hard and desperate before, it usually went away quickly when the guilt of his libidinous thoughts consumed him.

He’d never done anything bad before, never strayed from his teachings or from the rules. Here she was, tempting him to take a bite of her, tempting him to give himself to her for her pleasure, for his pleasure. Demon or not, no one’s ever gone out of their way to get to him, that was a messed up thought, but it turned him on.

“Please,” he chokes out. It shocked him. He stared at her in surprise, but she just looked back at him arrogantly. Slowly, as if waiting for his protest, she tugged his belt and got the leather out of the buckle. He started to breathe heavily, aroused by her gaze and thought of being defiled.

She starts to pull the belt from the loops of his slacks and he willingly lifts his hips when it catches beneath him. He gives in easily when she pops the button out of the slit. He even lets his head fall back into the pillow and rolls his hips upwards when she slowly pulls the zipper down.

She starts to pull his pants down, he can feel the rough scrap of his boxers against his skin when she tries to do it all at once. He doesn’t care anymore, with his thumbs hooked at the sides, he pulls them down with her help. He can feel the cool air kiss his cock, slowly as she exposes him. He moans softly when he’s fully free, he knows there’s precum leaking at the slit, it feels colder.

He feels like a wanton whore and he’s barely made a sound. He can hear the delicate fabric of his clothes hit the floor, it makes him feel more excited.

“Wow, you really are blessed,” she murmurs, her warm breath blowing over his cock. He fists the sheets, feels it twitch instantly, and opens his eyes to stare at her. “It’s just as pretty as the rest of you,” she praises, keeping eye contact with him. He bites his lip and he’s about to respond with a ‘shut up’ when she lets a string of her saliva drip onto his tip.

The words catch in his throat. She leans forward, her soft hair falls over her face, and her tongue makes contact with the warm head of his cock. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when she hums at the taste of him. His body stiffens and it feels even better than he dreamed. When he lets his head fall back into the pillow, he catches a glimpse of the crucifix over his bed. She turned it upside down.

“Father,” she whispers, “don’t look away from me.” He looks back at her, her soft hands manoeuvre his body so he has his knees bent upwards again. He feels exposed, vulnerable, sinful, and dirty.

“Don’t call me that,” he requests softly. He reaches for her jaw to guide her back down onto him. That excites her, he can see her eyes livening. His stomach flutters.

“Dean,” she sneers when she wraps her hand around the base of his cock and starts to twist her hand upwards. He growls lowly, shyly lifts his arm, and puts it over his eyes. “I prefer calling you Father. It makes this way hotter. Don’t you think?” She asks teasingly and then laughs.

“No….” He trailed off, spreading his legs a little wider when she leaned forward to kiss his stomach.

“Call me whatever you want, Father,” she whispers against his skin, trailing her lips downwards as she jerks him off. “Whore, demon, hellspawn… Sister,” she smirks when he whines, then sucks on his hip bone. A red mark blossoms on his skin. “I’m so wet,” she tells him, teasingly flattering her palm over the tip of his dick, “this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” He watches the little smirk on her face and while he’s curious about what she does in hell, he can feel his impending release.

“Please,�� he begs quietly. It makes her stop instead. She puts one hand on the inside of his thigh and spreads him open the way a man would do to a woman and she stares down at him curiously. He wiggles to close his legs but she’s stronger than he is, and keeps him as she has him. She pulls gently at his balls, then pushes, and eventually finds a pace where it starts to feel more intense.

“Jesus Christ,” she murmurs with a chuckle, “you’re so fucking sexy.” He flushes at her words and watches her lean down to suck on his balls. He moans loudly and tangles his hand in her hair, then tugs so she moves upwards. “You’re built like a god, any man would be jealous,” she teases, letting him guide her.

“Do what you did in my dreams,” he suggests, then slid his hand down her shoulder and inside the top of her nightgown. He fondled her breasts and innocently held eye contact with her.

“What did I do?” She asks playfully, placing one small kiss on his leaking cock. He glares at her, but she shrugs like she has no idea what he’s talking about. She continues to tease him instead, bites down on his thigh and sucks until he’s whining.

“Please, suck it,” he begs bashfully, pulling his hand out of the gown. She moves up his body, he’s sure it’s to embarrass him when she stares down at him.

“Suck what?” He groans at her question, lifts both hands to tug frustratedly at his hair. She moves away nonchalantly, slowly begins to lift the white gown upwards, revealing inch by glorious inch of her perfect body. He watches her touch herself with his mouth parted in astonishment, her hands play with her breasts and she teases herself between her legs.

“Suck my cock, please, I want to feel your mouth,” he rushes out quickly. He sits up and takes her waist, dragging her forward until he has his warm mouth on her nipple.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Dean,” she promises, playing with his hair. She rubs her thighs together and lets him switch from one nipple to the other. He stares up at her the whole time, his eyes shimmering with lust. “I hope this haunts you forever,” she sneers. Giving his hair a sharp tug to move him away forcefully and go down on him. He grunts softly and wraps his hand around his cock, slowly sliding a dry hand up and down.

“That’s my job,” she scolds, slapping his hand away. She settles between his legs, and without warning, she wraps her lips around the tip, sending a sharp electric feeling running up his spine. It’s unbelievable how wet she feels around him, how warm her mouth feels engulfing him inch by inch. His stomach becomes taut with the way she runs her tongue along the bottom vein, sucking when she lifts up slightly, then does it over and over.

Her slowness drives him crazy. She was merciless in his dreams, passionate and focused on making him reach the ultimate pleasure, but now, she’s just torturing him. One of her hands follows her mouth and the other slides up his chest beneath the buttoned black shirt. Her nails scrape his chest gently but her fingers brush teasingly against his nipple. He arches his back and moans loudly, he doesn’t care that the night amplifies his voice and carries his pretty noises quickly down the halls of the holy church.

She slides her hand away from his chest and blindly finds his wrist. He grips the sheets tightly, moaning and groaning. The sounds he made travelled to her clit, it pulsed, her walls clenched around nothing, and she dripped between her legs with a flood of warm heat. He let her place his hand on her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. She’s not going to give him what he wants, she wants him to take what he wants. It’s the ultimate goal for her, to make him loosen up and fuck her mouth.

“Please, I want…” he trails off, both his hands now resting on her head. She drools around his cock and hums when he pushes her down farther. She wants to shove him deeper into her, to take him fast and hard, but it turns her on more to make him needy and desperate. To make him be the one that uses her demonic mouth and hellish body for his pleasure.

She holds onto the back of his thighs and pushes them so they’re almost at his chest. When her nose is pressed against his pelvis and she swallows around him, he holds her there.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moans, his balls draw inwards and his stomach coils. She moans softly and starts to pull off him, only to start sucking and bobbing her head up and down just as he wanted her to. He gets louder somehow and rougher, his grip on her hair is almost painful. The sounds of her throat getting fucked makes him shudder and squirm. He needs to cum so bad. “Yes, don’t stop…” he breathes out.

She hums again, he thought it was a promise that she wouldn’t stop, but when he makes that specific grunt he tends to make when he’s about to cum and when he stiffens and gasps, the warmth of her wet mouth is replaced by the drag of cool air from the room.

He whines and his eyes fly open. He watches her smirk and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She still has one hand on his thigh, bending him and keeping him open. He gets shy again, but she doesn’t let him keep his dignity. She gets closer to him and she leans over him to whisper, “you taste so good, Father, I’d imagine it’s all the holy fuckery you consume and spew to others…”

“It turns me on. You make me so wet and needy. Your mouth is mine.” She kisses him softly, even though her words offend him. He glares at her for her blasphemy, but his eyes close when her soft, sweet lips make contact with his. The tenderness of her kiss fools him, takes his mind off her offensive expressions, and keeps him complacent.

Her tongue prods at his lips. Her lewdness makes him eager, she’s thorough, licking across his lips slowly. When he opens his mouth to her, her kiss is hungry. She traces the inside of his mouth with her tongue, like a cartographer, she’s precise and she makes him breathless. She barely pulls away, allowing him to catch his breath temporarily before resuming.

She’s warm when her tongue brushes against his, velvety and sweet. She tastes like wine and fruit, bitter and sweet. The taste of her is divine, opposing her unholy nature and the filthy words she uses to worship him. She pulls away again and straddles his hips. He barely recovers from her kiss when he feels her rub herself over his cock.

He feels his stomach do flips like a dog excited to show his master tricks for a treat. She moans softly and continues rolling her hips. He bends his knees and grasps her thighs painfully, watches between their bodies how she slides her wetness up and down his cock. She begins to unbutton his shirt and carelessly throw the clerical collar behind her when she fully gets the shirt open.

“Wait,” he stops her breathlessly, “is this your body?”

She raises a brow and looks down at herself with a nod. “Had to dig it out of a hole in the forest. I was a witch, a badass one. Those stupid hunters,” she grumbles the last bit under her breath, lifts herself up and positions his tip at her entrance. He raises a brow, too, a smile of amusement grew on his lips as he bit down on it. “Why? Do you like it?” She smirks, but his response is cut off by a moan when she lowers herself on his cock.

She feels even better than he dreamed. He huffs out a breath, he feels sweatier with the shirt and the suit jacket he still wears, but if she doesn’t feel like letting him take it off, he doesn’t mind. She grinds down on him and finds his hands to place one on her breasts and the other between her legs.

“You feel fucking amazing inside me, Dean,” she praises. His stomach lurches, the use of his name turns him on more, and he bucks his hips up. With a little moan she starts to lift herself up, he can feel every inch of her against his cock, the wetness, the warmth. He doesn’t think he’ll last as long as he did in his dreams. He carefully thumbs between her folds and feels for her clit. Her gasp guides him and he gently flicks it until she’s riding him faster. She leans back against his bent legs, arches her back, and he squeezes her breast roughly. “That’s right, you’re doing so good,” she says softly, spreading her legs to open herself more to his adept fingers.

Her words spur him on, the bedsprings start to squeak, the headboard starts to hit the wall, the upside down crucifix rattles on the wall. His senses are high. She feels amazing wrapped around his cock, her breathy moans fuel the fire of his orgasm. She tightens and squeezes around him, walls clamping down and keeping him inside her. He starts to get louder, too, he can’t help it. Groans slip from his lips and he whimpers occasionally, he can feel her react each time, and he doesn’t plan on shutting up.

“You’re so good, so goddamned perfect,” she cries softly, it’s the hottest thing he’s heard or seen. She gets sloppy and desperate, staring down at him covetously. He stares back, even if he wants to shut his eyes and hide away from her gaze. He rubs around her clit faster and watches her fall apart, little by little.

She sounds, looks, and feels even hotter. In his dreams, he understood her intentions and how hot it would be if they had sex, but the reality of it is far more intense and intimate compared to any of his dreams. She filled his mind with fantasies he’d never had before. Having sex in the confessional, on the altar, in the Bishop’s office, and countless locations that were far too holy—in his opinion—being defiled by both of them. He pinches her nipple roughly, she moans and tightens around him. Then, he flicks her clit faster, watches her seize while whining his name.

“Be a good boy and cum for me, Dean. Want you to fill me up,” she says breathlessly. He throbs inside of her and whimpers involuntarily, feeling himself spill inside her as if his body worked according to her commands.

“God,” he moans, bucking his hips upwards. He abandons her clit and her breast, and bruisingly digs his fingers into her thighs. He moans softly, letting the orgasm take over his body and mind. He pulls her down with both hands on her hips and keeps her on his cock shortly, her walls flutter and she inhales sharply. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes half-open.

“Holy fuck,” she gasps, toes curling as she falls apart at the sensation of his cum warming her up. She slowly moves up and down, letting him feel every inch of her pulsing walls along his throbbing cock. Her fingers find her clit to intensify and lengthen her orgasm, finishing what he’d begun. She doesn’t expect his tenderness, but he sits up and tangles his hand into her hair and kisses her deeply.

He mimics how she’d kissed him earlier. His inexperienced tongue traces the roof of her mouth and he brushes his tongue timidly against hers. She deepens the kiss, encourages him to keep doing what he wants to do and tugs his hair. His quiet moans make her horny again and he pulls away. Now that she’s abandoned her clit, she shoves his clothes off his shoulders.

She kisses his neck and his chest. His mind starts to drift now that he’s basking in the afterglow, her lips ghost downward and she lightly touches his nipple with the tip of her tongue. He stiffens and focuses on her again. She moves off his softened cock which is coated in a mixture of their release. She chuckles and then beholds him in his entirety.

He glows and he’s flushed, pink and shiny with sweat. His cock rests on his thighs and he has a mark on his hip from her lips. His lips are swollen, almost red from biting them, coated in saliva—hers and his. His hair is a mess, sexy and soft. He looks guilty now, but she moves forward and looks him in the eyes when she licks the cum off his sensitive cock.

“Don’t worry, Father,” she murmurs before sucking gently on the tip. He gasps and clutches her hair, pulling her off him forcibly. “Even for this… they’ll forgive you, Dean,” she whispers darkly. She gets off the bed and he watches her walk to the small altar he has. She steals a white cloth then walks around his room curiously. She stops in front of a photograph of Jesus and she opens her legs to clean herself.

His eyes widen as he watches her, “hey, come here.” He takes her attention away successfully and watches her drop her leg to walk towards him. “Why are you interested in me?” Is the first question that comes to mind as he panics. “Will you… be less interested in me if I sin more, like we did tonight?” He has the feeling part of her interest in him is simply the fact that he is the weakest, the most susceptible to sin, lust, and making mistakes.

“No… because you’re not going to stray from your beliefs,” she reassures him. “You actually believe, because of your father. Stay the way you are, Dean. You’re going to repent and you’ll mean it, but when you’re with me… you’ll sin again and I’ll defile you, over and over,” she smiles down at him and then climbs onto his bed again, she settles behind him, leaning against the headboard and the wall.

“Until when?” He asks, turning around to look at her.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, then her eyes flicker down to her body. She parts her folds with two fingers. “Taste me,” she tells him. He tears his eyes from her face to look between her legs. His mouth waters and he slowly gets down into his stomach and stares back up at her. He gently prods her clit with his tongue, her other hand moves into his hair while his tongue slides between her two fingers. “Don’t you worry about the when right now… you and I will have our fun.”

➥ god, if you are above

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reticent-writer · 1 year

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Hellooo may I ask a headcanon of Muzan with a child reader, the reader has flower powers(meaning the reader can grow blue spider lilies) and when the hashiras knew about it, they decided to kidnap them? I wanna see what Muzan and the upper moons reaction would beeeee

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉsorry for the wait

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

P1(current), P2, P3, P4, P5, P6

Blood demon art.

Muzan had assumed you didn't have one until one day you ran up to him with a blue spider lily.

"Papa. Papa! I made a flower. The flower you always talk about. I thought real hard and it popped out of the ground." You practically screamed at him jumping up and down. l He wouldn't be able to keep up with you if it wasn't for the flower in your hands.

He picked you up and examined the flower in your hands. He smiled, a smile that make you feel proud. There are very few times Muzan gives affection and right now is one of them.

You cherish this memory.

It's been a year since then and you've been helping your father making demons stronger.

Muzan had made a special room for you that looks like a flower field. Here you practiced your art or just hung out because it was peaceful. sometimes you wished to see an actual flower field but your father didn't want to risk it.

The demon slayers knew he had a child. Every attempt at taking you ending in failure.

"hey y/n I think you've made enough for today. You don't want to overexert yourself." Akaza came into your room, wary not to step on any flowers you made.

You turned to face him with a bouquet of blue spider lilies in your hand. "Okay I was just about to finish anyway. I wanna give these to father." You walked past him barely being able to hold up the flowers.

Akaza chuckled and took the flowers out of your hand. He took one out of the bundle and gave it to you for your 'hard work' as he said.

making it to your father (I'll leave it up to you where he is) Akaza kneeled and presented the flowers to your father.

"My dear y/n, you've done well." He patted you head. "Tomorrow is yours, do with it what you want." He dismissed you and Akaza.

"Akaza, Do you think that I can go outside tomorrow? Father said that the day was mine." You asked excitedly as you bounced around the demon.

"I don't think he will like that. No"

you already had your mind set though.

-----

sneaking out of the infinity castle was easy seeing as no one expected you to leave.

'Good, it's night time.'

Walking out of the abandoned village you wondered off into the forest not caring about the turns you took.

Walking for what felt like hours you catch a glimpse of purple flowers hanging on what seemed like a hotel. (Where tanjiro went with inosuke and zenitsu to heal)

Getting closer to the flowers you feel your lungs start to hurt. It developed into your vision getting blurry.

You tried to turn away but by then you body had enough. You passed out.

'Soft' was the first thing you thought when you gain consciousness.

You vision was now coming back into focus, looking around you saw that you were in a room with a small window at the top.

The sun was coming up.

Trying to scoot away from the deadly rays you notice the you are bound to the blanket wrapped around you.

You hands cuffed in front of you with chains tight around the blanket you were in. Like a straight jacket you couldn't move freely.

"What are we going to do with it?"

"Turn it in obviously we can't have muzan's child walking freely."

You heard voices that got louder as they approached you.

"Papa help please." You wimpered. You had no idea what could have happened to you.

*with Muzan*

Hearing your cry from deep in his mind he was enraged.

He assembled the upper moons.

"How on earth does my child get taken. Did any of you know where they were going or how they even get out?" He already knew the answer but he want them to say it.

"My apologies master. They asked to go outside but I never thought they would actually go." Akaza was sweating bullets just breathing in front of him right now. "I do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

"Then you, Akaza, will go get them. If even a hair on their head is out of place your punishment will be severe."

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

Requests are now open. I feel a lot better now　

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scuttling · 11 months

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Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far.

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines.

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is.

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days.

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around.

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying.

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain.

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face.

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?”

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.”

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.”

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear.

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay.

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.”

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe.

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob.

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.”

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.”

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high.

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure.

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him!

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner.

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night.

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM.

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk.

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked.

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.”

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.”

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob.

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.” He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?”

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders.

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry.

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead.

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether.

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before.

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods.

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be.

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table.

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head.

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm.

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around.

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.”

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…”

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind.

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true. “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right.

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything.

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side.

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road.

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least.

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw.

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s.

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose.

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped.

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying.

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips.

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.”

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.”

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home.

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.”

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.”

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand.

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?”

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like…

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before.

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.”

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his.

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it.

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life.

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek.

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck.

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers.

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart.

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life.

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind.

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head.

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss.

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure.

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?”

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his.

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans.

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap.

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body.

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin.

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together.

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck.

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster.

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed.

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has.

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder.

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter.

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head.

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.”

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but…

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.”

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them.

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.”

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before.

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.”

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs.

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?”

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.”

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs.

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long.

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?”

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…”

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head.

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere.

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly.

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.”

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned.

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it.

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.”

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?”

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?”

“You’re alright.”

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to.

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest.

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.”

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention.

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.”

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one.

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this.

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.”

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage.

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet.

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice.

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch.

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?”

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea.

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?”

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t.

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.”

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs.

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug.

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.”

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.”

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes.

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town.

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s.

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement.

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back.

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers.

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home.

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.”

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm.

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days.

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line.

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack.

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.”

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress.

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?”

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects.

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone.

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?”

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.”

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious.

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss.

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands.

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back.

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.”

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts.

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes.

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again.

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength.

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders.

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.”

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together.

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away.

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips.

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.”

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication.

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh.

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her.

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same.

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.”

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight saga: new moon #twilight fanfic #jacob black #jacob black fanfic #jacob black x reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x original female character

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naffeclipse · 6 months

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Have you considered writing a cowboy DCA au? Or a vampire AU?

I have ideas for both! I mention my Vampire AU in my Laundry List of AUs Post, but I haven't talked about a Cowboy AU yet!

For my cowboy AU, Y/N owns a prairie house and a small patch of land out in the wild west. You work hard and make do even though you're falling behind on payments and falling deeper into debt and danger of the bank taking your property back. It's a tough life. You know that.

Nothing exciting happens around here until one day you see a figure riding in from the distance. An animatronic on a horse. You're a bit weary of strangers, especially out here, where cattle rustlers and outlaws are aplenty, so you greet the rider with a shotgun. He's all smiles and hand waves, his sun rays partly hidden underneath his hat. There's a shiny pistol in the holster on his belt and a rifle hanging off his back. A large bag is strapped to the saddle. He's careful to not reach for something he shouldn't, and you let him dismount to talk to you, lowering your weapon.

He reassures you he means no trouble and that he just needs shelter for the night, if you don't mind. He's more than willing to offer a helping hand in exchange. He's a talker, sweet and charming, and you're not in a position to refuse extra farm help. You put him to work. He does it all without complaint which you appreciate.

There's a moment when you take a break from the back-breaking work to lie down in the field, staring up at the sky. Your eyes end up closing. You feel a gentle shadow over you. When you look up, Sun is there, casting blissfully cool shade and asking if it's alright for him to stand here. You tell him it's just fine. You ask him if there's any worry of him overheating. He says no, but thank you kindly for the concern.

Later, when you check in the barn, you notice that the large bag that was on his horse is now gone.

You don't want any trouble.

At sundown, when you call for him to come inside, you're greeted with a different animatronic, still smiling and soothing and promising that it's the same cowboy, please put the shotgun down. You've never met an animatronic like him. Sun. Moon. You let him come inside.

You spend a quiet night with the cowboy. He helps you clean up your dishes even though he had no part in the mess-making. There's little talk of where he came from or where he's going, but he mentions lying low for a while. You don't want to know. You don't ask. He asks if he might touch the guitar you have there in the corner. You tell him that's fine. You haven't played it in a long time. He serenades the night with plucked chords and twaining strings, and somehow, you fall asleep listening to the gentle strums and wake up the next morning in your bed.

Sun greets you all cheerful. You don't know what to feel about having another around to talk to... but you're adjusting. He asks for another day's work for another night's lodging. You agree. He smiles so big you're afraid he'll burst.

You get a visit from a fellow farmer (Sun makes himself scarce on the rare chance a visitor comes) who talks about the news, the gangs rolling through the valley, the cattle missing, and a distant bank just recently robbed. You shake your head.

Later, in the barn, you're shifting hay on the hayloft when you step back and expect to find solid flooring but there's nothing but air and you're falling—then caught in solid arms. Sun exclaims how you have to be careful! You would have gotten hurt. You wish he would put you down already, holding you like this turns you all red and embarrassed. Even when he sets you on your feet, Sun insists he finishes with the hay up top. Your pride is awfully stung but the ghost of his arms around you chases you outside and it's only there that you can finally think clearly after all the excitement.

When night falls, Moon helps you deal with a fox in the chicken pen but in chasing off the fiend, something snaps along his arm when he hops a fence and you know that ugly sound means something's broken. Wires spark in the dark. You rush to his side faster than you've ever run. You gingerly hold his arm and guide him back home to fix the damage done even though you're only a support to his injury, and he, thankfully, can tend to himself. He says he's learned how to take care of little problems like these since he's been running by himself for a while. You almost ask what he did before he came here but you don't dare. You told yourself you didn't want trouble. Getting attached will do nothing but stir up your feelings. There will be no one else to blame if your heart gets broken.

He picks at the guitar strings to test his repair and sings a little song that you swear you won't fall asleep to but, again, you wake up in your bed when you know you didn't tuck yourself in. Sun is already outside, getting a jumpstart on the day's chores.

The cowboy stays another night, then another, and then a few weeks have flown by. You get a visitor from the bank asking for payment or else they're taking your land and everything on it. You chase off the man, spitting mad, but you're still in troubled waters. You're going to lose all you have. Sun witnesses the encounter from a distance but you don't speak of it all day. Then, Sun finds you when the sun burns red across the sky.

He talks softly to you and before you know it, he's leading you by the hand and spinning you in a little dance you've never danced before. Sun leads, and you follow because he's the last light you have, and when he dips you low, you rise with the Moon in the near darkness, dancing and dancing on dirt. You've never held a hand that felt so right with his arms twirling you around and around—you almost forget you're going to lose it all.

Besides the crackle of the fire in your hearth that night, Moon coaxes you to talk about the money you owe and your pride almost bites your tongue off but you do it anyway. Moon asks when the bank man is going to come again. You tell him in the morning but you don't want charity. You don't need it. You owe enough debts as it is. He gives you a grin that is too mischievous for his own good.

That night, you lean against his shoulder when he plays a gentle song, a ballad about lovers falling and magnolias blooming. You wake up in your bed but it's still dark out and Moon is gone. You get up to find him but he's already at the door, holding a large bag—the one that was missing from his saddle. He tells you to pay the bank when they come and get a receipt. You ask him what in blue blazes he's doing with a bag full of money but he shoves it in your hands. Morning spills across the land. Then it's Sun winking at you. The bank is coming. He tells you he needs to go now, but he promises to come back for you.

You tell him you can't owe him like this—you'll never be able to repay it. Sun promises that you won't owe him anything, he'll get the money back.

You can hardly be angry before he's on his horse and taking off into the distance. You curse yourself out for being a fool and having a heart that wants to stick roots into anything that lingers longer for a day and for having this bag of money that isn't yours and for letting that cowboy dance and serenade you, but when the bank sends another man to collect, you pay it all. You get that receipt. The man accepts the payment and goes on his merry way, back to the bank that can no longer hound you. All of your debts are erased, thanks to the cowboy.

You don't know where he was hiding the money. You remember the news of a distant bank that was robbed.

It's only a few days later that you learn from a fellow farmer that the man carrying back your money to the bank was ambushed. An animatronic outlaw caught him alone. He stole the entire bag of cash. The farmer laughs when he says the bank man was madder than a wet hen. He also remarks that he's surprised they didn't come after you for more money, but you had a receipt. They can't touch you.

After the farmer leaves, you sit in a daze and then curse the cowboy out again. You still owe him.

You didn't want trouble, yet here you are, all twitterpated and waiting for when he comes down from the horizon.

#okay that's like the beginning but there's a very dangerous gang and sun/moon weren't always running on his own #and of course he comes back #but he accidentally brings the very thing he was running from back to you oops #turns out he's a slippery fellow and well someone wants him #and you're the sweetest honey to use to catch their fly #cowboy au #cowboy!sun #cowboy!moon #magnolias blooming #i didn't mean to write this much but uhhh here we are

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theminecraftbee · 3 months

Text

> check social links

(Which Social Link should I check on...?)

0 FOOL School Rescue Committee Should this really be an official school club? The group of Persona-users that I'm in now, whether I like it or not. At least I'm helping people by doing all this weird magic nonsense...

I MAGICIAN Scar A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. He's dragged me into his scam crystal-selling operation, which is actually weirdly fun.

II PRIESTESS Beef Pretty large and muscular for a priestess, but sure, I'll bite. A volunteer EMT who is trying to decide whether to follow his family's wishes for university.

III EMPRESS Gem A fellow Persona-user in my year. She wants me to help her study for entrance exams, apparently. Not sure why she's asking me, I missed an entire semester? But it's good enough study for me as well.

IV EMPEROR Impulse A fellow Persona-user in my year. He has a single-minded devotion to overworking himself, despite the fact he seems to be trying to prove it's fine for some reason.

V HIEROPHANT Xisuma An older man who hangs out in the local tea shop. Keeps trying to parent me for some reason, although it seems like his relationship with his actual family's a bit less good, so maybe that's why.

VI LOVERS Etho My lab partner. The whole school's obsessed with him for some reason. My only solace is that he seems to be just as disconcerted by that fact as I am.

VII CHARIOT Skizzleman A fellow Persona-user in my year, and my first friend in this town. I'm helping him find a part-time job. He's sort of ridiculously cheerful, but I know he understands me better than most people.

VIII JUSTICE Grian A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. Keeps dragging me into his pranks, although for such a gregarious guy, he's weirdly isolated.

IX HERMIT Joe Hills One of my teachers, and the head of the School Rescue Committee. He's, frankly, the most bizarre guy I know, and I don't know what to make of any of the "wisdom" he tries to impart on us.

X FORTUNE Tango Apparently, he's a bit of a prodigy in the robotics club, but he first came to me to confess he's considering quitting. I have no idea why this is my problem, but Impulse frowned at me about it, so here I am.

XI STRENGTH False A local martial artist who's been decorated with a number of titles. I just wanted her to teach me how to fight better, but apparently, she's starting to doubt her own fighting ability as well.

XII HANGED MAN Jimmy Igor's assistant in the Velvet Room. He's a bit of an idiot, but he's also my idiot. Mostly wants to request I escort him to places in the human world, although he wants specific fusions sometimes too.

XIII DEATH Cleo A "florist" in town who can source us weapons and fence goods from Altered Space. I'm pretty sure she's actually Yakuza, or at least criminal. She and Joe know each other, although strangely, she doesn't seem to remember from where.

XIV TEMPERANCE Iskall and Stress Two priests at the local shrine. I work for them occasionally to help them with odd jobs around town. They share some common past they don't like to talk about.

XV DEVIL Ren The student council president. He's bizarrely mad with power on a good day, which is weird, because he's also bizarrely kickable on a good day. Keeps on trying to rope me into the Student Council.

XVI TOWER Doc An inventor trying to invent a safe new clean energy source. According to rumors, his last try exploded, killing his lab partner, which constantly makes me question why I'm here.

XVII STAR Zedaph Proprietor of the famous local "Mystery Stir Fry Extravaganza". Frankly, his creations terrify me more than Doc's do. I have no idea why this is Impulse's favorite restaurant.

XVIII MOON Mumbo A fellow Persona-user in the year below me. Apparently, he still gets bullied a lot, but he has a scheme to, and I quote, 'learn to be something scary, like a horse.' Good luck with that, mate.

XIX SUN Pearl An artist that I've always admired. Recently, she was in a terrible car accident, and her hands now constantly shake because of it. I still think she can draw organic shapes better than me, though.

XX JUDGEMENT Soul Reappearance Committee Judgement. Hah. I guess you'd call this Judgement Day, sure.

XXI THE WORLD ... It's me.

#smallishsona au #a bee fic #WOO I HAVE THE FINAL LIST OF EVERYONE!#some of joel's descriptions here actually give away the social link plotline #but a FEW of them actually do not.#but WOO HERE ARE THE SOCIAL LINKS! :D

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bowieandqueen11 · 11 months

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Honeymooning With Steven Grant Would Include...

I’m so so sorry to the lovely anon who requested this - I tried to copy this into my drafts and accidentally deleted half of it :( I remember it being for honeymoon headcanons, so I hope this is alright love!

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marc-spectorr.)

Warning: nothing too explicit, but NSFW so 18+ please!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Do you have any idea?? How soft I am for this?? I am so soft I am YEARNING you have made me yearn god I love this concept so much

I feel like the two of you would go somewhere sunny: perhaps a couple of weeks in Egypt, staying in a nice resort by the Red Sea, since Steven is so fed up of the dreary London weather. Just a really nice spot, where the two of you can hire out a boat for the day, and he can sit holding you at the back and feed you strawberries. If he’s not too busy trying to taunt you with the fruit, or giggling like bursts of sunlight as you nip at his fingers, he’s leaning awkwardly over your head to give you a sweet upside down kiss. His lips are so plump, so tender as his top lip latches onto your bottom one, that for a moment the two of you are lost in a sweet abyss where the only thing that exists is the tart tang of each other’s mouths. Or, the poor man is holding onto your biceps for dear life, only being drawn away from your lips by the feel of the boat rocking wildly from side to side.

As twilight began to flood in, flitting past your eyes like a gliding moth chasing the last drop of the honey sun with its velvet tail, you and Steven perch up from where you’re entangled on the chaise longue. Underneath the silver flecks of the waves, a few hawksbill turtles languidly glider underneath the navy froth. Steven’s eyes immediately light up, seeming to glow like shining jewels against the strung lights hanging from the masts. ‘Turtles’, he whispers and points towards the water, turning to look at you as if he’d just seen true magic. You grip onto his finger and place his palm flatly against yours, doing your best not to laugh when he squeals and buries his head deeply into your neck. ‘Yes love’, you caress your free hand through his stubborn curls, ‘those are definitely turtles.’

He nearly loses his mind when a dolphin appears above the crest of the water line. He has to lie down for a little bit against your chest, panting like crazy and his heart racing a mile per minute because even though it’s day one, he’s becoming a bit overwhelmed by all of this bless him. You just snuggle down around him, rubbing your nose against the shell of his ear and whispering sweet nothings until he finally calms down. He looks so calm, so peaceful, with his pursed lips rising and falling in time with his chest, that you’re not too surprised when he begins to snore a few minutes later.

He makes you leave the hotel room before dinner for a couple of minutes while he gets dressed. With an ear pressed up against the door, you ignore the weird looks you’re getting from the elderly vacationers heading down to the dining hall as you listen to the thud of Steven falling across the floor. He seems to be... jumping, probably trying to pull his trousers up quickly, which is followed by the sound of a hanger crashing onto the floor and a squeaky ‘oh, bollocks!’. You’re pressing a finger to your lips to stop yourself erupting when he finally unlatches the door, but it immediately drops down to your side when you take him in. He’s wearing his best polka dot yellow tie and sheepish smile, gazing down in terror at his feet and back up at you. He’s got a squashed box of chocolates in one hand, and a rather pressed bouquet of roses in the other; it almost takes your breath away, since he looks almost identical to the way he arrived at your doorstep for your first date. Even though you’re married now, his arm is still shaking as he offers it to you, and he still sighs a breath of relief when you loop your own through enthusiastically.

‘I’d been dreaming of this moment ever since I first put eyes on you, you know that love?’ He manages to say between shaking words as he leans you downstairs. ‘Every night. All I could blooming think about was how lucky I would be if I could hold your hand every night. You might as well pinch me right now, ‘cause I must be blinking dreaming.’

You spend a lot of your honeymoon down by the sandy strips, sharing a sun lounger and lying together underneath the warm shelter of a beach umbrella. He would read to you, his lips brushing against the tip of each with the pronunciation of each word: hot, tingly, the inside of his lip dragging against your earlobe from time to time. Eventually, when he noticed you were starting to fall asleep from where you were tucked up around his arm, he would become like a big child. He would teasingly shove you with his shoulder with a booming ‘tag, you’re it!’, before giggling as heartily as birdsong and running off across the sand. You finally manage to rugby tackle him down after a solid ten minutes of him skiting around the place, and he looks up at you as if you hung every swinging star in the sky as you hold him in place. Your legs are firm against the taut muscle of his calves, your hands pinning his trembling wrists above his head, and his breath is shaky as you press your weight against his lower abdomen, your bottom resting firmly against his groin.

He feels he’s about to pass out as you let go of his left wrist to run your fingers gingerly across the stubble of his jaw, before cupping his chin to hold in in place. He squirms beneath you, beginning to mewl as you lean down to kiss him. You’re quickly thrown to the side before lips can meet, though, as Steven manages to get you turned and shelters you from the massive wave that comes breaking onto the shore. When he looks down at you, sea water dripping down his wet hair and onto your nose with the most disappointed face in the world, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in laughter.

This man is the BIGGEST softie in the world oml. You come wandering out of the bathroom that night, not expecting to see Steven biting his bottom lip and jutting his chin out. He’s muttering nervously to himself, a quiet ‘oh dear, oh dearie me’ busting out of him as he squats down and runs back and forth across the floorboards like a terrified little crab. He’s grabbing at rose petals he tried to shower across the floor, not realising the cool night breeze would burst in through the French doors and steal them away. When he notices you from the corner of his eye, he quickly straightens up, hiding the woven basket behind his back. He pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on as you walk over to him, but when you drop your towel and grab the back of his head to bring him down for a fervent kiss, the basket is quickly dropped to the floor and the jig is up.

Bro.. bro... oh my god, the body worship this man is hellbent on showing you is beyond crazy on your honeymoon. Like, dear lord, turn it up by a hundred and you might get a little closer to understanding how this emotionally vulnerable, touch starved, drowning in love man might be. I mean, Steven’s always been a giver if you know what I mean, but this is just next level. He’s so nervous though the sweetie pie, that you decide to help him out by loosening his tie. He’s nearly drooling on the floor by the time you throw it off of him, standing there like putty in your hand and just watching with lovesick eyes as you undress him. When his mind finally registers the almost inaudible pop of his shirt buttons though, he’s full on racked by whole body shivers as your palms glide the material apart from his chest. His firm pecs tighten against the feel of your bare skin against his, and behind the breathless inhale he swears he could die quite happily right now as long as you just don’t stop.

When he finally can’t take it anymore, it’s your turn to groan as he grabs onto the back of your thighs and shoves you backwards, pulling your bottom until it’s resting at the edge of the mattress. He slots his frame between your legs, knees coming down onto the floor as he buries himself between your soft flesh in ineffable bliss. Your thighs tighten around his head, and he breathes against your inner thighs as he kisses a path up them, gripping tenderly onto the back of your leg. When a little bit of extra oomph seems to overcome him, and his teeth nips across your panty line as they try to pull the seam of your underwear down, he immediately starts cooing and pressing a delicate brush of his nose against the mark, as if in apology.

Although he’s far better around you, some nights Steven still doesn’t sleep very well. You do your best to wake him up gently on these days, unlatching him from where his legs have tumbled onto yours during the night to start the kettle going. The smell of peppermint tea always perks him straight out of his dreams, and so he curls the duvet around his head like a hedgehog diving into the soft mound of a giant marshmallow as he goes looking for you. His feet slog around the room until he reaches the kitchenette, and he feels his heart begin to fizzle and pound as if a thousand scarabs were flitting around trying to escape the mortal walls when he spots you bopping around to the static hum of the radio. He immediately scares the pants off you by wrapping his arms around your waist, joining in your dance by swaying your hips side to side in time with his own. He’s impossibly close, his warm breath tingling against your neck as he kisses you. Suddenly, you’re enveloped by darkness, realising Steven’s taking the opportunity to assimilate you into the duvet fortress as well, so he can lean down and kiss every inch of exposed skin on your face and neck as he can, with a billion rushed pecks. You finally manage to push him off by pressing your hand against his mouth, and he relents to go get some tea.

The two of you sit knee to knee, criss crossed on top of the unmade bed. ‘We’re married’, he suddenly says, sitting bolt upright as if he’d been shocked between sips from his cup. ‘Yes, Steven’, you reply as he turns to look at you with a smile of pure wonderment, ‘I remember. I was there too.’

‘But it wasn’t a dream. That actually happened. You married me. This isn’t a joke, is it?’

‘It’s not a joke, Steven. I love you’, you state plainly, grabbing onto the back of his hand.

You can see the tears begin to gather behind his bloodshot eyes, his bottom lip blubbering out as his fingers turn to grip, almost painfully, the ends of your own. ‘I love you more than everything in the universe, Y/n.’

I mean, it’s Steven Grant so you 100% go sightseeing around the place! He so delicately holds your hand on the bus, nearly vibrating out of his seat he’s so excited. He even manages to ignore the side-eyes of fellow passengers as you pass by a really exciting historic site, Steven’s shoulder butting against your own as he points out to everything through the window. He hunches over your side until he’s nearly fully leaning onto you as he begins to rush out a boatload of facts he’s learnt from his books back at home. By the end of the night he’s so exhausted he’s fully lying across both the seats, legs planted in the aisle and his head blissfully cradled in your lap. His content smile is literally beauty incarnate, and you can’t help but disturb him from his sleep by kissing the tip of his nose. He replies by latching onto your top lip when you go to pull away, pressing his tongue tiredly against your own before flopping back against your knee as if he’d just won the lottery.

Steven definitely makes you take silly photographs in front of everything you go to see: the picture he took of you jumping in front of the pyramids past Cairo end up pinned on the wall next to his fish tank. After he kisses you goodbye in the mornings before work, it’s become part of his routine to also press a kiss against your cheek in the picture <3

Although he did manage to come round one of the market stalls holding a stray cat in his arms. With pleading eyes, he sounded like he was about to burst out crying as he looked at you, sniffling.

‘Can we keep him?’

‘Steven, how are we supposed to smuggle a cat back in our suitcase??’

‘He can have my plane seat instead, I don’t mind :(’

He tugs you down back alleys during your last few days in Egypt, running down cobblestoned streets hand in hand, flying across the dusty ground like loose kites free in the breeze. He’s on the hunt for a second hand bookstore: one he gets lost in almost immediately. You finally manage to find him hunched over by a knobbly looking bookshelf in a dusty side crevice near the back of the small shop. You have to literally hitch yourself over a pile of pretty worn, ancient looking encyclopaedias, shimmy past a dusty looking globe, and brush through a gap between two lined oaken bookshelves before you spot him. He doesn’t realise you’re behind him until your arms are squeezing around his soft belly, and you’re kissing the bunched material between his shoulder blades. His hand comes up to squeeze your fingers as he gives you a loving, slightly embarrasssed ‘oh! Hello love! Fancy seeing you here!’

He becomes even more shocked when, after you’ve finished resting your nose against his back and just breathing him in for a moment, you spin him round to face you. His eyes widen as he drops the book he was looking at onto his feet, but the confusion is quickly replaced by his features melting into one of intoxication as you press a lingering kiss against the side of his mouth. His eyes are blinking slowly, trying to shut as he crumples against your chest, his elbow knocking backwards and nearly knocking over a few piles of books domino style.

He literally tells you he loves you at least ten times a day. It just blurts out of him, as if he’s going to burst if he doesn’t get to say it. Baby. Baby boy. He deserves this forever love, and has wished for nothing more since the two of you first met.

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant headcanons #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight headcanons #marvel #marvel imagine #oscar isaac #x reader

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jaylleoo14 · 6 months

Text

An Indirect confession

Unbeknownst to his knowledge of those simple words

>GN!ReaderxJade

A/N: For those who don't know, in Poetry there’s this thing where if you ask someone if the moon is beautiful it basically is an indirect way of saying “i love you.” And if the other person agrees then they are basically reciprocating and its mutual, so I guess you can get the gist of where this is going >:) muehehe (also sorry if the writing is kinda dry 😭My brain juices were not juicing 😔) This is also pretty lengthy so I apologize for the long read ^^;

[wc] 12.2k words

[disclaimer] Jade

[characters] Jade, Ortho, Deuce, Jack, Grim, Floyd, Azul

Normally students tend to avoid going to Octavinelle, the dorm that seems notorious for its shady under swept deals and the students residing there seeming to be all hushed and tight lipped about certain information. Some things they shouldn't know, yet they do and it makes you wonder how exactly they get such information. Yet one thing is undeniable, and it's the fact that they have a great cafe which tends to be overpriced, but usually of befitting prices for what they serve and provide.

Mostro Lounge, a chic sea themed cafe which is managed by Azul Ashengrotto and runned with students from all other dorms who seek to make extra cash. Its meals and tableware, everything from the music to the decor and the overall vibe was perfect for one to leisurely dine in and perhaps hang out and study. The calming hues of blue and purple, a shimmering accent of silver which compliments the place helps create a nice pleasant place and provides a great aesthetic. It surely did look pretty and elegant, the food there being just as delicious and the drinks delightful as the jazzy music sets in the vibes.

Nov - 12, XXXX

It was during the colder season where the sun usually starts to set earlier and the days would be shorter, the nights getting longer to be able to view the starry sky. Although not too late, the moon had already risen and was in full view. You sat near the glass wall where a full display of the waters were open and of view to you, nothing letting it shy away from watching eyes. Nothing roamed in the waters as you can make out, the only thing lighting up the dark void passed the glass being the lights illuminating the room you currently were dining in. Different colored corals and sea plants can be seen wavering around on the floor-the currents making it wave around slightly, its movements kind of enchanting you as you zone out for a bit watching the steady pacing.

“If you aren’t going to eat your food then I call dibs!” Grim exclaims right at the same time he snatches up your plate of food, to which you ordered some simple and light vermicelli noodles. The bowled plate is taken away and you didn’t even seem to mind honestly. The soothing jazz music, the calm night in the lounge, and the background noises of side conversations from other students which can be heard as the workers walk by to drop off their orders or bust their tables. It was almost lulling you into a state of drowsiness, the temperature just right for you to even take a nap right here and now.

“Tonight is very nice, don't you think Grim?” You say almost absent mindedly as you continue to stare at the empty waters. Your form is still like a doll as you keep your eyes on the glass pane window.

“Because you’re treating me out for food? Heck ya! Nyahaha!” His response only prompts you to roll your eyes and a smirk spreads across your face as you sarcastically shake your head.

“Yea well maybe I won't next time. After all, what are the chances of you getting all full marks on Crewel's potionology test?” Grim can only respond with a confident and upbeat response, ensuring that he is bound to continue to excel and this was just the beginning. You can only scoff but in all honesty, you can't deny that you were indeed proud of him for being able to reach a perfect score.

And if it weren’t for Jade’s help Grim wouldn’t have done so well.

“Are you enjoying your night here in our humble dorm, Prefect?”

Speak of the devil. Jade comes up with a hand placed over his chest, giving you his signature smile as you turn to look at him, your head no longer facing the pane glass wall. Grim is engrossing himself in the food, perhaps the reason why he isn't feeling too timid with his presence at the moment.

“Surprisingly.” Your answer was short and blunt, but it was enough for Jade to chuckle a little as he finds amusement in your rather tired honesty.

“Well I’m pleased to know that you are enjoying yourself in our lovely sanctuary (y/n),” his usual politeness being one of his main outward characteristically point. A yawn escapes from your mouth, placing a hand over to try and show courtesy and politeness as you nod your head to his response, not being so responsive.

“You seem to be quite exhausted, Prefect, perhaps you should start heading back. Or if you want, we can lend you a room. For a certain price of course.” You don't even need to look at him to know that he has this sly little smile plastered on his face until Grim interjects before you can respond.

“Nyah, we actually prefer to go back to Ramshackle now that we are done eating, right my henchman?”

“Once I’m done with my drink, then we’ll head back,” and just as you said, you reached over to cup the blue wine glass that was filled halfway with a fruity and sweet concoction of juices that danced on your tongue when you took a sip. Wanting to occupy yourself with something, you play around with the metal tube as you proceed to enclose your lips around the straw to take a generous sip of the beverage. Its taste was able to freshen you somewhat as you closed your eyes and relaxed a little on the leather seat, the smell granting you a satisfied hum. Grim next to you could only whine for you to hurry up - not wanting to stay any longer in the presence of one of the eel twin, but just to play around spitefully you purposely started to drink a lot slower and Jade can only watch as he’s always done and squint his eyes a little as his smile widens.

Jade’s attention is brought onto the glass wall that he noticed you were staring at before, looking up only to be met with the glimmering silver that soaks into the waters swaying waves. The full moon looks back down at him as he continues to stand in front of your booth, continuing to sip your drink as Grim starts to lay next to you to take a nap.

“The moon is quite beautiful tonight, don't you think Prefect?” He says it ever so calmly, saying those words as if to spark another conversation with you. Though it only prompts you to start coughing and hacking as you accidentally slurped in your drink a bit too fast and it ended up going to the wrong pipe. You’re practically hurled over, hitting your chest as you wipe your mouth and Jade can only watch with wide eyes.

“Nyahh!? What happened?!” Grim springs up from the sudden jerking motion of your coughing figure and you clench the ledge of the table sitting at the end of the cushion.

“My, did I say something out of the ordinary (y/n)?” Once you look up to find his full attention on you, you can only try to calm down and inhale a breath as his display of a friendly smile bore into you. Why are you making such a big deal? It’s not like those words had any meaning in this world, so there's no need to be making such a big deal (y/n)!

You’re quite embarrassed honestly, especially because you thought he just confessed right then and there. But of course, that can't be the case because those words don't mean anything in this world like it does in yours. Quickly reaffirming yourself in your head, you let out another cough to clear your throat and catch your breath.

“A-Ah, no uhm, I thought I misheard you is all haha. But ahem, I would say that tonight is rather lovely haha.” And you try to regain your composure as you divert your eyes and finish up with your drink. A small hum can be heard from Jades tall figure as he places his fist over his mouth. “Well, I see you are rather more awake now. Pray do tell what you misheard, I am curious to know what got you so worked up dear Prefect.”

Your cheeks are only decorated in more of a slightly deeper shade of red, and suddenly the straw is very interesting to look at as you twirl it around in between your gloveless fingers. “You won’t get it, it won't make sense anyways. Just some nonsense.” You can only wave your hand dismissively and he can't help but grow even more intrigued as your brows furrow and you continue to brush it off.

“How unfortunate you can’t seem to try and help me understand, even though I went through all the trouble to help you and Grim with your studies. I find that rather unfair especially since I see that you two have bore fruit in your success due to my aid.”

His words help you gain back your composure, resteeling yourself as you straighten your back and shoot him a placate smile. “Hmm? Whatever do you mean Jade? I’m paying you back by visiting you and dining at the place you work at so you can gain income. I think that’s plenty enough to repay you.” He only squints just slightly at you in response and you’re pretty sure you can feel as if you’ve triggered something in him be it good or bad - that's something you don't really wanna find out though.

“Oya? You came to see me specifically? I don't see it as a valid reason enough considering that's how one would usually repay others when they are indebted to them.”

You slightly pout at him, and as usual Jade always seems to counter your attempt of being sly and snarky with his own silver coated tongue. “Whaaat? Are you saying my visit isn’t enough for you? How could you, even though I came all this way just to see YOU specifically.” You lean into the cushion almost dramatically and animated to further emphasize your offended playful nature.

He seems to be fairly accustomed to your playfulness and responds accordingly. “Although you claim to come over to Octavinelle to come visit me specifically, I account this is the first we are talking since you made your appearance. I believe Floyd has interacted with you more than I have today.”

“Okay well point is, I still came over for you. And to express my thanks I was helping the profit of the Mostro Lounge. Not only will you benefit but Azul would greatly appreciate my patronage! Plus, Floyd is happy knowing I'm here. See? Everyone’s happy!”

Finding the littlest details possible, you make it as important as ever. But Jade is not fooled by your little over exaggeration and nitpicking. Of course, one would know another's tricks well when they themselves do it. And he seems to find great entertainment from the way you carry on with this drag. He truly does feel a sort of fondness for you with the way that you are. Not that he’s ever said however.

“Are you assuming that I am satisfied with what you’ve offered me?” When you look up at him you can see the way his eyes look more meticulous now, as if he’s observing your every move. Dissecting you piece by piece as he awaits for your response, patiently waiting for when he could strike and counter your words. You leave your mouth slightly agape for a moment thinking carefully for what your next words were to be, carefully trying to see what you could say in response - however the pressure of having to hurry and say something quick overrides you because if you don't, then it would be like you couldn’t match up to him. Not like you could ever, but it wasn’t a nice feeling when you let others know they have a winning upperhand. And he seemed to relish knowing that you were feeling this pressure from the way he was looking at you.

“I am assuming you aren’t dissatisfied with it.” Putting up an undeterred front, you do your best to try and keep a steel-like straight face as you stare at his mismatched eyes.

With the way his eyes go back to their non-disturbing look you can only assume you satisfied him with your play of trying to be undisturbed. The tension is then suddenly broken when Grim lets out a complaint, saying how he’s tired already and that he just wants to go home now. Sprawled over your thighs as his back lays against them as if he was putty, an unprompted sigh escapes your mouth and you pick up grim in your arms, standing up as you begin to excuse yourself.

“Goodnight then Jade, I’ll excuse myself now.”

“And as is the same to you, pleasant dreams to you Prefect.”And with that, Jade goes ahead and picks up the empty porcelain dishes and the glass cup, remnants of eaten food and a little puddle of liquid to show it had been put to its intended use.

‘I came all this way to see YOU specifically.’ Your words replay in his head as he walks back to the kitchen, a slight sulky pout on his face to which no one is able to witness.

“I wish you could say that more often my dear (y/n).” Setting them down into the sink, the water runs as he turns on the faucet. The pressurized water splashes as the dishes make contact and he can only stare down at it as he begins to think of you. A little susurrus naturally slipped out under his breath as the sound of running water deafened his words of one sided longing. “Hmm, it seems that they were trying to avoid agreeing about the moon… ”

On the walk back to your dormitory, Grim looks up at you from where you hold him in your arms. “Hey Henchman, did Jade say something funny back there?”

Looking down at him, the pale ashen color of the moon's rays blanketing you both as it illuminates your path, you can only give him a slightly wide eyed response. “It’s nothing. Just something from my world is all. What he said about the moon, it means something in my world…” Your voice can only trail off as you think back to the incident, the familiar expression of embarrassment starting to bubble up again as your face heats up to which you can't help but bury your face in Grims fur as you recall what a stupid reaction you must’ve given. Grim is grumbling and complaining as you indulge in his fuzziness, seeming a bit shocked and confused from your sudden outburst. “Yer squeezin’ me ahhh!”

Loosening your grip on him, he lets out a dying wheeze as if he finally escaped from a crushed boulder on top of him. The sound of your shoes walking softly on the ground fills the air aside from the huff you let out as you try and sort yourself out.

You’re overreacting here (y/n), Jade doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even know what those words mean! And even if he did it’s not like you love him either. Though that simple phrase was enough to have you thinking about him the entire walk back, perhaps going to give you some sweet dreams just as how he wished you back when you left.

He definitely knew what he was doing-as the leech he is-was able to slither his way into your thoughts as planned and stick there. Something similar to a parasyte as one can compare. The way he just sticks in your head as you now roll in bed, constantly replaying his words. Why do you keep replaying these words? Why does your heart race when you replay the scene in your head over and over again and you remember how his voice sounded? Why were you starting to make random scenarios in your head, visualizing him and you wa- SNAP OUT OF IT (Y/N)!

Sure no ones ever said those words to you before but you have to remember that it means nothing! So what if the moon is beautiful? That's all there is! You must be crazy if you think you may be coming down with something regarding that little slimy eel. He doesn’t know what those words mean anyways, why would he say that to you?

Point is, he doesn't know. End of discussion!

. . .

He knows.

Oh he soooo knows, though you don’t know he knows. At least, not yet.

Moving the pawn over to create space for the castle to move, Jade makes his move while hovering over the wooden chess pieces. Closely calculating every piece carefully despite there being no other attentive player on the other side. Not wanting to catch your attention like a snake hunting for its prey, he goes ahead and advances forward quietly.

Nov - 6, XXXX

“Deuce! Jack! W-wait up for me, please!” You tiredly try to jog towards Deuce and Jack, though you would say it's less of jogging and more so walking at a jagged pace. Sweat drips down your form, drenching you and stains of sweat are pitted on your underarms and chest. You slow down, bending over as you place your hands on your knees to catch your breath. The sun's rays washing over the lands as you three stand beneath it, its heat adding onto more of excretion of sweat.

“N-Never again. You two are trying to kill me!” Huffing and gasping desperately, Deuce comes over to pat your shoulder in hopes of comforting you. His hand placed softly atop of your draping shoulder as he slightly bent down to your crouched figure. “Sorry (y/n), I didn’t consider how today's club session would be like for people who aren’t accustomed to running so much at a consistent rate.” You can tell by the tone of voice that he genuinely felt guilty having you get put up with all that running, and Vargas being Vargas was not so lenient.

“My feet are in so much pain. It feels comparable to wearing heels the entire day, I hate this so much.” A feigned sob is ushered out and as the reliable person he is, Jack comes over to try and comfort you as well. “I can lend you an arm if it helps. Really, you should have expected that much running at least when you offered to come participate in the track and field club.” To be fair, you only came because Deuce wanted you to check out the club in hopes that you’d be interested in joining. So you gave it a shot.

Never again. Jack shakes his head as if scolding a little child and the sound of him clicking his tongue can be heard, his brazen feathered white locks of hair swishing from side to side as he jerks his head.

“I can lend you my arm as well! Please don't hesitate to ask for my help if you need it (y/n)! I’ll gladly let you rely on me.” Deuce’s sweet fluffy voice reminding you of a newborn hatched chick makes you soften up a bit, and despite being so sweaty you went ahead and latched onto Deuce as his offer seemed much more friendly and welcoming. He seemed to not mind it though, and Jack seems to not care whether or not you planned on relying on him. Though you acknowledge his outwardness to help. With a settled huff, you three began to walk down the dirt path that maps out the campus.

“Maybe my feet hurt because I don't have the proper footwear.”

“Your preparation skills are even worse than I thought (y/n).”

“Look, what's done is already done okay? No need to keep saying stuff that would get me into a dour mood Jack.”

“You’re right, I didn’t mean to restate the obvious then if you’ve already acknowledged it.”

His words just make you hit him slightly on the arm, not in a hurtful way but a hit that was as light as when the waves would crash onto your feet in the sand. He didn’t mean to sound ill willed, but he has his ways of showing concern for those he cares about. He grimaces for a bit but simply overlooks it knowing that was just your usual play, noticing the way his ears would twitch from your usual playfulness - you guys had a comfortable dynamic and it showed.

“If you don't have any proper footwear, we can go stop by Sam’s shop and buy you some.”

Deuce suggestion diverts your attention back onto him, your arms still linked together as you lean on him for support while you stagger off, giving him a reaffirming nod. He seemed pleased to be of help to you, as if fulfilling the role of a good friend.

“Yea, let's go. I need to buy me some new socks anyways.”

“Socks? Not shoes?”

“I don't think the problem is with my shoes. Although it may not be all the best to comfort me in running, it still gets the job done.”

Jack can only look down to observe your shoes as if to analyze what you said is true, trying to identify whether or not your words support your claim. His yellow sunset gaze which could be compared to how the sun's rays shined is heating you all right now as it bores down on you.

“Jack, before you say anything. Don't.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Don't look at my shoes, I’m poor okay. I feel like you’re secretly judging me.”

“Not exactly judging per say.”

“See! That doesn't make it any better.” A light chuckle originates from Jack as he playfully looks over to you, a small smile soon cracking on his caramel skinned face as his voice dies down.

“How are you feeling Prefect?” A firm hand is now gripped on the other side of your shoulder, the feeling of your sweaty and sticky body meshing with your clothes as your scent muddles in with the fibers making up the cloth hugging your figure. Deuce has been walking alongside you now for the entirety of your guys walk as you head towards Sam's Shop, still quite a distance away. Feeling the need to check in on you, he continues to firmly lay his hand on your shoulder to better comfort you.

“Deuce, you’re so considerate. I feel like I might just let out a heartfelt sob for how sweet you’re being right now.” You let out a feigned exasperated sigh - in response though Deuce’s reaction is one of surprise which you could feel without even looking at the way his body stiffens a little.

“E-Eh? This really is nothing though (y/n), you’re in pain after all. It would only be natural to help someone in need.”

“True, but you know this really helps a lot. I’m in so much pain, I practically don't wanna walk anymore.”

“You’re over exaggerating a bit,” A little quip response from Jack makes you pout and shake your head to show you denied it.

“Not true! Gosh if I had a significant other or something I'm sure they wouldn’t mind carrying me! Ah the convenience of having someone like that.”

“Do you really think they’d do something like that for you?”

“Would you do that for your significant other?”

And without a second thought, he immediately answers. Only then does he seem to find how meaningless his question was upon answering yours.

“I think having a significant other would be nice, but I don't think that's something I am trying to actively pursue right now.” Deuce chimes in his own thoughts and you let out a little laugh which also chimes just as beautifully.

“I think you’d need to be better at talking to girls first before you even consider trying to pursue one.” Light hearted laughter airs around you as you lean into his arm, your shoulders bumping up rhythmically.

“W-wha-!”

“The last time you talked to a girl, or tried to court one - if you can even call it that - was the ghost that kidnapped Idia.”

Deuce sputters out, feeling a sense of embarrassment as you tease him about his interactions with the ghost bride, his face burning a bright red like the cards in which glossed a new coat of red paint on white roses. Besides you both, Jack takes into consideration your walking speed. He truly was showing consideration in his own way and it was something you didn't mind at all, in fact it made you feel appreciative for what he was doing. He would be leaving the two of you in the dust if he wanted to, only showing that he does indeed care about you. Deuce does the same of course, considering you are latching onto him for support as you stagger about.

“I would understand why Deuce would just freeze up like that. When it comes to expressing those types of feelings it’s always better to actually be sincere about it.” Jack has always been more on the serious side, always viewing the perception of love as something that should last forever between you and your partner. A sense of loyalty and something not to take lightly of.

Love has many different meanings to it. A vast broad way to make a connotation of sorts which could be related in any way whatsoever. Something that you blatantly already knew of course. “Ok mister love counselor, I get that part alright? Besides, it’s not like you have to actually say you love them, I think it’d be harder to believe if you did say ‘i love you’ though.”

With his ears flattening with your sarcastic remark he should’ve known better than to say something that has at least more than once been thought about.

“She didn’t require you to say ‘I love you.’ As long as you were a good enough candidate to fit her unrealistic, old fashion, and cliche ideal standards then you’d be good to go.”

“Okay but I meant it in a general sense. Not just for the incident with Eliza.”

“What do you mean?” His question beckons to be answered as his tail waves from slight confusion, Deuce also sharing a similar if not more confused look.

“Well if someone told you they loved you in a romantical sense, would you believe them?”

“Am I supposed to doubt them? That’d just be rude and disrespectful to their feelings.”

“Me personally, you could say it would also depend on who's confessing to me.”

“That's true too Deuce. I could say the same. But I don't know. How could you believe someone who would confess such strong words towards you? I find it a bit surreal.”

“Has anyone ever confessed to you (y/n)?”

“Shut up Jack.”

A low snorkeling chuckle comes out unprompted as he muses himself in your dejected response and Deuce can only shake his head a little from the way the two of you have been slightly bantering with each other. Usually it would be Jack to be the one shaking his head, but you tend to bring out the mischievous and playful side of him.

“I’m going to take this personally and hope that you also take me not taking your arm personally too.”

Jack is visibly taken aback with your proclamation as his ears perk up. “How childish!”

“No it's not! You basically just told me that I'm not attractive!”

“Don't put words into my mouth!”

“Or! Perhaps you do have secret admirers and they are too scared to confess (y/n)”

Silence fills the air as you both have failed to think of such a possibility during the small moment of your little bantering, both your heads turning to look at Deuce who gives you guys a more serious face.

Relaxing a bit as Jack and you jaunted down, you go back to your usual casualness as the three of you continue your way to Sams. Your destination is not too far off as you three have been filling the time with conversation, making the walk feel shorter than usual. “Oh that might be true for most people. People may just be scared to confess to others.”

“I mean you can always indirectly confess you know. A lot of people do that instead of outwardly confessing.”

Deuce's eyes widen a bit with a type of child's curiosity and it only prompts you to further expand on what you meant. “Do you mean like a love letter?” Jack inquires and gives off from your earlier proposition.

“Yeah, basically. Or you can say something to convey your feelings to them.”

“Such as?” Deuce with his ample experience seems to show quite the interest despite stating some time ago that pursuing someone was not something he was actively trying to do. Though he still valued it as something to consider for future references in the case that a situation were to spring up and prompt him to initiate.

An endearing smile scrawls on your face as you peer over to Deuce, Jack also listening intently as well. All this talking seems to have distracted you from the pain in your feet, but despite your hold on Deuce’s arm loosening you continue to keep your arms linked together anyways as the cool breeze comes to freshen you three up.“Well, there is this saying in poetry back in my world some people were fond of using some time ago. You basically ask someone if the moon is beautiful, and that's basically saying that you love them. If they agree with you then that's them reciprocating your feelings.”

“Ah, really? That’s some interesting and creative way of doing it. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to tell at all and only see it as a regular question though.” Deuce still nonetheless finds it rather intriguing. “Really? I’m sure there must be a saying similar to that here.” As you make it up to the shop, finally arriving after what felt like a short time despite the lengthy conversation, you find a familiar face.

“Oh, is that? Ortho!” Waving over to Ortho, he reciprocates the friendly gesture and waves back. Seemingly, it appeared that Ortho just came back from some shopping from Sam's shop, quickly walking over in a spring-like gait.

“Ah! It’s (Y/n)(L/n), Deuce Spade, and Jack Howl! What a pleasant surprise to see you guys. Are you guys planning on getting something from Sam's shop?” His friendly personality was warming as usual and he was one of the people here whom you got along fairly well.

Finally latching off of Deuces arm you decide to give it a try to stand as you also intend to approach Ortho with a welcoming and friendly smile. No longer leaning your weight on Deuce to help support yourself, you wince a little but endure the pain as you apply your usual weight onto your feet. Ortho seems to automatically notice and with the way his brows furrowed to show concern, Deuce and Jack come from behind standing close in the case that something happens.

“Ah prefect, you seem to be in pain! Your pain receptors and heart rate along with your tissue sensors seem to indicate you have a sense of soreness on your feet! Have you been over exerting yourself perhaps?” And as usual, due to Ortho’s inbuilt sensor indicator he seems to be all the more observant about your throb.

“Aha you could say that. I joined Deuce and Jack in their club today so that's why. So here we are to buy some comfortable socks for me in the near future if this does happen again.”

Your lighthearted laugh doesn't seem to shake off Ortho’s concerned looking face however, so he offers to try and heal you up with some ointment packed on him. You’re grateful really, but you don't really feel all that comfortable taking your shoes and socks off right now in front of your friends after a hearty run.

“Oh no thank you Ortho. I really appreciate it but I’m sure I’d be better with some rest after. On another note, how about you search something up for me?” Your sudden change in topics catches Deuce’s and Jack’s attention as they both stare at your back as if knowing what you plan on asking.

“Oh sure! If you insist so then I’ll leave you be then Prefect. What is it you wanted me to search up? I can get it in a blast!” His enthusiasm felt infectious and it quirks a small smile on your face despite the enduring pain. His body language conveying as such similar to how a human normally would if not for his obvious robotic decals and constructure.

“Could you see if this saying means anything? ‘The moon is beautiful, isn't it?’” In a docile manner he quickly gets to it and with a few audible beeping computerized clicks he announces some articles and other works of literature where such a line would be found; similarly fitting the words or having the words exactly but not in a way to express someone's affection for another.

“Ah, I see. So your world really doesn't have that saying around.” You didn’t sound disappointed per-say, but you didn’t really expect much either. Upon noticing your lack of reaction, Ortho tilts his head curiously.

“What were you hoping to find Prefect? I’m sure whatever it was we can find it together!”

Shaking your head lightly you only cross your arms and let out a slight sigh. “You see, back in (y/n)’s world, that saying is an indirect way to say ‘I love you,’ something you say to confess your feelings apparently.” Jack comes from behind and now to the side of you as he makes his presence more prominent. With an intrigued shine in Ortho’s eyes, he grips on his grocery bag slightly and brings a delighted fist up over to where his mouth would be.

“Ah! On the way here were you guys perhaps talking about ways to confess to someone?”

“Er, not exactly. The topic kinda just happened as we were talking about how to indirectly confess to someone in general.” Deuce also comes in to step up from behind and by your side now as he too makes his presence more prominent.

“Oh I see, the topic of love and confessions! How wondrous, should I search for some other ways to indirectly court or express your feelings towards someone?”

Bringing a hand up to stop Ortho, you give him a little small smile to assure him that it wasn’t needed. “Thanks for the offer Ortho, but that was all I wanted at least. Everythings rather copacetic right now anyways haha.”

“Anyways, we should better get going since I have some plans later.” Jack begins to announce as he proceeds to walk up and you soon follow after in a wobbly state, though still managing, as Deuce follows behind intentionally there to look out for you in case you’d need assistance.

“Aww well alright then, it was nice talking to you guys. See you some time!” And with a fleeting goodbye wave, the three of you go ahead and approach Sam’s shop. Ortho now off with a tune playing as he goes down the dirt path road back to Ighynide.

“Oh? How fascinating. To think such simple words convey tremendous feelings, fufu. Perhaps I should try saying it to them sometime when I have the courage.” Near the building of Sam’s shop, a ludicrous tall shadow looms behind a fairly covered tree.

Sneaking behind one of his towers, Jade picks up one of his pawns and sets it forward, diagonal to yours. Now swallowing and taking out one of your pawns he’s able to decrease your chess pieces. Moving your king further back out of sheer blindness and fear, all to which you know you should protect, Jade proceeds to think of his next move; now eyeing the knights in the back row which was still perfectly not in use aligned with his king and queen.

Nov - 6, XXXX

“Sometime ago from the mirror chamber over to the botanical garden I saw Jack, Deuce, and my darling pearl (y/n) coming from the field as I made my way. I must admit, I indeed felt irked that they were clinging onto Deuce like that. However I kept my composure and decided to stay hidden and observe, something that I have always reaped benefits from.”

“To continue along, as I was listening to what they were talking about it appears that they were on the subject of how to court someone indirectly. Oh what a valuable insight to what my dearest has to say!”

In the botanical garden there sat the infamous student, Jade Leech. With no one around in the greenery place, there he sat talking to his mushrooms to which he cared for tenderly. In the placement of actual companions who could listen to his lovesick woes and scheming little ploys, it seems that he much prefers talking to his own plants which grow healthily from his careful attentiveness and candid affection.

“Would my little shrooms care to know what it is my dearest had said?” To no response from the fungi planted in its bed of components, he only lets out a more passionate look to compel more.

“The only thing they talked about was this saying back in their world. The person who asks if the moon is beautiful is quite frankly another way to profess your love in poetry. If the person who you asked it to agrees then they basically are reciprocating your mutual feelings. Isn’t that lovely?”

No response. If someone were to witness this surely they’d think that Jade would be a little crazy. Not like he’ll let anyone see him in this state though. Lest if they do then pray to the sevens that they would be able to see the next day come.

Adjusting the lighting to perfectly fit the conditions to aid its growth, Jade lets out a beaming smile as he thinks about the two things he tends to show more prominent love aside from his familial relations. You and his mushrooms.

“If I continue to engage in social interaction with (y/n) then I am positive the likelihood of them returning my feelings would be higher. I’ve been doing so for the past few months now, perhaps I should start planning my confession.”

Sitting on a bench, he slumps in his folded arms ensuring that his head or arms were away from the bedded fungi; the edge of the earthy wooden table. Flashes of your face and scenarios playing in his head arise like a continuous movie film on repeat, the sound of your laughter and the feeling of his heart racing in his chest felt like he was immersed in the movie he was watching. Oh how he could replay them over and over again, a goofy love-stuck smile curling on his face as he buried it deeper into his arms.

“Jade! There ya are!” A sudden voice calls out to him and he springs up from surprise. He didn't hear anyone come in, just how long has he been in his own little world?

“Ah Floyd, what are you doing here?” Standing up from where he sat, he began to approach Floyd as he was coming over towards his way as well. A prime smile on his face yet he looked brighter than ever.

“Azul needs ya. You’ve been gone for awhile, thought ya went out to the mountains again,” swinging down with a huff as he sits himself on the bench, he leans his head back to give him a rather laid back smile. “Good thing you were in here though, wasn’t plannin’ on tryna get you back all the way from the mountains.”

“Oh my, did I perhaps lose track of time? Thank you for letting me know Floyd, I'll be sure to hurry along then.” The materialistic multitudes of sound coming together as Jade brushes and pats himself come together to accompany the brightful air around him. “Ah? Yer bein’ all smiley Jade, is it cus of these damn mushrooms or somethin?”

“You could say it’s part of the reason, Floyd.”

With a click of the tongue and his brows slightly twitching, Floyd bounces up with a swift swing of his legs and starts walking alongside Jade. “Ugh, is it shrimpy again?”

“Gasp! How did you know?” As Jade makes a feigned gasp and his hand placed over his mouth, Floyd can only roll his eyes and shake his head from his fake and obvious display of faux surprise. “Urgh, keep yer lovey-dovey thoughts to yerself. I aint tryna hear all that sappy and weird stuff again.”

“Oh dear, and here I thought you actually secretly liked to hear my woes Floyd.” With the both of them now walking off, Floyd and Jade start to talk about other affairs as they head back to Mostro Lounge.

Without realizing it, you move your castle over and take out his pawn resting on the black squares making up the chessboard. Too infatuated with his own plans, he fails to see you make a move with your knight and you proceed to place it on a white square. Ready to defend what you have left or ready to steal his pieces.

Nov - 8, XXXX

The indifferent sounds of inharmonious male voices fill up the school halls as they go by their constructed schedule of schooling. Classes are left empty momentarily as students leave to head on and transition over to their next subject whether it be magic history or astrology, or perhaps they may skip and find the chance to slack off.

A diversity of students are scrambling around and covering the school grounds, if seen above it might be like seeing a field of colorful jelly beans laid out on a structured maze platform. Stepping out of the classroom which is labeled at the top “1-A,” you and Grim along with many others go by the schedule as well; stepping out of the classrooms to head on over to their next classes.

“Raaah~! I almost fell asleep there. Can you believe we’re gonna have an upcoming test in Crewel's class?!”

A yawn can be heard and ushered out from your little fur ball of a companion, Grim. Resting on your shoulders you can only respectively share the same tired stare on your face as you step out into the school corridors. “We have a day or two maybe to study for it, it should be enough time to cover what we need to go over.”

The wintery dim skies makes the air around you a bit more chilly than normal, making you feel a little drowsy even. “Mrmgh, why’d we have to get out of bed ~? It was the perfect temperature to sleep in!” As he then closes his eyes while resting on your shoulder, you can only give a sigh and roll your eyes as you make your way over to your shared class. With heavy eyelids and heavy limbs dragging your feet, you lazily make your way past the cluster of students.

“Yea no kidding, I wanted to sleep in too. Any second longer and I would’ve succumbed to the comfort of our bed.” Bringing your hand to your face you start rubbing your drowsy eyes. “God the weather is so perfect to sleep in. A cold morning is so nice.”

“I agree, I feel rather closer to home the more the temperature drops.”

“WHAT THE FUC-/ NYAHHHHH!”

As you and Grim jump up into the air - his fur all frayed and animated looking like those Halloween black cats up on display windows during the spooky-season sales - Jade stands behind the two of you with a casual smile on his face.

“Fufu, well I see you are rather more awake now.” Alongside him stood Floyd and Azul, the most recognizable sea trio ever. Floyd seemed to also be in a sleepy state as his slanted eyes were closed and his stance being all lazy and slump-like. Azul, ever the dashing man he is, looks back at you with a formal smile.

“I must agree with you there Jade. Although the weather cannot nearly compare to the temperature at home, I find the cold to be rather comforting.”

“W-What the hell Jade? Don’t pop up out of nowhere like that.” As you place your hand over your chest, the feeling of your heart beating rapidly due to the fright can be felt and heard in your eardrums. “Apologies, my intention wasn’t to scare you, Prefect.” Although you can't be too sure if he really was genuine with that apology, the look on his face said otherwise. And with a slightly scoffing click of the tongue you fix your posture and stand up with a straight posture to address him.

“What do you guys want?” After you’ve calmed down, you press your palms on your hips, giving him a more stern expression. Grim is practically still recovering from the sudden scare as he clings onto your leg. “Oya? Asking us what we want? Why aren’t you a generous one (y/n).

“Indeed, if that's the case then I would like-”

“You know damn well that's not what I meant!”

“Oi, shut it will you? Yer loud voice is botherin me.” Floyd speaking up in irritance causes you to divert your attention onto him and you flinch back a bit, making note of controlling your volume. Coming up to stand in front of Jade now, your attention is now placed onto Azul, his pristine air around him calling for professionalism. “To be quite frank, we heard your little call of distress just now and would like to offer assistance.” Smiling ever so politely as he places his hand on his slightly puffed up chest, you can only feel a sense of dread for what's to come.

“You want to help us study for our upcoming potionology test? Why? What’s in it for you?”

Feigning a shocked and offended look, Azul shakes his head slightly and you continue on just stare at him with disinterest. “Why, out of the goodness of my heart of course! I’m just trying to help my dear friend, yes? I’m just trying to show my comradery because friends are supposed to support and help each other.” Hearing his words make you snicker, and Jade can’t help but be amused a little at the show displaying your interactions with Azul.

“Hmm? Shrimpy and little seal needs help with their studies? Oooh count me in~ hehe” Finally feeling awake with a sense of amusement, Floyds demeanor shifts to a more sneaky and cunning air around him. “Wait, I didn't even agree to this!” Grim lets out a similar statement as well, picking him up into your arms as you hold him for a sense of comfort.

“Now now no need to be so rude. We merely just want to help.” You know damn well that he has other intentions other than to simply just “help,” and what other perfect way than to try and take advantage of the fact that you two had an upcoming test. “No way, I'd rather have someone else tutor us.”

“Oh how your words and hostility wound me (y/n),” bringing a finger to swipe at his fake tears Azul then moves to the side and switches back up once again. “Very well, if you refuse to take my assistance then why not choose between the Leeches to tutor you?”

Giving him the most “Are you serious” look ever towards Azul, you divert your eyes to look over at Jade and Floyd who stood beside each other. It was like you were in a bachelorette/bachelor show right now having to pick between which twin you wanted to date as Azul was the host. “W-Wait I never-”

“Time’s ticking Prefect, unfortunately we all have classes to attend so hurry won't you?”

WHY IS HE PUTTING ME ON THE SPOT?!

Grim being firm with his whine and response simply says he doesn't want either and jumps out of your arm, scrambling off to class without you, seeing that you really were left alone in this situation. Thanks so much “companion.” Darting your eyes back and forth to Jade's polite yet somehow eerie aired smile and Floyd’s amused and up-to-no-good lazy smirk, you frantically blurt out one of their names without much thought.

“J-Jade!” It wasn’t an easy pick, but in all honesty at least this eel can try and be tame for the most part. So scratch that, it was a rather easier and obvious pick. With a pleased smile on his face, Jade simply places a hand over his chest as if he was glad to have been chosen. “I will do my best to tutor you well then Prefect. Thank you for choosing me.” Ding Ding Ding! And it seems that (y/n) chose contestant number 2! Jade Leech!

“Ehhh? Why didn’t ya pick me shirmpyyyy? It would’ve been so much more fun. Oh well, I’m not really feeling like tutoring ya no more anyways.”

You guess calling Jade was a good call, but the slight glint in his eyes causes some uneasiness in you. Letting out a slight chuckle and a one-sided crooked smile, you look up to Jade who now as well stood in front of you. “Aha, yea.. I look forward to it as well.” As you make up your quick plans of when and where to meet, you four all go your own separate ways to head over to class. Thinking to yourself, you really had no choice or say in this with the way they gave you no options whatsoever.

“Look at you looking so chipper Jade.” Floyd slightly remarks as out of the three, Jade's smile is ever so radiant.

“Yes, I'm quite pleased that the plan went rather well.”

“‘Pleased’ is such an understatement. You seem more ecstatic to say the least, like how you are always with those batches of mushrooms.”

“Urgh, don't even mention 'em Azul. It's already enough having to hear him talk about his mushrooms and “Shrimpy this” or “Shrimpy that,” blergh.”

“I’m glad to know I am not a direct victim of his ramblings with you in my stead.”

“Oh how you both wound me so.” And as the three walk off in the opposite direction, the show of bachelorette/bachelor has ended with you and Jade going to meet up for your little date. With Grim being there of course, but under Jade's care he is a rather easy case to take care of and Jade will ensure that things will be under control now.

The first drops of snow in your heart flutter down as the first lingering thoughts of Jade come hither to rest in your mind. And as Jade proceeds to move his knights in places to ensure his next move winds up being a success, slowly breaking down your wall of pawns to get to the heart of what makes you stay in the game, to obtain your king and end the game. Slowly but surely, his methodical and strategic thinking would lead him to success and only then, would he be able to have your king. A game of chess to where you don't know you’re playing as he stares down at the chessboard.

I’ve been seeing him more often lately… A lingering thought nestles in as you make your way over to class.

Three pawns down, no moves made, and a clear break through heading towards your unprotected king. An open line is presented and clear for him to make a bold break for it. With slight hesitation as he's about to pick up his knight, he then draws back his hand and proceeds to bring his king up instead.

Present Day

Nov - 15, XXXX

“Hey Henchman, is it just me or have we been seeing Jade a lot more often recently?”

“Glad to know you’re finally noticing Grim, I've seen him around much more frequently since a couple months ago too. It’s quite…. Odd honestly.”

I kinda wanna see him some more though…

“You think he’s trying to get something from us?” Perched on the top of your head, Grim tilts his head forward a little to try and make curious eye contact with you. With his pitchfork-like tail wagging around in the air, you casually make your way down the stairs from NRC’s main building to head back to Ramshackle dorm.

“I hope not. Not like I'll just let him anyway, man I hope we don't see him again.”

I wonder where he could be right now… could he… be busy? It’d be nice to see him again…

With a lift of your foot, another step is placed off the hard slate wooden stairs as you now continue onward. Classes have ended and an assortment of dispersed students with colors consisting of their respecting dorms filter through the halls quickly. Some going back to rest in their dorm rooms, others maybe attending after school club activities, or perhaps some going to pursue their other hobbies. Whatever time is available, every student here uses it to the fullest.

“Ya could say that again. If he comes by again then I’ll just blow out my flames and cook him dry! Nyahaha!”

His arrogant laugh makes you roll your eyes as a soft smile forms on your face, slightly shaking your head with Grims weight on top. “Hah, sure, whatever you say Grim.”

“It's THE Great Grim!”

With a flick of your wrist and a scoff, you couldn't bother to resay his name just for his own satisfaction even in a sarcastic manner. Tilting your head in a mischievous manner, you feel the weight of Grim scrambling and jumping off with a hoarse yelp coming from him. As he lands on his paws, you let out a giggle watching his scowling face directed towards you.

“I was trying to look at the sky, but you were in the way, Grim hehehe.” Knowing that was not at all the case, before Grim could retort he pauses and it causes you to stop in your tracks as well. Standing on the gray pavemented pathway near the open ended exit from which you both came from, you looked down at Grim a bit curiously. “Grim? Why’d you stop?”

Now on all fours, Grim perks his head up as if tailing an annoying fly around his head. With more cat-like animatics, Grim starts swirling his head just slightly and sniffing as if he can see a delicious aroma in those cartoon episodes. “Somethin’ smells good…”

The cold weather makes it hard for odor particles to pass through due to the more compact molecules, however you can tell just how drawn Grim is to whatever may be causing the smell. Taking a big inhale, you try smelling whatever it is that Grim may be smelling, your chest puffing up as you take in a big amount of air in your lungs.

“I don't smell anything Grim, what are you-”

“Ah! Over there!” It seems he has found the source of whatever it may be he was smelling, pinpointing it rather quickly as he scurries off. “Ah! Wait Grim! Where are you going?!” Before you can follow suit, not so far off a voice calls out and grabs your attention.

“Ah, good evening prefect.”

Turning your head around, you’re met with no one but Jade. His voice divulging you and making his presence known. Although so suddenly and randomly, you can’t help but feel a sense of tingling in your chest.

Jade!

“J-Jade! What are you doing here?” Changing your position from almost sprinting off, you shift yourself back to face Jade instead to properly converse with him. Upon looking up at him, you note the clouded and dull gray skies as it soars vastly.

“Classes have ended some time ago, I was merely on the way back to my dorm. I would assume that it’s the same for you, yes?” Jade stood comfortably, not another layer of clothing on him in sight to withstand the colder weather while he sticks to nothing but his usual uniform wear. You, on the other hand, had a thicker jacket on top of your uniform to help adapt to the temperature around.

“Well, I was. That was until Grim ran off somewhere again. Hah, seriously I might as well forget about trying to chase after him. He can come back whenever he wants.” With a defeated sigh, you slightly slouch forward with your arms swinging from back to back.

“Hmm well if that's the case, may I walk you back to your dorm?”

You’ve been getting used to how casual he’s been lately, considering the amount of times you’ve been seeing each other through mere “coincidences.” Though recently whenever Jades around you can't but help to have that lingering feeling of wanting to stay with him just a bit longer. Whenever he leaves he immediately fills up your mind whenever you allow it to and you can't help but let your mind wander. Is this perhaps…?

“Hello? (Y/N)? Are you spacing out?” With his hand waving in front of you to snap you out of your daze, your unfocused stare comes back into reality and out of your thoughts. “Huh? What?”

How adorable…

“I asked if I could walk you back to your dorm. If you aren’t feeling well then-”

“Oh no! I’m perfectly fine! I just spaced out for a bit haha. But uhm, I don't mind if you did accompany me back.”

In the way you responded allowed you to give you a sense of freedom to where you aren’t actually giving him a direct and decisive response. More so an indecisive one. Slightly fidgeting with the hem of your jacket you give him a lightly aired chuckle to ease up the atmosphere.

“So I would say you want me to accompany you back, correct?”

“Well I didn’t say that I didn’t want you to accompany me”

“You’re rather indirect with what you want (Y/N).” With a slight tut, shaking his head like a common motion of showing one's dismay you can only rile backup to defend yourself with reason.

“No I'm not! I said I didn’t-! Hah, whatever. Fine, I would like it if you were to accompany me back to Ramshackle Jade.”

“Fufu very well then. It would be my pleasure too.” Seriously, he seems to always have a way with words. Putting you on the spot like that so easily and casually.

But at least we’d be able to spend time together again.

The two of you make your way back over to Ramshackle, following the usual pathway you commonly take when out of classes. The silence lingering between you both causes you to fidget some more as you try to make it obvious you're not at all bothered by it. Staring straight ahead while you see Jade in the corner of your eye next to you as you both walk along-side each other, you can only wonder why he isn't saying anything. Usually Jade makes conversation with you whenever you two are together, perhaps he just isn’t feeling all that talkative. An unfamiliar tension is slightly there, one that wasn’t there before and you can't understand why but to only question it.

Perhaps it's the cold, but you feel your cheeks slightly growing a little red. What other reason could there be? Next to you Jade remains silent while peacefully walking next to you, and without your knowledge, he smiles just slightly feeling a slight of anticipation.

“Curious, but do you maybe know why Grim ran off (Y/N)?” Jade finally breaks the silence by asking a question, you feel a slight relief in your chest.

“Aha, I don't know. He said that he smelled something good… Maybe food? Probably someone is snacking around here and he may be a victim to Grim’s antics and persistence haha.”

“That is not the case” Looking over to Jade who sounds so sure of himself, it quizzes a question out of you. “What do you mean? How can you be so sure?”

“Why, I would know of course. Because I was the one who placed some salted steamed fish near the bushes.”

“What? Then why’d you ask?!” With a nonchalant smile on his face it can only be contrasted to your taken back and startled reaction. Placing a hand on your back, Jade continues the path while guiding you along to continue further with him. “Wait, more importantly why did you do that?”

Jade stays quiet, that smile still on his face as he continues to keep his hand on your back. Wait, now that you think about it you two are going off course and straying from the usual path you take to head back to Ramshackle. With your heart quickening in your chest, you can only start to nervously sweat at where this is going. “U-Uh Jade? Where are we going? What are you doing?”

As his eyes slowly turn to look at you, his head still facing forward however and his smile ever the same, you can't help but to shiver a bit and get a feeling that whatever he’s planning isn't going to go well. “Oya, there’s no need to be so nervous now. I thought we might take a detour to enjoy the weather a bit more.”

“No but uh, you didn't answer my ques-” Suddenly bringing his hand from your back to wrap around your shoulders, he draws you close into his side and it prompts you to stop your walk and just freeze from the surprise. “Why? Well I simply wanted to be alone with you of course.”

Your whole right side of your body is pressed up against his left side. With wide eyes, you don't dare to look over to Jade, refusing to let him see your sudden flusteredness. Your heart is beating so loud that you’re hoping that he can’t hear it as well. His arm around you almost longingly, the sudden stillness as you both don't move a muscle, and the sound of your heart beating at a rapid pace as if on a roller coaster. You really wish you could say that the whole reason your face is red is because of the cold and your body temperature just suddenly dropped! But it would make more sense that you’d be blue and purple then red… So then why exactly are you-

“Oh dear, look at you getting so red in the face. Do you perhaps like the weight of my arm around you?” You didn’t even notice, too occupied in your own thoughts and spacing out, that Jade had proceeded to lean forward to be face to face with you. “Wha-!”

A pleased smile is formed as he sees you snap out of your thoughts and he leans back up and adjusts his arm around you to let it sit more comfortably. Looking back up at the scenery the sky has to hold, he holds you ever so lovingly and affirmably.

“J-Jade what is- what are-! What’s going on!?” Matching the weather, you freeze stiffly in his hold, unfamiliar to his loving touch. It was rather unusual for him to make such a bold and tender move, a foreign feeling yet for you to adjust to.

The sky is covered in splotches of clouded gray cotton, the meek shine from the sun is still blocked by the airy cold sheet of gas yet still blinding to look at. Inhaling the dewy air that gives oneself a sense of refreshment, Jade closes his eyes and tilts his head up to admire the brightened gray scale that vasts above you both.

“Tell me, Prefect,” beginning to speak calmly, you try to distract yourself from your close proximity and focus on what he had to say next. “The moon is quite beautiful, is it not?”

“What?” Killing your stiffness, you’re found to be quite dumbfounded and caught off guard. “What are you talking about Jade? It’s still daytime and the moon isn’t even-”

Pausing, you let his words sink in. The moon isn’t out. His arms are around you. You both are together, secluded. You are alone with him. No Grim. No Deuce. No Floyd. No Azul. Just you and him.

Badum. Wait, is he…

Badum. Did he just tell me…

Badum. Badum. Badum. He knows what that means…

Badumbadumbadumbadumbadum! He just told me he loves-!

“Cat got your tongue? I hope that isn’t the case, it was the only reason why I sent Grim away from us after all.” His thumb is soothingly rubbing circles into your arm while he keeps you in place, ensuring you don't spring up or leave from his hold in any way. This was like his own way of trying to calm you down, fully aware of how thunderstruck you may be at the moment; the motions of his gesture somewhat helping.

“Jade.”

“Yes?”

“Back in the lounge…. You….”

“Yes, indeed. I said the same thing then as well.”

“Then you… Are you saying- that you… Did you just…”

No longer looking at the sky, he turns his head to give you his full undivided attention, waiting for you patiently to make your conclusion. Still refusing to look him in the eyes, you droop your head lower just a little as you feel yourself getting smaller in his arm. Bringing your hands together, your fingers start to fiddle with each limb and cloth it can find near its reach, usually playing around with the hem of your uniform under the blanket of your jacket.

Slightly opening your mouth, your brows furrow and you swear you can feel your knees go slightly weak if not for the support of his arm grounding you. “I…”

This man is playing with me right now.

Without even having to look, you can just feel his eyes on you. Finally reverting back to your more casual self, you shake your head with a sigh feeling more calm. “Hah, okay Jade I love you too.”

“My, what a bold confession there.”

“At least I didn’t confess indirectly.”Finally looking up at him, you give him a bit of sass as you roll your eyes and a chuckle escapes his lips. His grip becomes slightly more firm and if you were to lean on his chest, you can swear that his heart was beating just as loudly as yours.

“You’re finally looking at me, my dear Pearl.” His eyes soften as you look into his olive and golden eyes, his voice laced with such affection that it makes your body feel tingling with how much warmth it held despite the cold air. “Pearl…” Slowly repeating what he said quietly, letting the words sink in further more, your eyes widen and a slight sparkle glosses over. His other hand comes over and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the softness it brings. “Yes, my Pearl.” Jade droops his head lower till your foreheads touch, releasing his hold on your shoulder to then cup the other side of your face. Your cheeks might just be comparable to that of a hand warmer, but you can't help it. Not when he’s being so tender like this. Not when he’s locking eyes with you while giving you the most love-stricken smile ever. Not when you two are so close. “The moon is very beautiful right Jade?” You softly lull out, the growing thoughts of him filling up your head space.

“Very, it really is beautiful.” A little giggle ushers out, a giddy smile and tender hands. A loving look and a fond voice. A dovey feeling and a pacing heart. There, on the side of the public pavement road, stood two lovebirds where the trees bristle through the wind and hide them both perfectly. “It’s very enchanting if I must add. The moon that is. In fact, its shape and glow is similar to one of a pearl. A very beautiful one indeed.”

Tilting your head a little closer, your foreheads staying connected as he continues to hold your face and your hands on his, his words only make you quirk a wider smile. “You know, you’re making my heart beat very fast right now you know that? If I die because of you, you’d be put behind bars.”

“Hmmmm, really now? And what makes you so sure I'd allow them to catch me so easily?”

“Why do I like you?”

“In fact you don’t. You professed you love me not too long ago.”

“You’re right, unfortunately. I do, in fact, love you Jade Leech.”

Months of preparation, months filled with longing, months filled with shadowed moves, months filled with perseverance and patience, Jade Leech has finally accomplished what he’s worked for in one swell swoop from you. A kiss to the lips from the person who he always loved from the sidelines, now here in his hold as they reciprocate his mutual feelings.

Can we stay in this moment forever?

Watching you with the way you close your eyes just to kiss him, can he just stay in this moment forever? Forever to see the way your lashes sprawl out, long enough for him to count each and every piece of hair. Forever to feel your lips against his, long enough to remember the sensation and feeling of your soft lips. Forever to engulf himself in your natural aroma, long enough to have a sense of peace when he smells your scent. With his eyes open, even in the kiss he can't help but to just close it. Not when someone so beautiful is right in front of him. The first to place a kiss and the first to draw back from it, you quickly turn back around and bury your face in your hands.

Ah, they're getting all shy now. I wish it would have lasted longer…

“Ohmyfuckinggodijustkissedhimmmmm!” Whilst squealing in your hands Jade comes over and wraps his arms around your hunched figure, fully embracing you as he starts to feel gushy himself and nuzzles his cheek on the crown of your head. A big goofy silly smile on his face.

“Oh what’s wrong my dear Pearl? You’re so red that it can rival Riddle's hair.”

“Hah, I wonder who’s causing such a symptom.” Removing your hands away from your face, you turn your head to meet Jade's beaming smile and red cheeks with your slight pouty and red face.

“I would gladly like to proclaim that I was the cause of such said symptoms.”

“Gosh why did I even-”

Turning his head closer to yours as he leans over your shoulder, his voice suddenly becomes low and serious. The way he can suddenly change the mood with his tone tickles your ear and sends chills down your spine in a good way. His arms around your figure hugging you securely like a vine wrapping itself against a gate.

“I want to be the only one to make you feel this way, to have you look this way, to have you react this way. I would gladly like to be the reason for it knowing your affections for me are genuine. Just for you, I’d love to be that reason.”

…

“Fufufu, oh? To think your face couldn’t get any more red. Look at you, oh how wrong I was~”

“Jade you little-!”

Turning around to engulf him in the same manner, you bury yourself in his chest. There you go, now you can confirm for real that his heart was indeed beating just as fast as yours. Standing still to hold each other in your arms, your red and burning face finding shelter in his bosom while he radiates a silly smile with red coated cheeks, you take the time to remember how things even came to be the way they are now. And as the two of you indulge each other, far off in Ramshackle dorm Grim is looking around to see if you’ve yet arrived.

Moving his king up now in front of yours, thinking you’d make no move, he’s caught off guard as you pick up your king and take his. After all his chess pieces have eaten yours, nothing left but your king stood hopeful for him to take. Yet what a surprise of events that your heart took in the final move. It was a checkmate, and in the palm of your hand you gently held his king close to your heart.

tag! - @thehollowwriter @pandaforcexd @officialdaydreamer00

I hope you guys enjoyed this read, sorry it took forever!

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #jade leech twst #jade leech x reader #jade leech fluff #twst jade #azul ashengrotto #leech twins #floyd leech #deuce spade #jack howl #ortho shroud #twst fluff #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland jade leech #jade leech x yuu #octavinelle

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jujutsukgojo · 15 days

Text

My gifts to you

feitan portor x reader

Summary: You knew him for years for only moments at a time. Yet, you take it upon yourself to love and mourn him anyway, even when the world won't. tw: light smut, slight yandere feitan, spoilers, mentions of murder, light angst, fluff(?), injuries, cheating, time skips an: didn't mean for it to be this long. Feitan is a bit tricky for me but oh well :) kind of inspired by criminal minds 'no way out'. 10.8k

“If you tie it like this, it should stay, okay?” You tap the boy’s foot. Although he is smaller than you in height, his feet are bigger. It’s quite comical but you don’t dare laugh. In this blasted city, you’d be bound to die for such a thing. Especially if you laugh at someone with crazy hair and carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

He says something in a foreign language that you can’t understand. If you are correct, it may be inverted Japanese. In the books that one kid collects, there is a country, Japan, where the common language originates. Since the common language isn’t his mother tongue, it makes you wonder where he’s from and why he’s here.

The boy stands up to his full, but short, height. You sit on random rubble and look up at him, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he call over Phinks or even bring Uvogin? He hangs out with Phinks mainly but who knows these days.

Instead of swinging the bat at you or calling over his friends, he pats your head awkwardly. You don’t make any sudden movements or noises. The boy leaves right after. A sigh escapes your lips after he leaves you behind.

What's his name again? Feitain?

__________

In your hut, you slightly stir the food that sizzles in the pan you found. It’s rare to come across tomatoes and eggs but you managed this time. The smell is mouth watering. You hope no one else can smell it.

As much as you want to live elsewhere, this is what you settle for at the moment. In another world, you’d be out of this city and somewhere clean and safe. Like the church or something. No, even better than the church. You’ve heard of the outside where there are bright flashing lights and diamonds and pearls on people’s necks. There are flowers of all colors out there. Different shapes, smells, and meanings, they’re all beautiful. You hear that food isn’t scavenged but bought or given to people without a price.

People said they’ve seen the safety of children your age that play without a care. There are parents for the lost kids and doctors for the injured. Clean clothes and showers on the regular. You can even see the sun clearly and the big, round moon that doesn't bring out the wolves in men.

There are pastors and priests that don’t turn people away, either. Hell, you have even wondered if there were schools there that allow everyone to get in. You're sure that you are reading and doing math wrong. How embarrassing.

Finally done, you place the food on a plastic plate you found. You made sure to wipe the grime off the plate and rinsed it with clean water before using it. Even though you can just eat out of the pan, you want to seem sophisticated like the outside. They don't eat out of pans or use dirty plates.

The food steams and is welcoming. Without a lot of utensils, you pick at it with your hands. It burns at first but you’re too hungry. The flavor bursts in your mouth. Even without the proper seasonings, it’s still heaven. You haven’t eaten in a while so you’ll take what you can get.

Suddenly, the boy, Feitan, enters your hut. You gasp and protectively cover your food. He brings his foot out. His shoe, which he stole, is untied again. You swallow the substance and point out, “I taught you how to tie them.”

“Tie.”

“I taught you.” You set your plate down.

“Tie.” You roll your eyes and pat your thighs. He walks over to you and places his dirt caked shoe on your lap. Slowly, you tie them.

“There, see? Come on now, you need to learn. A little boy can’t grow without tying his shoes.”

“I’m not little boy.” You give a breathy chuckle. “Of course you are, honey.”

He leans in close to your face. “I’m older than you.”

...He does hang out with Phinks, who is a couple years older than you. In fact, it is rare to see them apart. Is it possible that it’s true? Is Phinks the type to be friends with someone who is younger?

Curious, you ask, “Then why are you so short?” His eyes widened in shock. Then, strangely, he laughs while patting your head harshly. Studying his face revealed what looks like the beginning of a sinister smile.

He looks at your plate and sits down in front of you. You’re both on the dirt floor.

“Give me.” You scoff and snap at him. “No! Find your own!”

The little beast decided that the two of you should ‘share’. He smacks on his food, making you want to punch him repeatedly. He’s gaunt and bony, but not really bad like last time. His face has a tiny bit of roundness to it.

“Stop staring.” He inhales a tomato. “You look better than last time.”

“Better?” He cocks his head to the side. The remnants of the tomato smeared a little on his cheek.

“Yeah, healthier.” He stares at you for a second. “Thanks.” His accent is thick, and you still can’t place it. Nevertheless, you understand. Afterwards, much to your surprise, he sleeps in your hut now that his belly is full. Satisfied and strangely not afraid, you follow suit. It’s nice to have a friend, however strange.

You are barely awake, sleep still heavy in your eyes, when you see him pop up. Drool is crusted on his cheek, and he rubs his eyes. He yawns and then spots you next to him. Feitan eyes the entry of the hut then back at you. He puts the only cover you have on you then pets your head.

Before he leaves, he places his bat in your hand. Feitan secures the entry as he exits the hut.

_____________

It’s been years since you and Feitan have talked. You've gotten familiar with him but when Sarasa had died in such a disrespectful and gruesome way, he withdrew. In the meantime, you waited for him and studied a power you discovered. No matter the eyes that were always on you, you didn’t care about the mysterious and hidden audience.

You don’t know what it’s called but it started when you witnessed some kid about to get her ass handed to her by some thugs. The man had moved a pair of scissors without using his hands. They aimed right towards her and in a moment of instinct, you rushed to push her out of the way. Unfortunately, the scissors stabbed you in the shoulder.

It was then did you feel the rush of a force so strong, that it knocked everyone away from you. A faint white light that glowed from your skin that only your eyes could see. As you looked around in shock, you saw that same glow coming from that man and his friends.

You were gasping when you fell to your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t be here!” The girl your age ran for her life and left you behind. In a moment of fear, you call out to her to help you. You were so afraid; you couldn't tell if the screams were hers or yours. Given the situation, you were too rattled, terrified and hurt, to focus.

The men shook for a second then got up to face you. The blood from your shoulder wasn’t stopping its flow. Crimson red stained your clothes and the ground. It was all so strange, such an unusual feeling of adrenaline that you couldn’t help but memorize. Almost as if the world had finally made sense. Every single thing became so much clearer to your dismay.

The men came towards you with malicious intent. While putting pressure on your injury, you managed to kick one of their legs, causing them to buckle and hurt his knee. He screamed in agony.

“G-get away!” You try to stand. The press of your hand on the wound isn’t helping. Is it supposed to bleed this much? It hit your shoulder, but did it nick something?

You need to stop it, to heal and get away from them. In this city, people like you are in danger from men like them. If you don’t get away, you’ll end up like Sarasa. She was never really close to you. She was a nice girl who always looked for video tapes, so you'd help her from time to time. Yet, her death scarred everyone since it was so close to home. And now, you no doubt are facing the exact same situation. Wrong place, wrong time.

Same fate.

You fell back on the ground and looked at the sky. It has always been so dirty, just like the city due to pollution. Still so young, you know you won’t see what it really looks like. In the corner of your eye, you spot something green. A small clover with four leaves.

One time, an old man told a story of how four-leaf clovers are a sign of good luck. By the intense feeling and pressure of your eyes, you know it’s not true. Pain in all ways makes tears fall from your eyes. Lips wobbling at how unfair everything is and that you will never see the sun. The outside must really be heaven, and for someone so young who hasn’t committed a sin, you are wondering if you can go.

Suddenly, flowers that you never knew blossomed around you. The soft petals touched your filthy skin and got rid of the aches. The blood on your shoulder faded from view as well as the pain. A soft and beautiful hum whispered in your ear. You truly believed it to be in your head, an imagination of paradise as you leave. Heaven, they call it. You must be close to the outside world then.

This must be it, you thought. There was no pain from a strike or fear. Just closed eyes and peace. Something you know you couldn’t get in the atrocious city.

It ends. You were shocked as the beautiful flowers disappeared. Heaven, would you reject someone?

The men didn’t hurt you. The one whose knee was broken was able to move his leg. His red hair kind of glowed in the sun, and brown eyes were wide. He muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and walked away without a limp. His friends followed.

After that, you had realized that your ability wasn’t anything like scissors or something scary. It was to heal and be healed.

Although after immediately learning this, you didn't go out of your way to find the source of the screams in the direction the people went. First was the girl, then the group of men. After what you went through, it didn't seem like a good idea.

Feitan, somehow, got wind of it. Now in his later teen years you both estimate, he sits still and points to his arm. There’s a gnarly gash oozing blood. You wonder how he’s not feeling this and if he is, how he isn’t even fazed.

You gently pick up his arm and inspect it. He's thin but has clear definition in his arms. You haven’t seen him in so long that you are surprised by his growth. Hell, he’s taller now. Still short, but at least he grew.

In a jar, you take a premade petal. This is a way for you to save energy and reach people when you physically can’t tend to. Acting as a pill, you make sure that people can get infections out. For some reason, illnesses and infections are particularly tricky and tiring for you.

“Eat this, Feitan.” He frowns. “No.” You sigh. “It’s infected. You need to eat this so I can heal it right.”

“It’s not.”

Rolling your eyes you bring his wound to his face. “This, this is infected. It's literally oozing pus.” How long did this go on? Was he really that hesitant to just come and see you?

He growls and takes the delicate petal and places it in his mouth. “Stop pouting.”

“Not pouting. It’s nasty.” He’s not wrong. It has a bitter taste and when chewed, a slimy texture. The color of the disintegrating petal leaves a stain in the mouth as well. If not for the benefits, no one would even bother. They'd be just as offended as Feitan.

The pus stops and clears up. “Alright, this’ll leave a scar.”

You blow on your hand so that flowing blossoms surround him. Beautiful shades of pink and white go through his hair. With a gentle caress, you see the flurries touch his wound. It starts to encourage his own healing.

As much as you want to do the full thing, you’re tired. All day you’ve been working and collecting payments. Not to mention facing the disappointment of them being useless. You want to kick yourself for not getting paid first. But the sight of those grateful people and healed kids softens your heart.

Soon, it stops once the injury becomes manageable. You’re about to wrap it when a hand stops you. “What’s this?”

“Feitan, I'm tired. You caught me at a bad time.” You try to move your hand but he stops you. He's a lot stronger than you remember. “Heal.”

His fluency isn’t the greatest still.

“I’m tired! Just let it heal the rest of the way.” No matter how much you try to yank your hand away, his grip is too strong. “Please, Feitan...”

Surprisingly, he lets go and from what you can see, the subtle white glow appears and heals him the rest of the way, leaving small flames. “Feitan...what was that?”

He rolls his eyes and plops down on a chair. He says nothing and just relaxes, or at least that’s what he’s trying to make it seem like. It has been a while since you’ve seen him, but that doesn’t make you blind to his behaviors…sometimes.

“As a transmuter, I can heal a little by using enhancer,” He looks at you suspiciously. “You know nothing about nen?”

“Nen?” You put the gauze and other items in a black bag. It was found in the safe zone by the church. Apparently, it belonged to a doctor from the outside. The bag had all kinds of necessities. Gauze, medicine, some syringes, disinfectant, a thermometer, all kinds of stuff that you’ve had to use sparingly. What you save in the bag, you make up for with your ability.

He smacks his lips and calls you a ‘dumb brat’. “You use nen but don’t know it?”

Sighing, you ask, “What is nen, Feitan?”

“What you do. Use your aura and stuff.” His arms are crossed, and he looks at you expectantly. You gather that he likes knowing things you don’t. It’s like a weak power trip.

But it is nice to finally have a name and explanation for it. And that’s what he did this time. Visiting you for a moment just to pick with you while teaching you something you should have known.

“Wait, if you could do that, why’d you come here?” He just shrugs.

------

When you see him again, he brings his friends along. You immediately recognize some of them. Phinks, who ran with Feitan, the boy who always collected books, and Uvogin, the giant who was always claiming territory and beating people up.

Feitan should be twenty now. It’s hard to tell since he looks youthful. He points to his friend, the boy with the books, and orders, “Heal.”

“You can do it, Feitan, remember?” You were in the middle of cleaning when he and the rest of his posse pop up. They look flustered and a little worse for wear.

“Heal.” He always does crap like this. You roll your eyes at first. The body they carry tugs on your strings a bit.

“Fine. Put him on the table.” Thankfully, it’s cleaned, and a new wrapping has been placed on it. Gently, the man is put on it. You spot the cross tattoo on his forehead. Ah, that’s where Feitan has been. Lately, there’s been whispers of the Phantom Troupe. Merciless killers and thieves from Meteor City that have been gaining respect over the years. Your opinion of them isn’t the greatest but it also isn’t the worst. You appreciate them for standing up for Meteor City, but their methods are questionable.

You sigh and begin to undress the boy with the cross. “Is that necessary?”

You continue to pull off his clothes, not bothering to answer the question the girl asked. If she can’t understand why you need to remove his clothes, then that’s on her. She scoffs after another female voice answers her question.

You finally see his wound. Feitan can heal himself to a degree, but you don’t think this guy can. The gash is deep and sewed with makeshift stitches. There’s no nen involved, surprisingly. Given that Feitan is an avid user, you thought his friends would be keen on it too.

“He’s a specialist. Enhancer techniques are harder for him.” Phinks spoke. He must've understood your confusion.

“And the stitches?” You gently investigate the area. It’s an angry red around it and, like you suspected, infected. It wasn’t properly taken care of. You begin to remove the stitches. You wonder what the thread is made of and how long this has been going on.

“He,” Phinks points to Uvogin. “And him,” He then points to another large man with long ears. “Thought they could do it. Normally, Machi heals us but they were away from her. Her stitches would have helped him but not any infections.”

“Ah, well this requires more than I thought.” You touch the ground and out comes a beautiful swirl of flowers. Underneath the moving petals is a blooming sunflower. It picks the guy up so he rests on it. The bed of the flower glows softly and becomes warm. His once wincing face is now peaceful. His injury is slowly closing and the red is beginning to turn pink.

“The downside of this is that it takes a while. It’ll be all healed up in about an hour or so.”

“ An hour?” Uvogin, who has abandoned his afro and traded it for long standing hair. “Feitan, I thought you said she was good? We could’ve gone to that one guy and got it done right then and there.”

“She’s the best. Wait.” His hands are in his pockets and he moves. Feitan looks around and touches whatever he pleases. You try not to focus on his compliment. You wonder if the reason he moved from your line of sight is because he got embarrassed. If so, you won’t tease him. The Troupe are killers, afterall.

You start to feel the weight of your nen. This technique requires more effort than the others. Feitan explained it to you but you never did get the hang of it. You just know what to do instinctively. You were proud that you could do any of this without a teacher.

What you’re sure of is that this man, whatever his name is, is giving you a crap ton of money after this or there’ll be hell to pay.

You feel something tickling the side of your face. The wrapper is red and unopened. You take the energy bard gratefully. “Thank you, Feitan.”

A couple of the Troupe members complain about the time. Machi or Mochi or whatever, the pink haired one, especially complains and criticizes for some reason. You have never seen this person before in your life yet here she is pouting.

“You okay?” You see the blond boy with big blue eyes study you closely. He moves closer to your face. A smile never leaves his face. Before you can answer, Feitan, who hasn’t left your side since you ate the bar, answers for you.

“She’s fine. I’m watching her.”

You hear a couple of snickers. Feitan glares daggers at the offenders. You take a deep breath and ignore the friends who decided to crowd inside your hut. The boy with the forehead tattoo lies peacefully. Although you are running out of steam, his wound is healing nicely. One of the women, you believe it’s Pakunoda, comes to you and bends down.

“Can I get you anything?” You discover that your throat is absolutely parched. “Some water, please.”

If you remember correctly, the last you saw of her was when her head was shaved and some outsider kid did it. She had always kept it short. And now, it’s on her shoulders and very sleek. Over the years she’s drastically changed.

You drink the water, which to your surprise, is clean. “Hey, how did this happen anyway?”

“Don’t ask questions.” Feitan quickly shuts you down. Before you can ask anything more, you notice the entire group of friends are quiet.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” You nod at the blonde boy with blue eyes and a permanent smile. Completing the hour, the tattoo guy is up. He’s immediately impressed. “My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours?” He puts out his hand for you to shake.

“Yeah, the book collector-theater nerd-kid, right? My name’s-” Before you can even answer, Feitan does it for you.

He gives your name and how your Nen works. He’s quick with it, too. You side eye Feitan for a second. “Thanks, Feitan. I, uh, really needed a spokesperson.”

“Ah, I guess it can’t be helped then, Feitan?” There’s tension in the air. It’s thick and heavy. By the looks of it, neither one is backing down. “Um, it’s not a big deal that he answered for me, you do know that, right?”

Seconds pass through this. You look around for anyone to intervene with this. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s deep. “Since Fei explained it, why not have her join?”

“Positions are filled.” Chrollo still stares directly into Feitan’s eyes. Phinks nervously chuckles, once again trying to defuse the situation. “Fei, come on. No fighting. Right boss?”

Suddenly, it’s lifted. Chrollo has what looks like a practiced smile on his face. “That’s true. That’s a rule.”

Chrollo takes a glance at you. “She obviously means a lot to you. Clearly, she’s an asset, too.”

“I’m right here, jackass.” Feitan smacks you on the head. “I’ll handle her.”

The others sigh in relief. Momentarily, you’re a little offended. “It was nice meeting you.”

They exit your hut right after, leaving Feitan behind. “So. those were your friends, huh?”

“Watch tongue.” You smack your lips and roll your eyes. There is blood on the floor and on the table. The furniture is in disarray due to all of his friends having no home training. “I haven’t seen you in forever and this is how you greet me?”

He frowns. “I say hello all the time.” You turn to him. “When? I didn’t see you.”

Feitan huffs and kicks the ground lightly. You get up to move the furniture back to place. Your movements are slow and everything seems so much heavier. Everything is swirling right before your eyes. Your head hurts and yet feels so light. Before you meet the ground, Feitan takes you to the couch and lays you down.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, little boy…” Those were the last words you say before you drift to sleep.

Hours later, you wake up at the sound of birds. There is a beautiful blue blanket on you with golden yellow designs. It’s thick and so warm you could stay forever. You’ve never owned anything like this.

Slowly you get up and search for Feitan. He’s nowhere to be found much to your dismay. Last night’s conversation still stays with you. He insisted that he says hello all the time. That he sees you regularly, yet, you haven’t seen him at all.

The blanket, the wind chime, the medical supplies, the various decorations with stones, paint and if you weren’t smart, you’d say gold. Could Feitan have been the one to give you gifts? Silently watching over you and in his own way, saying hello? You have felt like you were being watched for years.

____________

“Do you understand why I didn’t welcome you?”

“No, and I never will. Now please, leave me alone.” You feel convicted by turning a man of God away, but can he truly be one when he left a child to suffer? You were in the cold, wind, and rain, alone in one of the worst parts of the city. All you had was Feitan, and he was there once in a blue moon. After the rejection from the church, you took it upon yourself to care for others as no one had ever cared for you. Although hurt and afraid, you chose not to spread that toxicity. You decided that no matter the size of change, it still works.

However, you will not fall prey to the same people. For instance, that girl you saved and this priest. How can he expect your services with no repentance or atonement? You forgive, but like hell will you forget.

Damn…you were so sure you were over the pain of your past. That the change you made within yourself and how you treat people so no one else suffers like you, would stick. Alas, all it takes is one person to bring it down. You want to kick yourself because of the regression. Then again, the hostility isn’t your fault.

You walk into the hallway with small statues, stone walls, and large windows. The sun shines brightly through them, making the church seem prettier than it is.

“Please-”

“She said no.” Feitan stands with his hands in his pockets, the sun shining on his pale skin. It has been a few months since the incident with Chrollo. You haven’t seen any of them but have felt eyes on you, which you have deduced was Feitan. However, you learned the truth of the blanket. The name stitched on it belonged to an old clan, the Kurta, that was mutilated, tortured, and murdered by the Phantom Troupe. It disgusts you. The blanket is comfortable but still.

Feitan, the boy who you taught to tie his shoes, gave you a trophy of his crime. You wanted to burn it, or bury it in the memory of the Kurta, yet you couldn’t. It’s a gift from the one consistent person in your life. Your protector and giver. So, you folded it and put it in a box.

Now, here he is like he’s done nothing wrong. Defending you and putting the man that’s been with the city for ages in his place. You’re shocked at his behavior.

“Feitan, surely you must understand!”

“Shut up.” Father Rizole took a step back in surprise. Feitan was one of his regulars, if you remember correctly. This must be a surprise for the aging priest.

You hum at the scene. Even though the rumors of what the Troupe has done bothers you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t opposed to the benefits. The priest backs up and sighs.

“If you ever reconsider, please, let me know. We could use your help.”

“I could’ve used it too.” You end the conversation there and leave. Feitan soon follows you. He’s silent on his feet and very fast. Feitan was behind you but his quick feet caught up in less than a second. Now, he walks right at your side.

“So, you just decide when you want to see me?”

Feitan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Sighing, you turn to him and ask, “What do you need this time?” The lower half of his face is hiding under a plain cowl now. His eyes show all of the emotion needed. “I just hang out.”

The sun is too hot for this nonsense. Sweat trickles down your face and back, becoming sticky. “So that’s why you’re here, right? I’m shocked.”

Before he can say your name, you continue. “Oh! And let's not forget the little massacre that took place, huh? Yeah, being used to heal your friend from that was really fun.”

“I didn’t.”

You roll your eyes. “No, just that one guy. That’s who to you, again?”

“Boss.” You scoff at his short answer. Then, you think about the possibility. “Your boss? Then…doing that to the Kurta, wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No, not mine.” His hands remain in his pockets. His hair blows in the wind slightly. You realize he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while.

“If you could, you know, go back in time…would you still do it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no thought put into the answer. Just a plain as day answer and a tone that leaves no room for an explanation.

“So whatever he wants he just gets? As long as it aligns with your twisted mind, right?”

His eyes grow darker. “I save you.”

You point to the church. “No, no you didn’t. That guy wasn’t going to do anything to me. I had it handled.”

Shaking your head, you go to leave until a hand wraps around your wrist. “Boss takes nen. I didn’t let him.”

Was that what that was? That tension that day that was suffocating? Remembering that day, you start to form pieces. “Would he hurt you if you didn’t go along with his schemes?”

“No.”

Well there goes that idea. “Nevermind.”

You try to yank your wrist from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let me go!”

“I protect you, always. Bad people here, everywhere. I get dirty for you.” His face is indifferent but his words give it away. The plea for you to understand and realize, dare you say, his devotion to his friends. Does this include you?

Is that what it is? What friendship, this connection is? You are aware of the deeds the Troupe do. You understand why they thought it would be a good idea (somewhat anyway).

“Thank you, then.” He lets go of your wrist which was grabbed painfully tight. He trades that in for holding your hand instead. You are shocked at first, but if you make it a big deal, he’ll stop. You don’t want him to right now.

Not when you feel safe. You still want to kick yourself… and maybe throw in a punch.

_____

Apparently, the Troupe have gone their separate ways for now. They don’t cling onto each other for a long period of time after a job. It’s better that way since it has a lesser chance of them getting caught. They still hang out from time to time, though.

For you, you managed to get out of Meteor City after the argument with the priest. Feitan had gone to do another heist with Phinks, if you remember right. You took that moment to skip town. You never wanted to stay in the trash, anyway.

And you were right to! Everything you thought of as a child about the world outside was true! Sure, people can be rude and things can be corrupt, but you’re fed and resting. There are bright lights and kind people. It can be clean and the soap smells so good. Just the other day you got to experience a nail salon. Rather than stealing from you, the lady next to you, Jade, talked about her family. Her daughter is Ruby and her wife is Scarlet. Jade and Scarlet want another child. You offered the name Emerald.

In Meteor City, you would’ve had to fight. Now, you are making friends and offering beautiful names. It’s a stark contrast that is fully welcomed.

The sun is bright and the moon is sometimes round. It doesn’t always attract evil and can sometimes sing such a beautiful melody. There are pearls and diamonds. There are seasonings that make the food taste unbelievably good. It’s all expensive, but infinitely better than Meteor.

And Nen is a secret here. In the city, many knew about it and used it without discretion. Here it’s different. Like a secret identity for a hero. Your nen in particular isn’t used as much as it was before. Your ability was so tiring. Pretty and incredibly useful, but exhausting nonetheless.

It has been a few years since you saw him, but he’s seen you. He found you quickly, too. When you came home from your office job (which you are still ecstatic about, by the way) you noticed a new painting in your house. It was dull and in black and white. The painting is of a few plants that take the center stage. Actually, they’re your nen plants. In the background is what looks like your old city. Piles of rubbish and polluted air in black swirls. There are clouds above and a dark sun barely poking out.

It’s sad. Beautiful, but sad. You have wondered what he meant by it. You open the door to your apartment. It’s not much and one day you want to get a house.

The keys make a jingle when you set them on the countertop. The apartment is still dark, so you scramble to flip the switch. “Why you leave?”

You scream at the top of your lungs. Standing there nonchalantly is Feitan, who you haven’t had contact with in a hot minute. His hair is even longer than before. He wears a new cowl that has a skull on it over his face. His trench coat looks a little too big for him but he wears it well anyway.

“Uh, because I live here? What are you doing here?” You set your bag down and take off your short heels. Although he’s a murderer, you still feel safe with him.

He takes slow strides towards you. “ Why? I looked for you and you weren’t there.”

“You knew where I was. I got your presents,” You point to the painting. He hides his face a little in the fabric. “I like it by the way. Did you do it?”

“Shut up.” You sigh and walk into your kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

You begin to wash the rice. Your eyes switch from looking down to taking obvious glances at him. Right about now, he should be in his mid twenties. It’s amazing how long you’ve known each other. You remember him as that kid who didn’t know how to tie his shoes and him teaching you about Nen. Time flies so fast when you least expect it.

You crack the eggs and whisk them. The sound of the utensil against the bowl and the sizzle of the tomatoes in the pan is all that is heard. Feitan doesn’t make one sound. He opts to stare at you working and even has a glint in his eye which you think could be satisfaction.

“Do you still like this, by the way? I remember you snatching it.” You try not to smile at the memory.

“I do.” He hovers in your kitchen, just waiting, watching you do all of the work. Stingy bastard. After adding the seasonings, you could have never gotten in Meteor City, you fix him a plate. He happily accepts it and sits down on the floor.

“I have a tab-” Oh, the memory. Allowing yourself to smile, you sit with him and eat off of his plate. “We’re sharing. ”

He gives a slight growl but doesn’t do anything. “So, what brings you by?”

“I say hello.” You hum with a mouth full of food. “Well, hello to you too, little boy.”

He gives you a light kick. The two of you finish the plate. Both full, you just lay back and talk.

“How long are you staying?”

“Not long.” You’ll miss him. “Running from the cops again?”

“Need to hide out for a bit.” You nod, accepting his answer and that your connection will probably always be sweet moments. “It’s nice to have you here, even only for a moment.”

Feitan taps you again with his foot. “I’m always here. I say hello all the time.” You know and are fully aware of what he means. His odd little gifts decorate your house. To bones, to rugs, even a china set he stole. It’s routine for him to give you something, even when you don’t see him.

“Even though you run.” He kicks you again. The more you watch him, the more your chest tightens. He’s the only consistent thing in your life. Everything is fleeting. Your job is new as well as your relationship with your coworkers. But there is a line with them. Feitan is different.

“How long are we going to do this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “I mean you coming by once in a blue moon.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.” You nod. “Figures.”

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, that this whole thing is tiring. You come and go like some kind of feral cat.”

“So?”

You sputter, “ So I don’t appreciate it.” He takes off his long coat and reveals his chest, next goes his shoes. “I sleep here.”

“You can’t use me!” He gets up and goes in the direction of your room. “Feitan!” You pick up his clothes and set them aside. “Do you hear me? I wasn’t done talking!”

On your bed is a sprawled out Feitan. He looks at you with squinted eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

Like always, he makes himself at home. You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him. “Move over.”

He scoffs and reluctantly moves out of your way. You feel him tense up as you lay down. “This is my bed. I can sleep here.”

You face each other as you lay down. Neither of you say anything about how close you are. This is probably the closest you’ve ever been since you helped him tie his shoes the second time. You feel his eyes on you, making you nervous. “Stop staring at me.”

“Never sleep with someone in a while.” You know. The last time was with you, no doubt. At the time, you didn't think about it, if you remember correctly. It's hard to tell since it's been so long.

“The couch is that way.” He smacks his lips. “No, you go.” You open your eyes.

“Like I said, this is my bed.” Feitan doesn’t say anything about your ownership. Instead, he’s honest with you. “I’m tired.”

Instantly, you start to feel a little bad. In the city, no child was ever able to fully sleep. It was too dangerous, especially in the more dangerous districts. Him being honest about his state, you take it as a step.

“If you want to, I’ll be on the lookout.” His hands are next to yours. You grab them, just like he did those few years ago. “You can sleep now, Feitan.”

You don’t know when, don’t know how either, but you two do end up sleeping. His eyes are closed and his breath even. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s got slight dark under eyes and his mouth leaking drool. Feitan looks peaceful, sleepy, like he hasn’t done this in a while.

The next morning, he’s gone with no evidence he was even there.

_________________

You watch on the tv screen above the bank about the attack on York New, a city not too far from you. The attack happened a few days ago but it’s still in the headlines. You don’t blame them, to be honest. It was an insane event that over two thousand people died!

You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm. He touches your hand reassuringly. His watch gleams in the moonlight and his suit is perfectly pressed. He's the entire package, he’s perfect. A good job, good manners, an honest man, and treats you well, too. He always holds the chair out for you and gets up when you leave the room. Just like a true gentleman.

When you first met, it was a classic coffee shop romance. Then it blossomed into a romantic and expensive dinner, the movies, a nighttime walk in the park, all of the classic dates. In every single one of them he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect man. You like him and how he treats you. How consistent he is. He's the type of man you can rely on.

Nevertheless, there is a bothersome voice in the back of your head that reminds you of someone he just isn’t. He’s not Feitan Portor. You don’t feel the contentment Feitan gives when the two of you sleep. You don’t study your boyfriend’s features like you did Feitan.

Dammit, why are you thinking of him? He’s not around and you haven’t seen him in what? Two or three years? So why think of him now. Plus, you haven’t received a gift or a ‘hello’ from him. For all you know, he could be dead.

“Are you alright?” You wake from your thoughts and look at your boyfriend. His hair is dark, blending in with the night. Eyes kind and green, a Grecian nose, and average sized lips revealing a dazzling smile. Not only is the very essence of him suave, but his looks are also perfect. Tall and handsome, well dressed and a smooth voice.

It's just that one five foot one pest that won’t get out of your head.

“Y-yeah just��it’s all so shocking. York New is literally over there.” You point past the river where more tall buildings reside in the distance.

“I know, I know.” He brings you in close to him. He places a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.”

Suddenly, the newscaster stops mid sentence and gasps. Before you know it, the Phantom Troupe have been named the offenders that caused all of this. Two thousand people. Feitan, did you really kill that many people?

“I would like to go home. I don’t feel the greatest.” He rubs your arm, you still being tucked into his side. Your excuse was a lie to cover the gnawing feeling towards Feitan and his deeds. Although the Phantom Troupe’s original intentions were from a decent stand point, it seems they’ve lost their way. Feitan has lost his way.

The gifts have stopped coming, him no longer saying hello. After the last time, when you made him familiar food and sat in a comfortable silence, he disappeared. This time, there was something about it that hurt. Like he didn’t want to come around. He didn’t want to say hello anymore. Or perhaps, he died which if confirmed, you would ache beyond help.

“The Phantom Troupe is dead.” The newscaster said. The crowd gasped, shocked that the most feared criminals in the world are gone. Did you jinx it? Curse the little boy who needed you to tie his shoes. The boy who liked your cooking and made sure you rested. Had strong faith in you, never doubting. Protected you from the shadows and held your hand.

Is he really gone?

You hide your face in your boyfriend’s jacket. Tears stream from your eyes at the thought of his grave. With the Troupe, his friends dead, you’d be the only one to truly mourn him. To remember his name beyond his violence.

You clutch your chest. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?” He grabs you by your shoulders, making you face him. He’s such a kind, decent man. But he’s not Feitan Portor.

“I just need to rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You give him a chaste kiss goodbye. Once he leaves, your chest hurts even more. You slide down as you look around at all the menace’s little gifts. The painting, the skull, the windchimes, everything he’s given you. Why, oh why, couldn’t you stay here long enough for your gift, Feitan?

Wait, what could you have given him anyway? He’s a thief that takes what he pleases and has nothing to wish for.

You lay on your couch and put your arm over your face. The tears refuse to stop for even just a second. You don’t know what you’re crying harder for. Feitan or the confusing feelings for him. Now that he’s gone, you can’t properly tell him. How can you explain it?

It’s heavy on your chest and tightens it. You want to feel his body heat no matter how hot the day is. There are no small flutters in your stomach at the thought of him. No, it's something in your heart. You want to stare at him, to memorize every feature he has. To hear his soft voice that is just a centimeter away from a whisper. Just melt in his touch, his presence. Wait, why is this happening? You barely knew him! Does that fact even matter though?

You slip your hand in your underwear, still staring at the ceiling, sniffling at the news of his death. You imagine the future. Seeing him walk into your house and setting his belongings on the table. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing your back. No matter how long you’ve known him, his stature never fails to amuse you. He’d paw at your body, tearing off your clothes. Feitan wouldn’t hesitate to use his hands for your pleasure.

You trace your fingers in the direction you think he’d go. Curling your fingers inside, thrusting them in harshly, knowing that he can only be gentle in his own way. Your back arches from the couch. You swear you can smell him and the faint metallic scent that he holds. The feeling of his ragged breath on your cheek you could swear is real.

You moan as you take that jump you’ve searched for. Thinking of how good Feitan would make you feel. You're relentless on yourself, still going as strong as he’d be. Adding another finger, going faster and faster on your clit. Your moaning gets louder as the indiscernible amount of time goes on.

‘ The Phantom Troupe is dead.’

You crash on the couch with one last gasp. The dream of the two of you ends in flames. The house, the passion, the years that go by in that home. Maybe even a child or two. Seeing him in the morning with a groggy voice is gone. Rubbing his eyes and saying he wants more eggs and tomatoes is no longer there.

What would your gift be to Feitan? Memories? Sex? Food? Nothing fits. He can have those with anyone.

You slip yourself out from your underwear. It didn’t distract you. Perhaps if you thought of your boyfriend, it would have. But the feelings you have towards Feitan went beyond physical. What is this? What do you call this?

Love? Time stops at the realization. It has to be that. That would have been your gift to him. Love. You cover your mouth as you admit it to yourself.

'I love you Feitan Portor. I won’t forget you. I love your messed up hair and soft voice. For how you didn’t reject me when the world did. I will do the same for you. I’ll look past your torturous ways and miss you anyway. Maybe the world will curse you, but I’ll mourn you. Bury you so no one can spit on you anymore. I love you Feitan.

I’m in love with you Feitan Portor. This is my gift to you. For you to know that you will not be forgotten even though I never got to tell you, to thank you for everything. For leaving the baseball bat with me to protect myself. For painting that picture for me. All of the little gifts you thought I’d like, too. Thank you for protecting me from the priest and the wolves that hunted me every day when we were young.'

You stare at the ceiling till the earliest of mornings. It’s still dark, still heavy with the night sky. There’s some rumbling in the distance, a flash of light in the sky. You don’t bother to confirm anything.

Just as you close your eyes, the window opens with a creak. You move your eyes to see the figure before you. The darkness covers it, only leaving the silhouette. “Why cry?”

You squint, trying to make out the features. “Are you real?”

“Very.” It must be a lie. A cruel humor the world has. “Stop crying.”

“I can’t. Not when you sound like him.” The figure cocks his head, that much you can see with the flash of lightning behind him. “Him?”

“Someone who can’t tie his shoes.” Your lip wobbles again. “I can tie them now.” The moon glows enough to show his face now as he steps up to you. Feitan’s delicate features peek out from his cowl.

You shake your head in denial. “It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re dead, Fei.” Your voice is hoarse from your sobs.

He looks shocked at your words. The man who looks like Feitan smacks your feet off the end of the couch so he can sit.

“I’ll miss you Feitan Portor.” The longer you stare at the imaginary man, the more you hurt. “Well, stop.”

He roughly wipes away the tears. “Ugly when you cry.” His face is close to yours. Since he’ll be gone by the time you come to your senses, you grab his face and kiss him. He sharply inhales, not expecting your sudden decision.

He growls against your lips, “Stupid brat.”

He feels real. He smells real, familiar too. You tell him such and with furrowed brows and a strong grip of his hand, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. “I’m real, you idiot.”

“They said you died…” You comb his hair through your fingers. It’s real, he's real . So, what’s going on? Before you can ask him, he cradles you. “Stop crying or I’ll go.”

Your lips wobble at his threat. Rather than listening to it, you hug him. He nestles on top of you, hips placed between yours. He’s light, lighter than you thought so it isn’t a bother.

“You’re so ugly when you cry. Don’t cry.” He holds you closer and kisses your head. Against your ear, you feel his lips move. You can’t tell what he’s mouthing. When the two of you comfortably slept those years ago, that was the closest you’ve been. Now, this beats that record. Face to face, body to body, and sharing breaths.

After a few moments of thunder and lightning, he kisses you gently. Not at all like the desperate one like before. Realistically, you know these feelings you have for him seem fake. You’ve only had a few moments with him. So, why are they so significant? Are they with him too? Is it possible that love can blossom quickly?

Gentle kisses turn passionate, never wanting to separate. Little nibbles on the right places and sucks on all of the best ones. Clothes leave, not wanting to get between the two friends, those who dance around each other. For the first time, they meet.

His hands reach your throat as he kisses you, making sure to give it a light squeeze. His weight is still on you, not hurting in the slightest. Feitan makes sure his hand reaches below and swirls his thumb on your bud. You gasp, surprised you were right about how he’d do it. Every ministration he does is exactly how it was pictured. Your hands don’t compare to it. Not by a long shot.

Despite his size, his hands are still bigger than yours. They reach deeper than you and are thicker too. In no time, you come, the bliss lasting a good minute before he sheathes himself inside. His thickness is more than you thought. It’s a bit of a stretch, but in a good way.

His gasps quicken with every thrust. You can tell that you're being loud, way louder than when you touched yourself. Feeling the rush and strength of his movements has you claw his back in ecstasy. He groans at the sensation. Finally, after this time of passion and intimacy, you both hold each other as you fall off of that cliff.

Feitan looks into your eyes. With a softness that no one in the world could’ve predicted the torturer of the Phantom Troupe to have, kisses you. “Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry.”

“It’s hard not to when I know you’ll leave.” Silently, Feitan removes himself from inside you. It’s become routine, so you expect him to walk out. He lays back down, his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut.

You wake up, not realizing that you went asleep in the first place. Before you can get up, you feel pressure on your stomach. Feitan rests on you still, eyes completely closed and his face peaceful. The two of you are naked and the only source of heat is each other. As much as you want to wrap your arms around him, you know he’ll react negatively or at least flinch.

Soon after, he stretches and rubs his face against your stomach. Like before, he drooled in his sleep. “Good morning.”

He grunts in response and sits up on his heels. It takes him a moment to remember the night before. His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, making you highly aware of your current state. You cover yourself with a blanket draped over the couch.

“I have to go.” Ah, right. He’s a cat.

He gets dressed. Once he has his boots on, you see him tie them the way you taught him. “Proud of you. You finally learned huh?”

“Brat.” You laugh a little at him. Once he’s done you ask, “Will I ever see you again?"

He cradles your face. “I come back.” You nod, holding back tears. He studies your face and settles on your eyes. He must have realized that you were trying not to cry. His hands still remain on your face as he kisses you. He lingers there for a minute. A parting kiss, a meaningful one.

Something tells you that this feral cat isn’t going away anytime soon. That he’ll always be constant and you won’t be totally alone. A companion you won’t see everyday and only for a night.

This is the gift you’ll give him. You’ll be home for him.

___________________

Months later, news about the Chimera Ants came out. You had already broken up with your boyfriend and heard he had left town to avoid them. Of course, you followed suit and got the hell out of there.

Without any plan, you moved back to Meteor City, where you thought that they wouldn’t be. Alas, that was stupid. You made a home base in the residential area. Not knowing that Meteor City was plagued by the wretched beasts.

By God’s grace, you managed to avoid them due to you being in the residential district. News that the Phantom Troupe were home to fight them ran rampant. The thought of Feitan made you nervous and you don’t know why.

Suddenly, right as you put away your dishes, the door opened. You grabbed a knife and faced the intruder. Standing there was the Phantom Troupe, who once again, barged into your home like they owned the place.

“What the hell?” You shout. The first one is Phinks with a wide smile. “There she is! Fei, I found her!”

You put your hand on your hip. “Seriously, what are you doing her-you’re dragging in mud, take off your shoes!”

“It’s only a little.” Phinks pouts. “I don’t care! You don’t live here.”

Phinks and his friends grumble as they do as they’re told. The last one to enter the house is Feitan, who is notably holding his left arm. Without being told, he removes his shoes.

“Feitan…” He hasn’t faced you yet. “What happened to your arm?”

“I’m injured too, (Y/n)!” The smiling boy with round eyes whines. You have no idea what his name is. Only that he and the rest are in Feitan’s gang.

“Alright, let me see.” He lays down on your clean table and says, “It’s all over. I need the full treatment!”

“Ugh, fine.” You grumble under your breath about the disrespect and your poor table. Finally, Feitan sits on one of the pushed aside chairs. He says, “I need it too.”

“Big babies.”

You heal the biggest cry baby completely. The blond, whose name you now know as Shalnark, stretches. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been hurting all day!”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Feitan who has been silent. He holds out his arm for you. You take the limb and inspect it.

“Completely shattered.” He grunts in agreement. He stares into your eyes and gives you a familiar slight smile. You notice that his friends are quiet, not a sound or word among them.

“You guys alright?” You ask. The girl shakes her head yes and ‘whispers’ to the rest. “Should we leave them alone?”

“Probably.” A mummy with boxing gloves answers. You’ve never seen him before in your life.

“Uh, we’ll check the place out. Y’know, make sure it’s safe.” Shalnark shoos the little kid out and into a separate room, your bedroom. “We’ll clear this out in case you guys need it!”

You huff and roll your eyes. Feitan’s cheeks are red and he’s glaring daggers at his friends. The girl goes outside with the remaining three to check the area. You and your feral cat are alone.

“What are they checking for? I’m in a residential area.”

“Ants.”

“They’re here? In the safe zone?” You begin to panic until he grabs your hand. “You’re safe now. They’re not in the city anymore.”

“Wha-how? What’s going on?”

He pinches you lightly, encouraging you to heal his wounds. “Oh, right, right.” Flowers of all colors circle around. They begin to smooth over Feitan’s wounds. You take a second to wipe the blood off of his lip, letting there be some room for the petals to go.

“How’s the other guy look?”

“She's toasted.” You smile. “Atta boy.”

He’s healed, the petals and flowers disappear. You lick your lips at the sight of his bare chest. You didn’t notice before due to the audacity of these heathens barging in.

His heart rate quickens. “You leave again.”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I had to, Fei. the Chimera Ants invaded. I had to run.”

“With your boyfriend?”

You let out a small gasp. “ No. How do you know that?” He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just never said anything.”

“Words of a liar.” You scoff at him. “I did not lie to you. I lied to him. You don’t have any business with our relationship.”

At first, he was looking at his lap. Those grey eyes of his immediately found a new target to glare at. “You’re not with him anymore. ”

“No. Why does that matter?” He begins to tap his foot lightly. “Why did you break up?”

“You hungry?” You start to get up until you’re tugged down. “Why?”

When you don’t answer, he whispers in your ear. “Because I fucked you?” Your face is so warm.

“If we run, we can still make it out.”

“Why are we running?” A small voice asks.

“Because I think they need the room.”

“Will you two shut up?!” You are two seconds away from running out of your own damn house. You stand and his hands hold you by your hips. “Tell me why you leave him?”

“Because of you.” It’s embarrassing to tell him your feelings. Hopefully, he can read your mind or something and shut up. He sighs and stands, walking over to you without a hitch. He kisses you.

“That’s what you get for lying.” He’s not remorseful or even boastful. Feitan takes your answer in stride. “No more leaving. Stay so I can find you.”

“You’ll always find me, remember?”

______________

Time after that, you were stuck in charge of Chrollo’s lover or something. She’s not too bad but clearly traumatized. Anytime you’d tell her to go with you, she’d look shocked. Like she was surprised she could leave. You were suspicious of her relationship with Chrollo. Something didn’t sit right with you whenever he or Feitan came up. She’d tense up. She never talked about it either. From what you understand with the little information you have, is that she was a former member that raised an orphan and that Chrollo loved her immensely. Perhaps too much.

From what you know, there was a big showdown on the Dark Continent and the boat that was taking a voyage to the fake one. The Phantom Troupe were on that one at first, fighting Hisoka Marrow. He was a sore loser that got humbled and decided to attack again.

Amazingly, only a few died. You didn’t want to know the details or anything. You can’t go through that again. So, after that news, you and Chrollo’s lover parted ways. She went on to find a kid she raised. You, on the other hand, decided to settle out of Meteor City. This was almost a year ago.

You have an apartment now in the town where you and your boyfriend lived, right next to York New. It’s basic, not fitting any aesthetic or anything. The good thing about it is that it’s bigger than your first one. It’s two bedroom and has a good price.

Feitan hasn’t reappeared. It tore you to shreds. You’ve managed to piece yourself together bit by bit, but you are a hollow version of yourself. Surviving and not enjoying the little things you used to. You even saw Jade, Scarlet, Ruby, and the new child, Emerald. Even that heartwarming moment didn’t fulfill you. However, it was the first time you smiled in a while.

You stir the food in the pot. Since it’s a little chilly, you made soup. You put the lid over the pot, letting it cook. There’s a knock on the door. You open it and see the man you’ve waited for.

Feitan is in dark clothing and has a large scar on his face. There’s no cowl over him, or a large trench coat. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at you expectantly. You realize that you’ve just been standing there, you move to let him in. Once again, he makes himself at home.

“How’ve you been?”

“You leave again.” He states bluntly. His eyebrows are furrowed and has a frown on his face.

“Bold of you, very bold.” You move around him. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’d never stay in that city forever. The Ants were gone, the world settled. So why couldn’t I? That place is gross anyway.”

He sits on the barstool and cracks his neck. You ask a question right after he sits. “How long you here for?”

You don’t know why you asked that. He’ll only be here for a moment. A while ago, you had made the decision to accept it as your gift to him. To love and mourn him when the world won’t. When news about the Phantom Troupe hit, you couldn’t bear to hear it. Their trip to the fake Dark Continent, then their corrected course to the right one, ended in a battle with them facing Hisoka and Illumi and everything else over there.

It was too hard for you to think about. That doesn’t mean you didn’t mourn and that you’ve snapped out of it.

“For good.”

You look up into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he’s smiling with soft eyes. You see that he has a dimple on his left cheek. “W-what about-”

“Done for a while. Maybe forever. I know I’m staying.”

“But your friends, where are they?” He shrugs even though you see the tension. “Separate. We split for a bit.”

He rubs his shoulders nervously. “Can I stay with you?”

“Wow, you’re asking? Shocked.” You tap on the counter. The weight you’ve been carrying is lightened. “Feitan?”

“Yes?” He gets off of the stool and makes his way around the counter. “You know how you give me all those gifts?”

He nods his head. “Well, this is my gift to you, Feitan Portor. You can stay as long as you like.”

He wraps his arms around you. He’s hugging you. This time, you aren’t afraid to hold him back and squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, this is what home is?

If the Phantom Troupe resurrects, at least you know he’ll always come home. That you two will be a constant force for each other. No matter if it does or doesn't, you two aren't dancing but admitting things you couldn't. This is home, a gift for each other.

#feitan portor #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #hxh #hxh fanfic #slight yandere #q #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh feitan #idk what to put here rn

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