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milkywayhou · 28 days

Text

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART III

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

Snow now overthinking about how fucked up her situation can be

TWs: Slow burn (not really), Implies stalking behavior. I just wrote this for fun.

Words Count: 1.9k (The email contain 1.3+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 01:38 am

Subject: A late night conspiracy ramble…

Hey!

Once again it’s a late night and these weary med student brain cells are firing off all kinds of…interesting theories and connections, to say the least.

For example, okay hear me out, but what if Big Pharma is actually run by ancient shape-shifting lizard people from the center of the hollow earth who feed on human adrenal gland fluid harvested during rituals conducted at Bohemian Grove, and they started the pharmaceutical industry just to get us all addicted to medication so we’re docile little cash cows?!

I know, I know, it’s utterly ridiculous…buuuuut it would explain a few things haha! Anyways, somehow my winding thought process led me back to pondering your own doubtless intriguing backstory, oh mysterious Colonel.

You’ve given mysterious snippets here and there, but never a straight history lesson, you sly dog. Care to unravel some of those shadows for this thirsty student? Like how’d you get into this line of work anyway?

Maybe share something to take my mind off lizard people conspiracies before this insomnia kills me. You’ve got me curious now!

Conspiracizing but also bedridden,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:01 am

Subject: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

You’ve a vivid imagination, to be sure. As for my own history…it’s nothing so fanciful, I’m afraid.

I grew up isolated, with only books as company. Social skills proved…challenging. The bullying was constant. All I wanted was to disappear into the quiet of nature, far from the incessant noise inside my head.

By 17 I was desperate to escape, and the military offered just that. I dreamed of being a sniper – controlling chaos from afar through calm precision. But my frame and restlessness didn’t suit remaining still for long. They saw potential elsewhere. They assigned as an insertion specialist instead. It was difficult, but taught discipline. In time I learned to turn noise into focus, chaos into strategy.

Now I protect others as I wished to be protected then. It brings…solace, of a kind. Purpose, where once was only turmoil.

Get some rest, Snow. Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:14 am

Subject: RE: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

I see.

Thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine how difficult those experiences must have been, but I’m grateful you found your calling in spite of them. It takes real strength of character to turn trauma into purpose like that.

Also, I should say the bullying says far more about their weakness of spirit than anything about you. Their loss, as it brought you to where you’re meant to be – helping people in your own way. I can’t help but smile thinking of a tiny bookworm König dreaming of sniping lizards in the woods! Well, you may not be in the trees anymore but it seems your aim is truer than ever.

Thinking on childhoods, mine wasn’t all sunshine either as an awkward kid. Let’s just say blending in was…challenging, to put it lightly. Between moving a lot after my parents split and living with various relatives, school was an escape into study. Seemed the safest route to gain some footing and make the family proud, at least. Kept me busy avoiding the realities outside books for a while too, I suppose. Somehow I suspect lonely bookworm me and you may have gotten along splendidly if our paths crossed back then!

Anyways, not sure where I’m going with this aside from reflecting our younger selves may have found solace in one another, strange as that sounds now in these roles. At least we’ve come into our own in the end, in our own ways. Small favors and all that.

Just a light note before sleep – rest well, König!

Your friend,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:27 pm

Subject: Essay Woes and Cadaver Flashbacks

Ugh,

My apologies for this incoherent word vomit you’re about to endure. I’m approximately 5-7 days into an all-nighter essay crunch and my last two brain cells are DANCING.

This final assignment is killing me dead but at least after it’s over I can finally be done with med school! *insert jubilant celebration emoji* Of course that’s if I don’t starve to death first living off instant ramen. I’m positively wasting away without a decent meal. At this rate they’ll be teaching anatomy lectures using my lifeless body.

Whoever invents a magic food delivery service that beams freshly cooked meals directly to overworked students is getting a freaking Nobel Prize. A girl can dream, right? At this point I’d kill a man for a good pizza. *hideshypotheticalmurderweaponbehindback*

Anyways, in my spiral of delirium my thoughts keep wandering back to that fateful day months ago when I randomly received your classified KorTac email out of nowhere. Still bewildered how you even had my address to begin with…were you watching me, Colonel? *pretends to be frightened but is secretlyflattered*

Getting that file was kinda scary at first, not gonna lie. Reminded me of the first time we received our cadavers – that creepy feeling of being watched even after leaving the lab. Is that what it’s like being you, always paranoid someone has intel on you? :)

Anyways, enough gibbering – just wanted to share my pain and also wonder again how our wacky email friendship began! Stay safe out there in whatever shady places your work takes you. And send help – I mean, good luck with all the classified stuff!

Tired and Hangry,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:40 pm

Subject: WHAT DID YOU DO

KÖNIG I SWEAR TO GOD

I LITERALLY JUST GOT A DELIVERY AT MY DOOR. IT WAS PIZZA AND IT WAS ALREADY PAID FOR

DUDE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HACK INTO MY LOCATION OR SOME SHIT. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE??

I’M FREAKING OUT A LITTLE NOT GONNA LIE. I KNOW YOU HAVE ACCESS TO SHADY TECH BUT PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T TRACK ME DOWN

I was joking in my last email! Sort of! Please say this was all just a coincidence. I don’t need some extra secret stalker on top of everything else ;____;

Explain yourself soldier man!!! My paranoia can only be quelled with answers.

Sending mildly panicked regards,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:12 pm

Subject: RE: WHAT DID YOU DO

Snow,

I assure you, any capabilities related to surveillance are reserved strictly for operations.

As for your delivery, consider it a small kindness from one overworked soul to another. Now eat, regain strength, and get back to that essay. You’ve proven quite resourceful in pulling secrets from shadows. But some mysteries deserve to remain.

Worry not and carry on with your studies.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:25 pm

Subject: Spill. Everything. Now.

I appreciate the pizza bailout, don’t get me wrong. But my paranoia has now reached DEFCON 1 levels and it WILL NOT stand down until I get some answers. So spill. Just how much do you actually know about me? Do you have my address on file somewhere? Photos? Socials? Pet peeves? Middle name??

I understand need-to-know for operations, but this is need-to-know for my own peace of mind. Please assuage these frazzled med student nerves and assure me you’re not some mysterious stalker Colonel (unless that’s just part of your charm). I’ll even send new Luna's pics in return! Consider it a debriefing – you give, you get. Otherwise the wheels will keep spinning in my head…

Sincerely (and only mildly obsessively),

Snow

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>>Anonymous

05/29/23(Mon)22:37:10 No:132926391

Colonel Stalker Dude is freaking me out

Image: [Confused pepe scratching head.jpg 230kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a totally tired out and broke student

>Remember getting those shady files months ago

>Thought Colonel dude was cool and weird pen pal

>Even started to like him after long talks

>But NOW he knows my address???

>WTF how long has he been watching me

>On one hand it’s creepy AF but kinda flattering a high rank dude cares

>Other hand I don't want a secret stalker or to get disappeared

>Free food is nice but feeling stalked is not cash money

>Used to have bit of crush but now I'm skeeved TBH

>What do? Can't go to cops cuz questions. No close friends/fam

>Too broke to move or change info

>Maybe he’s just lonely but also maybe he climbs in my window ;____;

>What if he takes my organs in the night like some human harvester?!

>Only protection is my cat Luna and she's useless in a fight ;_;

>Try to be positive and asking him how much he know

>Currently waiting for his replied while I was writing this post

>Anons pls help, should I keep talking to possible stalker man?

Don’t want my organs harvested but also don’t wanna waste a free food connection

Very conflicted and slightly paranoid this girl is in DIRE need of advice

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)22:45:19 No:132926405: >>132926391(OP)#

Sounds like a thriller romance novel lol! He probs just cares in his own intense way. Keep talking but be safe, maybe feel him out more? Could be nnothing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:16:08 No:132926439: >>132926405#

IKR it does sound like a book! But what if it’s a prequel to a snuff film?! I’ll try to subtly find out wtf he knows without pissing him off…

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:37:12 No:132926502: >>132926391(OP)#

LOL girl chill no one climbin in ur windows. He prolly just admires ur spirit. Keep lines of comms open, set boundaries if needed but relax!

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:45:01 No:13292623: >>132926502#

You’re right, I do overthink! I’ll calm my farm. Thank u stranger, maybe he’s just a bored soldier man and not a psycho (´。＿。｀)

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:25:31 No:13292684: >>132926391(OP)#

Change ur info anyway, maybe he won’t go to ur new stuff. And get some locks/alarms jfc. Play it safe.

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:42:44 No:13292692: >>13292684#

Can’t change anything, I used my student email! And too broke for moves or upgrades, these loans gotta last :’( but self defense is a must, thanks!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:28:19 No:132922735: >>132926391(OP)#

Send Luna pics. Also tell col u feel weird, set ground rules like no stalking. Maybe he just wants friendship. Be safe!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:46:31 No:132922757: >>132922735#

[sleepy_Luna.jpg 1,3mb 1000x1000] You’re so right, communication is key. I’ll lay it all out clearly and see how it goes. Thx fren <3

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:59:36 No:132922805: >>132926391(OP)#

Maybe he liiiiikes you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) whatever happens keep us posted! We’re invested now lol

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:08:55 No:132922822: >>132922805#

omggg don't say that!! Now I'll be paranoid AND flustered X_X But I definitely will update y'all, this is quite the melodrama unfolding

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:15:36 No:132922811: >>132926391(OP)#

Girlll tell that stalker if he wants a piece he gonna have to pay your tuition first! Then maybe you’ll reconsider the organ harvesting. Gotta respect your worth sis 💅

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:23:12 No:132922834: >>132922811#

Omg you genius!!! If he’s really interested he can sponsor my broke ass med student life lol. Alleviate my debt and he gets unlimited Luna pics, win-win!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:01:46 No:132922839: >>132926391(OP)#

Lmao girl you been reading too many thrillers! Military guys have ways of finding people, changing email won’t do shit. Just ask him wtf is up like a normal person

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:39:44 No:132922926: >>132922839#

Ugh you make a good point, confronting is smarter than hiding. But what if he locks me in a dungeon for being nosy?! I have no one to turn to if I disappear ;-;

------

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/30/24 at 03:45am

Subject: RE: Spill. Everything. Now.

Snow,

Let’s just say I know more than you think. But rest assured, your privacy and safety remain my priority here.

As for debriefs, some questions are best left unanswered, even between…friends. Maintaining mystique has its place too, no?

Focus on your studies. I’ll focus on ensuring no more interruptions are needed.

Now get some rest. You’ve an early lab tomorrow if I’m not mistaken.

Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/30/23 at 03:47am

Subject: DUDE.

HOW.

----

This one was short because I've been busy with other stuff hahah. It sure took some twisted turn hmmM? or maybe poor Snow just over reacted ;)

Also love, comment and reblogged are really appreciate! 💖

#könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x oc #könig #cod oc #cod x oc #konig call of duty #cod fic #cod mw2

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honeybleed · 1 year

Text

a week away ⋆ kishibe rohan

part two

synopsis: some bizarre going ons whilst rohan navigates his complicated feelings about you on a trip he was vehemently against in the first place.

content & warnings: fem!reader, canon-verse, reader is an editor for shueisha, set around thus spoke kishibe rohan (2006) so rohan is twenty seven but please pretend he still has his house and isn’t shacked up with koichi 😭, reader insert but there are some ocs, unhealthy relationship dynamics, miscommunication, sort of love triangle, emotionally constipated dumbasses, jealous & possessive rohan, reader comes across a bit erratic and self deprecating, angst, smut so mdni but half baked as hell

author’s note: i really be writing for the strangest of characters.. but idk i have severe rohan brainrot and all the edits of him in eyes of heaven and all star battle make me feel a type of way

word count: 6.3k

"Come on Rohan...it'll be fun." You said for the dozenth time as you trailed after him in the longwinded hallways of his grand property.

You tried your best to coax him into somehow complying with the trip.

But after working with the arrogant manga author for all these months, you knew it'd be useless unless you dropped the bomb.

He pretended as if he couldn't hear you, then stood over his desk. Your staring at him caused him to groan and roll his eyes.

"Why would I bother with such frivolous affairs? I have things of great importance to otherwise attend to." He said, not even bothering to look at you as he was sorting through sketches.

"Okay, so you don't like those other authors-"

"It's not that I don't like them, they're simply not on my level." He interjected.

"Fine, they're not on your level. But how could you even come to that conclusion? You barely even speak to other authors."

"I don't need to speak to them to know they're not on my level."

You balled your fist behind your back and dug your nails into your palm.

"Rohan." You said, calmly. "I'm invited too, y'know. If you don't want to interact with the others, why not just use this as an opportunity as vacation time for the two of us?"

He slowly raised his head to meet your eyes and you tried to give him a teasing smile but you could feel humiliation seeping in when he simply stared at you as if you had lost your mind.

He pursed his lips, then took several strides away from the desk and stood right in front of you. You felt yourself shrinking away from his intimidating stature with those stormy eyes.

"So...all of this mundane pleading of yours for me to attend this stupid trip was a plot to seduce me?" He spat as he glared at you.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

To say Rohan was a flip-flop would be the understatement of a century. The man was a rollercoaster.

There were days when he was responsive in his peculiar way, like the evening of a Shueisha company party, he gifted you a hair slide, adorned with crystals and opal stones.

At first, you thought it was a regular one.

You were grateful all the same, but when you showed your friend and later got it appraised, the fact that Rohan had dropped serious cash on the gift made your jaw hang.

Another time, when you mentioned a specific tea that you liked very much but struggled with because it never seemed to be in any of the stores when you visited Morioh.

There was soon an endless stock of the boxes in his kitchen cupboards despite your trips to his home not being that frequent.

All the considerate actions of Rohan made your heart leap to your throat, but he swore he wasn't doing it to impress you.

But regardless, you reciprocated the affection whenever he was willing to receive it. Be it a peck on the cheek, a chaste kiss on his lips before you bounded off with his latest manuscript or lacing your fingers with his.

Those happened once in a blue moon.

Because the rest of the time, he'd sternly give you whatever you needed to send over to the office and usher you out of his house.

What spurred that attitude was your criticisms of whatever he had drafted, which he didn't take kindly to.

You'd never let any man treat you in that manner but you told yourself Kishibe Rohan wasn't just any regular man.

It's not as if you had a lack of self-respect, getting a glimmer of romance and affection from Rohan felt like a reward after being challenged for so long.

It was a lot more interesting in the landscape of mind-numbingly boring dating in your twenties. You'd take the sparring off with Rohan over any boring first-date convos.

You sighed.

"You're right, silly me. But now, you've pushed me, the higher-ups are saying attendance is mandatory otherwise there will be serious consequences."

"What, they'd drop the great Kishibe Rohan for not turning up to this nonsense?!" He exclaimed eyebrows knitted together in shock as he blinked rapidly.

You took a deep breath. Yep, now it was time for you to play dirty.

"You know, Rohan. You used to be Shueisha's favourite. You were their golden boy, their resident moneymaker. But that was...hm...seven, six years ago?" You began as you drummed your fingers against his desk.

He pressed his lips in a thin line as he narrowed his eyes.

"What are you getting at?" He questioned, voice laced with scepticism.

"Some would say...you're past your prime. The numbers don't lie. However, the company is extending you courtesy that a lot of its authors haven't experienced. Would it be wise of you to bite the hand that feeds you?" You stated as you tilted your head.

"You know I could care less about money." He sneered.

"Ah but money plays a big part, doesn't it Rohan? I would've thought you outgrew the naive artist mentality."

You don't feel as guilty as you used to when you started the underhanded tactic of emotional manipulation with Rohan.

In an ideal world, he'd do what he was told but it almost seemed as if he got off on making things hard.

So the only thing you could do was make jabs at the only thing he cared about in this world.

His work.

You were met with silence.

"Curses." He finally muttered.

"Lighten up, I thought you liked to travel? You can use this trip as a chance for more material for Pink Dark Boyyyy~." You singsonged.

He called out your name as he followed you to close his front door.

"Yeah?"

"Next time you come to my property to insinuate I'm washed up, don't wear something as hideous as paisley print. It's autumn, for goodness sake." He spat as he slammed the door in your face.

You rolled your eyes.

"Diva." You muttered under your breath.

Later that evening, after leaving Rohan's place you met up with your best friend.

"Remind me, why do you even have feelings for that pretentious asshole?" Your friend, Mina said as the two of you sat at the bar.

"Dunno..." You said, a little giggly from all the shots you downed. you rested your face onto your hand. "There's just something really special about him. He's not like-"

"He's a nutjob and so are you." She sighed. "And drunk. Let me get a cab before you throw up all over me."

And with that, she headed over towards the phone booth. You picked your head up from resting as you noticed a familiar face ordering a drink.

"... Ryosuke?" You said aloud.

"Y/N, is that you?" He responded, equally as shocked.

Tsuchiya Ryosuke was another manga author, his series Soul Moon was probably one of the only mangas close to rivalling Pink Dark Boy.

Honestly, you loved Soul Moon more than Pink Dark Boy.

You found Ryosuke's artistic skills breathtaking. It also didn't help how swoon-worthy the romance factor in the series was despite being a shonen.

Whilst Rohan was ever so trendy and fashionable with an androgynous-like beauty, Ryosuke looked like an ordinary salary man. Handsome, nonetheless.

With his shaggy chestnut hair and the bridge of his glasses that were bandaged, he was extremely tall but slim.

He seemed to have a soft spot for you, you just weren't interested, as bad as you felt.

"Yup! I didn't know you were in Morioh! It's so nice to see you." You gushed, over-friendly from the alcohol.

"Well the port is in Morioh so I figured I'd spend a night at the hotel rather than travelling all the way from Tokyo in the morning." He chuckled. "I know better than to ask you what you're doing in town since I know you were given the misfortune of shadowing Kishibe."

Ryosuke and Rohan loathed each other.

It was whispered amongst fans of comic books ever since Rohan had dubbed Soul Moon cheesy and having the substance of wet cardboard.

Which Ryosuke countered with a scathing review, accusing Pink Dark Boy of being past its prime and pretentious.

You waved a hand.

"Rohan's not that bad," You responded, causing Ryosuke to quirk a brow.

It was a well-known fact amongst everybody at Shueisha that Rohan was unbearable.

"...Weeeeelll." You drawled out. "He can be kinda sweet when he wants to. Which is a very small percentage. I'm holdin' out since I'm grateful to even work with you guys."

"Don't say that, Y/N! You're a great editor. You got this job with your hard work, so don't undermine your accomplishments." Ryosuke reassured.

"Cab is in ten min-" Mina paused when she saw Ryosuke standing near the bar stool she was sat on before. "I don't believe we've met before?"

"Oh, Mina this is Ryosuke. He's a manga author too."

"I should've introduced myself first, apologies." He said.

"You guys are cute, fussing over manners." you giggled as you stretched your arms across the bar, then attempted to slide off the stool that they both rushed to steady you.

"Easy there...!" Ryosuke said, a little panicked.

"Sorry, she doesn't know how to handle alcohol." Mina sighed.

"I do too...!" You protested.

You and Rohan stared at the arrangement. You were slightly irritated with yourself because you remember booking two suites. Hell, you paid the price for it too.

But you were told by the receptionist you had managed to put both your names in the same suite.

One room had a large emperor bed, the other had a single bed. You felt Rohan's eyes burn lasers into the back of your head. You knew he was not sacrificing the large bed, whatsoever.

"Why do you get dibs on that bed?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Because I booked the suite-"

"And you did a terrible job." He interjected. "The least you can do is reimburse me by giving me the bed I deserve."

You pulled a face. Conversations with Rohan often felt like something out of a simulation.

"And reimburse you for what, pray tell? You didn't spend a dime, it came out of my pocket."

He let out a snort and shook his head as he said your name.

"What?" You snapped.

"My time and my presence are both valuable. That's what I mean by reimbursement. You are wasting two sacred things to me." He stated, hand on his hip.

"Be a man. You go on holidays all the time, I never do so I think you can handle a single bed." You hissed.

"Why should I?!" He barked. "Kishibe Rohan does not slumber on a dingy little-"

You purposely barged past him, carrying your heavy luggage to stop his rambling.

"I'm sure you can handle a week, we're barely here anyways! The itinerary was packed!"

He simply scowled at you, then begrudgingly dragged his belongings in.

Soon enough, after you'd both unpacked, you stared at your reflection in the mirror above the sink basin.

It was bold of the company to force you both on this trip. And while you were grateful for some R&R, Rohan seemed to be struggling.

You sighed. Why the hell did you feel bad over his tantrum?

He'd probably warm up soon, he liked to be in different environments so he could get up to his beloved task of observing and taking notes to sketch.

You headed out of the cabin to join the tour guide. In your peripherals, you could see Rohan setting up his belongings on the desk which was clearly meant to be a vanity desk.

Days passed.

This seemed to be a luxury cruise, every deck had any activity you'd want to do.

Stops at little port towns, late-night dinners and entertainment with jazz bands and singers.

Cooking classes, all sorts of arts and crafts, and sports.

You'd even felt new friendships blossom with the other editors and manga authors you barely talked to.

Rohan seemed to be reclusive, and you had given up on trying to get him to talk to the other authors and staff.

It would've ended up in an argument with his lack of social skills so you saved yourself the headache.

You lounged in the pool on the deck, taking in the sun.

The sun beating down on your skin and the clear, turquoise waters were simply heavenly on your sore muscles.

You suddenly felt a wave in the pool, and it was none other than Ryosuke taking a few breaststrokes towards you.

You gave him a grin and placed your sunglasses on your head.

"Hello stranger, what brings you here?" You greeted. He snatched a pool noodle to drape his arms over it and smiled at you.

"Who would turn down flirting with a gorgeous lady in a swimsuit?" he said with a grin.

"Ryosuke!" You gasped. You felt the tips of your ears heat up a little. You sloshed some water towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes were piercing at the two of you messing around in the water.

Rohan felt a pain in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. How he despised that wretched manga author.

Later that evening, you were dashing around the cabin getting dressed for tonight.

Rohan watched you, bewildered.

The woman in front of him was not the same woman who would knock at his door to pass on messages from Jump in quite possibly the most unattractive, frumpy clothes he'd seen.

He was staring at a woman adorned in a simple black dress. Yet the way it seemed to hug on the curves he didn't even know you had was almost mouth-watering.

"Are you coming, then?" You questioned as you fastened on the hoop earrings.

"... I'm going to be preoccupied translating my notes into the sketches, so no unfortunately I will not be attending," He stated.

"Jeez, Rohan! What activities have you even attended?" You said through gritted teeth.

".. I happened to have surveyed the arts and crafts and crocheting class."

"Did you even take part?!" You shot.

"Now why would I do that?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever. I'll be on the second deck if you feel like joining."

"Yes, you go and do that. Give me some peace and quiet so I can continue with my work that you've derailed enough with this ridiculous trip." He scathed.

"Only your stubborn ass would complain about a holiday of all things." You retorted. "How my heart weeps for you."

"Didn't you say you were leaving?" He snapped.

"I'm going!" You huffed.

After you left he found himself unable to concentrate.

Having an extreme lapse of attention span as he stared at the outline of the sketch in front of him, he thumped his fist onto the table.

"Damn that woman!" He thundered to himself.

Seeing her frolic in the pool with that accursed manga author Ryosuke and then having the nerve to look gorgeous when she left, his head was spinning.

He breathed through his nose and clutched his head.

It probably wouldn't hurt to take her invitation.

She was invading all aspects of his mind so maybe being with her would make it go away.

But as he stood at the entrance of the ballroom, and saw you on the dance floor, two-stepping to a slow jazz tune he felt a burning sensation in his chest.

You were giggling, your eyes were lit up and he even twirled you around.

He scoffed and marched off, as the scene was becoming too unbearable to witness anymore.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of him at the doorway. For some reason, he had his arms crossed in front of his chest and eyes narrowed directly glaring at you.

"I'm gonna head over to Rohan," You said, a little apologetically to Ryosuke, pulling out of his grasp.

You could've sworn you saw a flash of irritation overtake his features, but then a smile fixed onto his lips.

"No, sure! Go ahead."

You waved him off and began to weave through all the couples on the dance floor as you made your way towards Rohan.

As soon as he saw you approaching him, he fled the scene.

"Hey! Rohan!" You called out, following after him but he walked away fast.

"Are you ignoring me?!" You cried out, but still no response.

You stopped in your footsteps and just stared off into the hallway.

You could chase after him and confront him in your cabin but the entire interaction left you in disbelief...and hurt.

"Rohan." You said for the dozenth time that night after you returned from the ballroom.

The only sound in the cabin was a pencil scratching at a ridiculously fast speed.

"What is your problem? Why are you pretending I don't exist?!" You hissed.

The pencil paused, and Rohan turned from his seat to finally make eye contact after what seemed like hours.

His arm was on the edge of the seat. He cocked his head to the side.

"...Well?" You said, making a face.

"I wouldn't have thought you would even have noticed," He said, nonchalantly.

You could've sworn your eyes were about to bulge out of their sockets. He was just so ridiculously frustrating.

"We are sharing a cabin, Rohan. I think receiving silent treatment from somebody I'm in the same vicinity with would be blatant."

You threw your hands up in irritation.

"You know what? Fine. If this is what you want, I'll play along. Hell, I'll beat you at your own game." you spat, then slammed the bathroom door shut with such force it caused the cabin to shake.

"Drama queen." Rohan spat.

Slumped against the railings of the deck, you opened your palm.

There was Rohan's earring. He hadn't given it to you. It was way back when the early days when you first became his editor.

He'd driven you home and it had been getting quite late. It was either midnight or one in the morning.

He'd taken it off his earrings and headband and absentmindedly handed the earring to you.

You kept it around. No particular reason.

Looking at the shiny gold manga pen tip, you felt a little pathetic. There was no reason why you should be wallowing over the manga author.

Your co-worker, Izumi saw you fawning over the earring.

"Just a word of advice. Fan girls don't make it very far in this job." She had said, harshly.

You didn't take offence. Izumi was a senior at the age of twenty-five, she was clearly doing something right.

The earring from now on served as a reminder to put your admiration of Rohan's work to the side.

You were hired as an editor to thoroughly vet his work. What use would there be to hire you to kiss his ass all day?

So things changed. You still had the weird romantic moments but you had gone from viewing him as some sort of untouchable God to a colleague.

You should put on your big girl panties and just go confront him about how much of an asshole he was being, giving you the silent treatment for days now.

Your peers noticed it was making you wilt. You were in good spirits for the entirety of the trip, now you were hunched over not even bothering to greet the others.

"Enough is enough." Izumi sighed.

She was Rohan's previous editor but after a few months, she requested a move to another manga series.

She still adored Rohan but she said if she worked with him any longer she would've developed hypertension with how insufferable he was.

"What?"

"I don't know whatever happened between you two but you need to get a grip on yourself. With our schedules, holidays are scarce. Do not ruin it because of one of his little tantrums." She chastised, with her hands on her hips.

"How did you know?"

"I know him like the back of my hand. He throws a hissy fit whenever somebody he has feelings for talks to other people. Kooky, I know but there's no changing him."

You didn't respond.

Of course, Rohan had feelings for you, as much as you had feelings for him. But what the hell was the next step?

"He should say something instead of acting so hot and cold." You thundered to yourself, internally.

"Stop wasting your own time and have some fun. They're having free drinks for ladies at the bar in the ballroom tonight. Join me." Izumi said, with a smile.

After reaching the acceptance stage of being on the receiving end of Rohan's cold shoulder you were settled on the soft armchair, embroiled in a random novel you'd plucked off the shelf.

Today seemed fairly pleasant but being up so early made you look forward to winding down and sleeping.

There was an exact knock on the door, which you knew belonged to none other than Rohan who you hadn't spoken to at all, despite sharing a cabin.

"Rohan, this is your suite too." You responded, eyes still fixated on a passage.

"Well, may I come in? I was just making sure not to invade your privacy but I guess you fail to recognise basic manners." He snarked.

You rolled your eyes.

"...Just come in." You said through gritted teeth.

He shut the door behind him and remained quiet. He seemed to be waiting for you to look at him which you weren't bothered in doing.

He cleared his throat a few times to gain your attention, causing you to fold the corner of the page and shut the book, slightly agitated.

"...Yes, Rohan?" You chimed, voice laced with passive aggressiveness.

His cheeks were dusted a rosy pink and his lips were pursed together.

It seemed as if he was attempting to string a sentence together.

"You looked rather ravishing today. And the day before." He finally blurted out.

Your brows knitted together in bewilderment.

Those words coming out of his mouth were almost unheard of. Especially considering his behaviour.

"...Thank you, I guess?"

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked.

"Why would you think that?" You responded, sarcastically.

"You've been...cold to me." He replied, not catching on.

"Oh Rohan, I'm simply playing the game YOU started." You said as you made your way towards him and patted his shoulder.

Rohan was furious with himself.

Namely, because you were undermining him and he was getting ridiculously turned on at your words and demeanour.

You weren't the same timid assistant from Shueisha with the ugly oversized jumpers.

"Now...is that all? Or are you going to start getting ready for bed?"

"Don't talk to me like that..!" He cried out. "I hate how you made me feel these past few days. I felt like a kicked puppy vying for its owners' attention watching you talk to that sorry excuse of a mangaka."

"... Ryosuke? Jeez, Rohan, you gotta let the resentment go at some point."

"I could care less about what drivel he publishes but the way he was looking at you and touching you was nausea-inducing!" He exclaimed as he jabbed a finger at you.

"Oh! So now you only care about me because you think there's another guy? Jealousy is not a good look on you." You spat.

You turned on your heel to march away from him, being done with this conversation but all of a sudden, your back was slammed against the wall and a very furious Kishibe Rohan was pressed against you, emerald eyes simmering.

You were terrified but the feeling of his solid, toned body made butterflies burst in your stomach. He pressed his forearm against your throat and glared at you.

"You are mine. From the day you were assigned to overlook my work, you should've known that you belong to me."

You were at a loss for words.

"Rohan, I'm warning you. Get your hands off of me and step back before I scream and ruin your reputation forever." You threatened.

"You wouldn't dare." He sneered.

"Oh, you really wanna try me?" You hissed.

He rolled his eyes and begrudgingly followed your demand. Pulling away from you.

"I've let you disrespect me for as long as I've known you...I was foolishly blinded by my admiration for you."

His arms were folded and he looked indifferent. As if he didn't have the slightest bit of remorse at what had just taken place.

"Goodnight." You said, voice defiant as you glowered at him.

You couldn't sleep. The both of you did your nighttime routine in deafening silence.

That feeling overtook you again. You hated it. Why did you always have pangs of guilt when you gave Rohan the energy he gave you first?

You tossed and turned in the pitch black for what seemed like hours.

That, until you slipped out of the single bed (that idiotic feeling guilted you into giving him the emperor bed you had sought out so badly) and approached the doorway of his room.

You swallowed thickly.

He was wrong. Everything that had transpired was caused by him. So why did all you want to do was make him feel better? Even apologise?

Your soft spot for the arrogant manga author was your downfall, truly.

You pushed the door open and saw him staring at the ceiling.

"You still haven't slept?" You murmured.

"How can I sleep when you hate me?" He questioned, angrily. Still not looking at you.

There was an odd pang of hurt when you registered the tone of his voice.

You sat on the side of his bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

"I don't hate you, Rohan." You huffed out, met with silence.

"I could never hate you." You sighed. "As much as you deserve it."

"That's...reassuring to hear." He responded.

"Look at me." You said and he obliged. "You made a mistake and...I know people would think I’m batshit crazy but I know you pretty well, so I won't force you to apologise. But I know you feel bad..."

"Don't say I'm yours and that I belong to you unless you're mine and belong to me. You got that?"

He glared at you, then nodded.

"...So you forgive me?" He said, voice unsure.

"That's a word I thought I'd never hear out of your mouth." You muttered.

"If you're just going to make snide comments, why should I even bother?" He retorted in a haughty voice.

"Okay, okay! I was kidding. Yes, I forgive you Rohan." You snickered as you slid closer to him.

He eyes widened slightly when he saw you approach him.

"...What are you doing..?" He questioned as you crawled over him. "Hmph..!"

You draped your arms around him and pressed your lips against him, hand settling on the nape of his neck.

He tensed against you, blinking rapidly. He could feel his heart flutter. Your hold on him was unlike anything he'd never experienced in his life.

Beautiful women and men, of course he'd been captivated by looks in his past but to be plagued by all these feelings of want and need were foreign to him.

To want what Ryosuke had, you to look at him with affection. He never wanted what anybody else had. Until you.

You pulled away once you felt him shake his head.

"What's the matter?" You asked, a little embarrassed if you jumped the gun and made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if you-"

"No! No, don't apologise. Please." He cut you off as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I wouldn't wanna make this awkward-"

"Just stop talking." He said, causing you to anxiously gnaw at your bottom lip. "You're a terrible kisser."

"WHAT?!" You exclaimed, taken off guard by his comment.

"Yes. You kiss like an awkward middle schooler." He retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"If you're just gonna insult me then what's the point-" You said through gritted teeth.

You felt him haul you onto his lap with great strength which shocked you.

"Slower." He instructed.

You felt something snap in you as you grabbed the collar of his top.

"Do you hear what comes out of your mouth, you jackass?!" You ranted. "I don't need kissing lessons from you! When's the last time you even hooked up with somebody?!"

"That's NONE of your business!" He snarled as he glowered at you, pulling your wrists away from the fabric of his shirt.

"I hope you know I have an active sex life. I know what I'm doing. I would've slept with Ryosuke if I knew this is how you were going to-"

"Don't you dare mention that loathsome man-"

"Well don't insult my kissing!" You argued back. "Ugh." You sulked, attempting to remove yourself from his grip.

"Fine, I'm sorry. I just-" He sighed. "Look at me the way you look at him." He pleaded.

"This was never about him. Rohan, I adored you even before I met him! You were the one who pushed me away at every turn. You gave me glimpses of kindness but would turn on me as if I did something. You caused this."

"I know! You don't think I have some sort of self awareness?! I know I've hurt you."

"So if you know, why do you do it?!" You said, almost in tears from how overwhelmed you were.

You were exhausted.

"As if I know! Look, don't leave. Let me kiss you, instead." He sighed.

He settled his hand on the nape of your neck to crane you down to meet his lips.

You let out a content sigh as his other hand slid underneath your silk top and kneaded at your bare skin.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and his long eyelashes tickled your own. Tongues tangled together as he cupped the side of your face and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

When he pulled away, for air you could see strings of saliva connecting the two of you. Your nipples hardened and the heat pooling in your lower regions was making you dizzy.

Rohan seemed to be muttering under his breath, sentences you could barely make out.

"Kiss me more...please. You're beautiful. I can't get enough of you. I should've kissed you long ago."

"Are you drunk?" You snickered, his rambling seemed insane.

"No. Did you taste alcohol on my tongue?" He said, curtly.

You shook your head.

"I never took you as a needy one, Rohan." You whispered as you pulled away from his mouth to trace the shell of his ear with the tip of your tongue.

He clutched onto you harder, you felt his nails dig into the flesh of your waist.

"Guess I should've picked up on the signs. Since you were sulking for my attention." You said, taking his earlobe between your teeth.

He swore he was about to burst. It hurt so much, he was straining badly. Usually he could keep some composure when he was aroused but with you? He was a mess.

All he could think of was to be inside of you. And then you did the worst thing you could at that moment.

You clambered off of his lap.

"Where are you going..?!" He cried out.

You snickered to yourself. You only were repositioning yourself but he was already desperate.

Your knee began to rub into his crotch.

He mustered out a few strangled groans.

You retaliated by pushing your knee further and further.

"The great Kishibe Rohan seems to be at a loss for words now, huh?" You giggled causing him to stare at you in horror for a split second but more friction reduced him back to a stuttering mess.

"...Please." he choked out.

"Please what?"

His hands flew up to his bottoms as he scrambled to pull them down. Your hand clamped around his wrist to stop him.

"Now, who said you could do that?"

"Huh, AH-!" He cried out as you twisted your kneecap slowly.

"You want anything? You ask me. I'll think about it, maybe." You snickered.

It felt good to get back at Rohan.

After all the times he made you feel so insignificant and was just beyond condescending towards you, having him in the palm of your hand, so helpless, it was a confident boost.

Also it was pretty hot to see him whimper and beg for you.

Tantalisingly slow, in an attempt to make him more and more desperate, you pulled the pants down at a leisurely pace.

You snorted when you saw the tent in his underwear and the damp stain.

"Jeez. You'd think the self proclaimed great Kishibe Rohan would have some sort of restraint." You said, with a smug smile.

"Stop teasing me, woman...I beg you..." He said, in a pained voice.

"Since its our first...then yeah. Be grateful." You said as you wrapped your hand around his shaft and began to pump slowly.

Your thumb circled his tip simultaneously and Rohan thought he was going to yell. The sensations mixed with the sight of you was making him lightheaded.

His back arched as he mindlessly bucked his hips.

"Rohan, you better behave before I change my mind and make you finish yourself off." You said in a disproving tone. "Is that what you want?"

He shook his head.

"NO! No...I'll behave. I mean it. Whatever you say, just please.." He rambled, his eyes squeezed shut. "I want you."

"Okay.." You said, gently.

You figured you'd had your fill of being a menace.

As much as you doubt he'd stop being a jackass, you felt a little rush to your head seeing him so unravelled.

You lowered your head and your thumb slid from the head to the side, still massaging his member.

You locked eyes with him as you gave a few slow, languid licks then kissed the flesh. You could've sworn his eyes flashed before you.

You then took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue. You wanted to drive him crazy. but you also enjoyed every moment.

Rohan is breathtaking up close. Like this.

From his angular sharp features that should be plastered on every magazine across the globe, his toned abdominals and arms, his sea green orbs that were usually so stormy but every now and then shimmered like galaxies.

And to have him at your mercy, chest rising and groaning you were pretty proud of yourself.

"I'm..." He heaved out.

You slowly pulled yourself off of his length and gazed at him.

"Do you wanna finish in my mouth?" You asked.

He shook his head as he propped himself up with his elbows. His hand reached out to undo the front clasp of your bra.

He cupped your right breast and your eyes widened.

It didn't take a genius to guess what he wanted.

Nonetheless, you obliged and soon enough the milky, white fluid began to ooze onto your boobs.

He threw his head back in relief as he breathed out heavily.

"Lick it." He said hoarsely, returning to his ordinary self.

"Huh?"

"I said lick my cum. I want you to do it in front of me." He ordered.

On your knees, you scooped the remnants with your forefinger and middle finger, bringing it towards your tongue as you looked at him through your eyelashes.

"Who would've thought you were this lewd?" He snickered as he shook his head. "Make sure you don't leave a drop."

You nodded as you sucked what you gathered clean.

He cleared his throat.

"Hmph. Well it wouldn't be fair if I didn't reciprocate." He said as he pulled his top over his head and threw it across the room.

"You don't have to.." You said a little coyly, fingers still in your mouth.

"Nonsense."

Without a beat, he yanked you up from the floor and pushed you onto the bed causing you to squeal.

"...Rohan!"

"More. I want more of you, I want to taste you." He murmured, greedily as he laved kisses across your chest, stomach, abdominals.

He left no place untouched and you swore you were in heaven.

"How obscene are you?" He questioned as he hooked a finger to pull down your underwear. "Absolutely soaked from sucking me off."

"Don't let it get to your head." You huffed.

He alternated between licking, sucking and trailing gentle and soft kisses along your inner thighs which made you by reflex jerk and clamp them around his head.

"...Rohan." You whined as his teeth scraped the sensitive skin.

"Getting ate out by the great Kishibe Rohan, it's erotic isn't it?"

Despite your hazy state, you still pulled a face. How was he still being pretentious during sex of all things?

You pushed yourself up with your elbows and frowned at him.

"Now, now." He taunted. "You're not exactly in a position to catch an attitude are you, Y/N?"

He pulled away from your heat.

"What the hell is your issue?!" You snapped, agitated.

"Say it."

"Say what?!"

"How excited you are for me to go down on you."

"You are unbelievable." You groaned, thumping your head hard onto the pillow.

"I'm waiting."

You slit your eyes at him, then let out a sigh.

"...I am so excited for Kishibe Rohan to go down on me." You said in a monotonous tone.

"Lacking enthusiasm but I suppose it'll do." He remarked, diving between your legs again.

After what seemed like hours, he took a long slow lick at your drenched slit.

You jerked around and he held your hips down onto the mattress as he happily sucked and slurped at your juices.

Your hand clamped over your mouth and tears threatened your waterline as he moaned against your heat. He drove you up the wall.

You cried out his name and he pulled away to look at you, hair sticking to his forehead and lips glossy with your essence.

"Yes, say my name. Keep saying my name like that. Who is making you feel good?" He said, voice thick with lust.

"You...Rohan..." You slurred.

"Your voice...is so lovely.." He murmured. "It makes me want to taste you even more."

The room was filled with a cacophony of the crude sucking and licking sounds, the wet and squelching as he plunged one finger into your plush walls and your whines.

You hoped the walls weren't too thin.

You felt his finger curl upwards and cried out.

"Rohan, please..."

"What do you want from me?" He asked, voice grating. "I want to feel you properly.." You murmured.

"Okay...I will...I'm getting rather lightheaded anyways." He responded, as he retreated from you, sucking his fingers that were covered in the remnants, obnoxiously making sounds.

"Rohan." You scolded as you covered your face with your arm.

"Tasting the fruits of my labor." He said, teasingly.

He readjusted himself, slotting himself between you. Lining himself to enter you. He met your lips sloppily and passionately. His tongue in your mouth, once again.

"Enough of the games now. I don't think I have any more patience left in me. I need to take you, now." He grumbled.

"Now." You echoed.

Your chests heaved. You needed to open a window or something, however the way Rohan had snaked his arms around your waist made it impossible to leave.

You were enjoying the feeling of his lithe figure against your bare skin. Albeit sticky and clammy.

"Rohan, I need to shower.." You trailed off.

He let out a noise against the skin of your chest which made you giggle and jerk at the vibration.

"Your plan worked." He murmured.

"Huh?"

"You wanted me to come to seduce me. Well, congratulations you vixen."

"Rohan, go to hell." You laughed in disbelief. "I did not bring you on this cruise to sleep with you."

"Well why else?!"

"I told you, you jerk! They were gonna take it as disrespect if we didn't haul our asses here!"

You pulled away from his grip and searched for your discarded clothing.

He propped himself on his elbows and gave you a smug smile.

"It's not like I'm not complaining."

"I'm not some creep that needs to lure you somewhere!" You snapped as you stormed off to the bathroom. He laughed to himself in the dark as he shook his head.

author's note: if you read this far, thank you sm and a million kisses for you!! there will be a part two that will make the synopsis make more sense KSKDJSK anyways I published this at like 3am so sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes lawl. also sorry about the awkward smut, i'm working on it i promise

#⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles #kishibe rohan x reader #rohan kishibe x reader #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #jjba x female reader #jjba smut #jjba x y/n #jojo x reader #jjba diu #rohan kishibe #kishibe rohan #jjba part 4 #jjba diamond is unbreakable #jjba

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vivienne-writes · 9 months

Text

My Little Fairy 🧚🏻

Summary: Being one of the youngest in the family, Prince Garreth is far down the line to inherit the throne and is more than content to be left to his potion studies. However, his parents have decided to marry him off to a princess he's never met. Or... has he?

AO3: x

A/N: Here's my late submission for Weasley Wednesday! I wrote all this in one go. My brain feels like a sponge. The drawing above was based on a scene I omitted from the story cause it's right after the wedding, and we all know what happens after a wedding 👀 The princess is unnamed, so readers can base her off their MCs, but I had to give her a face so here's my OC. I'm absolutely in love with Oscar Weasley as well (all ya'll in the discord are to blame) so he's definitely making an appearance here, along with a few other made up characters to pad the story.

All was quiet in Prince Garreth's room save for the sound of bottles and flasks tinkling as he examined one after the other, debating which ones to take and which to leave behind. They were filled with an assortment of potions and ingredients alike, but far too many for the trip to his new home. Aurora. A neighboring country that prided itself on its scholars and academic breakthroughs in astronomy and ancient magic.

He had been there once before, on a trip with his father to forge an alliance between their two nations. It was nothing like his home, Camellia, a land of sloping green fields, lush rivers, and forests teeming with beasts and critters. Home to humble hamlets and cities best known for their bountiful trade in rare magical ingredients and plants. No, Aurora was situated high in the mountains to get a clear view of the stars and the heavens, the altitude keeping the nation chilly and brisk for a large part of the year.

Garreth did not mind the weather so much, nor its people. But then again, he had only been a child when he had visited. No more than a boy of eight, if he recalled correctly. But the purpose of that trip had been successful, and Aurora had deigned to ally with Camellia. However, it wasn't until quite recently that Garreth learned of the terms of their alliance. Aurora sought to solidify the alliance by way of marriage, and he was the unlucky one chosen to wed their only princess when she finally came of age. Why him and not any of his other brothers? Garreth had no clue. He'd ask his father, the King of Camellia, but Garreth was still too shaken up about being kept in the dark for so many years that he avoided his father since.

A knock at the door dragged Garreth from his thoughts, but he didn’t deign to answer. He knew who it was, and his visitor never bothered to wait for a response anyways.

“Garreth, are you still sulking?” Oscar asked, resting an elbow on the door handle as he watched his youngest brother take a whiff out of an unlabeled flask. Garreth gave no reply, but Oscar forged ahead, unperturbed by the other’s silence.

“Come on, getting married isn’t all that bad. Look at Septimus! Consort to the lovely Queen of Amaryllis with five children and counting. He spends his days hunting, reading, rearing those adorable nieces and nephews of ours… I’m sure you’ll get to be Potions Master of Aurora if you please the princess well enough.”

Garreth rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be Potions Master here like I've always planned," he grumbled under his breath.

Being one of the youngest, Garreth knew he wouldn't have any claim to the throne. Not with seven brothers and four sisters ahead of him, and he didn't want it either if, somehow, all his siblings dropped dead and gave him a clear shot at being king. Since he could learn to read, Garreth possessed immense talent and love for potions, and his parents supported his studies. They indulged him with a tower of his own, supplied him with everything and anything he could ever wish for, and placed him under the tutelage of the court's Grand Master. He was more than content to have stayed on this path, forging his life by his terms and no one else's. But he supposed there was a reason now for his parents' indulgence. Perhaps he'd go along with the marriage without complaint if they gave him everything he wanted.

“Why can’t you marry the princess instead, Oscar?” Garreth asked, throwing his brother a glance over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’d be able to win her over with that charm of yours.”

"Would if I could. I hear the princess is quite lovely. But father's word is law."

Garreth returned to his packing, dejection weighing his shoulders with a slump. Oscar was right. As doting of a father the king was, there was no swaying him once an order had been decreed, and none of his brothers could save him from this miserable fate.

Oscar regarded his brother with a sidelong glance. Out of all his siblings, he was closest to Garreth, pulling him into all sorts of mischief and saving him from them. But this was one predicament he had no hold over. He had spoken to the king about the matter more times than he could count, going so far as to argue with him. Oscar even pleaded with his mother to do something. The king loved his queen and took her word before anyone else, but she only shook her head sadly. Switching the princess' betrothed would be considered an insult, and Aurora was too great an ally to lose.

Garreth finally looked up, staring out the window as he fought back the tears that prickled his eyes. "I just don't… understand why they'd keep this from me for so long," he finally admitted. Sure, an arranged marriage was awful in itself, but the lack of trust from his parents wounded him. "They could've told me ages ago. Kept me from believing the false truth that I had any agency of my own. It would've been easier to accept it that way."

Oscar bit his cheek with a frown. “Perhaps they only wanted to protect you,” he answered softly, “to keep you happy as long as they could.”

Garreth scoffed. Happy. If the king and queen truly wanted their children happy, they’d let them choose a life for themselves than marry them off to strange princes and princesses. And if Garreth were to marry for himself, there was only one girl he could think of. One lovely little maiden that had haunted his dreams for years…

~~~

“Garreth? Your father has requested your presence – oh dear, he’s not in his room again.”

Lady Matilda rubbed her temple with a frustrated groan. Leave it to her youngest nephew to escape when he’s needed most. “That child’s probably wandering the grounds again,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her, head reeling with all the possible places he could be hiding in. As she turned around a corner, she nearly slipped and snapped her ankle.

"Genevieve, what have I told you about leaving your toys in the corridor?" Lady Matilda eyed the youngest of her nieces, hiding behind a curtain, as she picked up the offending marbles strewn over the floor.

"Aunt Matilda, I know where Gaz went," the child giggled with a toothless grin, her beautiful locks all tousled and in need of combing. "I think he went to the gardens to find lacewing flies again."

“Just because you tattled on your brother doesn’t mean I won’t be back for you, young lady,” Lady Matilda said as she tossed the marbles back into Genevieve’s room with a wave of her wand. “And that hair better be brushed when I return.”

“Yes, Aunt Matilda,” Genevieve pouted.

"Now, to find that little prince," Lady Matilda sighed.

Meanwhile, heat crept up Garreth’s neck, forcing him to tug off his sweltering vest and leaving it to fall in a crumpled heap on the grass. He’ll come back to it later. But right now, he was searching for any sign of a bowtruckle. His eldest brother William told him they liked to hide in the hedges, between the branches that provided camouflage underneath the thickly packed leaves. Garreth wondered what they looked like outside his book's diagrams and ventured out to see them.

But the morning had gone on, and after much crawling and searching, Garreth found neither stem nor leaf of the little creatures and was beginning to turn back to the castle for a fresh glass of pumpkin juice when he heard a sharp shriek.

"Help!" cried the girlish voice, one of his sisters most likely. Garreth sprinted around the corner and came face to face with a little lass dressed all in blue and silver with stars crisscrossing her dress. They were not the colors of his court, red and gold, which all the princes and princesses of Camellia wore. Garreth knew not where this little lady came from, but she was in dire need of assistance as a couple of naughty pixies had begun pulling her hair and clothes this way and that.

“Leave me alone, you pesky things!" the girl cried as she swatted them away. But they returned, taunting her while pinching her skin.

She seemed about his age, so Garreth wondered why she didn't repel them away with magic. Well, whatever the reason, he didn't think the poor thing should be left to fend for herself. So, with a flourish of his wand, Garreth sent the impish creatures flying with a repelling charm. Their teeth chattered, and their fingers clicked impudently, cursing him in a language he didn't understand as they flew off before he could repel them again.

The girl straightened up, fixing her eyes on Garreth as she looked him up and down. "I suppose I have you to thank for that," she grinned, patting down her skirts to form some semblance of tidiness before readjusting the ribbons in her hair. “I shan’t think what would become of me if you hadn’t come along.”

She waited for his response, but Garreth stood speechless, captivated by the stars bedazzling her eyes as she looked him up and down. She was a pretty thing, not like anyone he's ever met around his father's palace. And she was very eloquent, her accent dancing with a different lilt than he was accustomed to. Having realized that he was staring, Garreth cleared his throat.

“You could’ve simply used magic to save yourself, you know,” he mumbled, keenly aware that she was staring just as intently as he was.

The girl shrugged. "I've no magic yet," she stated simply, as if that were a common occurrence, for it wasn't, at least, not in Camellia. Children began displaying their magic around five or six years of age, and this girl may have been around ten or eleven. Her eyes darted to the wand in his hand. "I see you're quite skilled already," she nodded at chin at his wand. "Have you started on lessons yet?"

"Of course," came his reply. "I'm a prince. We're taught far earlier than most." He wanted to ask why she had no magic or wand yet, but it seemed rude to ask that of someone he just met.

The girl tossed her hair with a huff. “You’re no prince. Your clothes are all messy!”

Garreth looked down. His pants were scuffed with dirt from crawling around, and his shirt was wrinkled and creased everywhere. He even had leaves in his hair now that he brought his fingers up to push them away from his sweating forehead. Fighting the urge to blush, he bit back, "I am a prince! I –"

“If you’re a prince, then I’m a fairy,” the girl teased. There was no way this ragamuffin was a prince. Princes were supposed to be stately, well-dressed, and handsome. And although this boy before her was handsome, he was anything but stately. Well-dressed, yes, but his clothes were an utter mess.

“Why are you even here?” Garreth demanded.

The stars sparkled in the girl’s eyes as she beamed with excitement. “I heard there were unicorns here. Is it true? I’ve been walking around in search of them.”

Garreth blinked. Of course, there were. The forests of Camellia were filled with them. Even the royal stable housed a few for his sisters' delight. But if she wasn't from this court as he suspected, there was a good chance she had never laid eyes on them before. Garreth decided that this girl was pretty. Immensely so. And he'd like to impress her just a little bit.

“Come this way. I’ll show you.” And as they walked, she practically skipped with glee, unleashing question after question about the numerous beasts that proliferated the lands of Camellia. And for once, Garreth was glad to have the answers.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Garreth realized there was more to the adorable stranger than he initially thought. Where most of the young daughters of his father's courtiers were shy, timid, or downright snooty, this girl was excitable and feisty. She didn't care if he was a prince or not. She didn't seek his favor or endeavor to please him. Throughout the day, she teased and taunted but always good-naturedly. She asked many questions but listened with rapt attention to all his explanations. About the unicorns, his court, and most of all, his potions.

He showed her the gardens where he got most of his ingredients, and she knew several of the plants already, having read about them in books. Like him, she had a penchant for snacks and shared several with him until her pockets ran out.

"I feel awfully terrible," Garreth said, watching her skirt twirl in the wind now that it wasn't weighed down by candy and treats. "You sure I can't give you some in return?"

The girl shook her head. “Consider it thanks for showing me your sisters’ unicorns. Felicity was my favorite one.”

Garreth nodded. This was the most fun he'd had in a while, and something about this girl enchanted him. Everything she touched or looked at made them seem new and magical to his eyes. She saw the world with a fresh perspective he had never thought to see before… and it made him want to bask in her presence a bit longer. She was magical, this girl. Even if she didn't possess a lick of magic herself.

“I’ve got an idea,” she whirled to face him. “You see that tree over there? Want to climb it?”

"Sure," he chuckled. At this moment, he'd do anything she asked if it meant keeping that bubbly smile on her face.

“Good! Last one’s a rotten egg!” she jumped to a sprint.

"Wait! No fair!" Garreth called out, but she stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder, her thin legs dashing even faster.

Unbeknownst to either, the king and queen of Camellia had been watching their son from atop a third-floor window with an emissary dressed in a fashion similar to the girl’s.

“They seem to be getting along swimmingly,” said the king, giving his wife a thoughtful glance.

But the queen remained worried, clutching a hand to her chest. Garreth was her youngest son. Her baby. She harbored a soft spot for him and wanted him home for as long as possible. With an electrifying glance at the emissary from Aurora, she asked, “Won’t my other sons do? My second eldest, Septimus, has always wanted to marry a princess. He’s a sentimental boy and woos ladies aplenty with his poetry and prose.”

But the emissary shook his head. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I must remind you that while the terms of the alliance hinge upon the princess’s union with one of your princes, it must be of her own choosing. And as such, I have no say in the matter.”

The queen returned her attention to her son, who was now busy picking fruit from the tallest branches of the tree for the princess. While affectionate with his sisters, Garreth has never shown any inclination or affection for any other young girls in their court. No matter how well-dressed, respectable, or accomplished they were, he never gave them so much as a glance. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her reverie, and the king and queen turned to find Lady Matilda.

“Garreth is hell-bent on escaping me, it seems,” she began, but the king held up a patient hand.

“No worries, dear sister,” he gave her a soft smile. “He’s with the princess.”

~~~

“Where the fuck is the princess?”

“Genny!” Septimus hissed reproachfully. “Must you use such foul language?!”

“Must you be a bore, Sep?” Genevieve stood on tiptoes, craning her neck to find her future sister-in-law’s carriage amidst the procession trailing into Camellia’s royal court. “I hear she rides a carriage of fairest white and starlight. But it’s too dark to see a blasted thing through this window!”

William tapped a finger against his chin before taking out Oscar's bishop with his rook. "You'd see the carriage if you'd just wear your bloody spectacles," he murmured.

Genevieve spun around. “I heard that! And you know why I refuse to wear them. They make me look like Aunt Matilda.”

Oscar looked up and clutched his heart with feigned surprise. “Aunt Matilda! How long have you been standing there?” He dodged Genevieve’s shoe as the others erupted into laughter.

"Prick," she bristled with annoyance, skipping across the room to fetch her shoe. "Anyways, has anyone seen Garreth? He's the man of the hour. He should be waiting downstairs with Mother and Father to receive his lovely bride."

Oscar shook his head with a frown. “You know where he is.”

“Hiding,” said everyone in unison.

It would have been funny, but their brother had stubbornly refused to appear before anyone, dreading their well wishes and congratulations. What should’ve been a joyous event felt like a death sentence, and Garreth was doing everything he could to stay hidden and out of sight. It was a shame, for his siblings have traveled, or are still traveling, from far and wide to see him and witness his marriage.

“You would think,” Genevieve plopped down sadly beside Septimus, resting her feet on her brother’s lap, “he’d come out and spend time with us before he goes away.”

“If it’s any consolation,” said William, “Aurora is practically next door. He can visit us or vice versa whenever we wish.”

“It’s not the saaame,” Genevieve moaned, hugging Septimus’ arm. “One by one, you’re all leaving me. Save for you, William, since you’re taking father’s throne. So, I’m stuck with your sorry ass.”

“You might be married one day too, Genny,” said Septimus.

“Never! I’d rather be a spinster like Aunt Matilda and serve Camellia to the end of my days. Mother knows I’m too capricious to be wed.”

“Never say never,” Oscar muttered, upending the chessboard as he realized his inevitable defeat.

The sounds of William's protests and Genevieve's shrill laughter escaped the study, and Garreth, who had been eavesdropping for a while now, frowned with a painful pang of his heart. This was his last week with his siblings, and here he was, running away from the sight of them like a petulant child. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't withstand their pity. Their fake happiness. But… if he were to face the rest of his life stuck in a loveless marriage, perhaps it was best to enjoy what remaining love he could get from his rambunctious siblings.

With steady resolve, he plastered on the best smile he could muster and opened the door, greeting everyone with a decidedly cheery look. The others knew it was a façade, but they made no mention of it, relishing in their brother's presence before he was taken away from them forever.

~~~

The week leading up to the wedding was a hectic mess that whizzed by in a blur. From outfit fittings to dining with guests, Garreth was extremely grateful for his siblings' help. Many of them were married and helped him endure the craziness of being a royal groom-to-be. And the ones who weren't, like Oscar and Genevieve, managed to steal the limelight whenever they noticed Garreth growing increasingly overwhelmed by the attention.

Thankfully, out of the dozens of guests, Garreth had not been requested to meet his future bride or her parents. He wondered if she dreaded their wedding day as much as he did and if she was soaking up the last days of freedom before being shackled to a man she'd never even met.

But as the wedding day drew nearer, word of his fiancee’s beauty began to spread like wildfire. She seemed to be roaming the grounds, coincidentally avoiding places Garreth was known to linger in. But she couldn't avoid his siblings' notice, with William and his other sisters claiming to have met her during a walk around the pastures. Genevieve, being the most eager to lay eyes on her, finally met her where the unicorns were allowed to graze and went on and on about the princess's kindness and beauty to whoever would listen.

So much so that Garreth was beginning to grow nervous. He didn't care about his fiancée, to begin with, but… if she truly was the beauty they claimed her to be, would she find him dull and ugly? Garreth twirled a lock of hair around his finger. He knew it sent many girls’ hearts aflutter, but would it be enough to impress the princess?

“Genny’s a right ole church bell,” Oscar groaned from the sofa he was napping on, crossing an arm over his eyes. He opened one eye lazily and watched Garreth fuss over his hair. “I could be mistaken, Gaz, but are you seriously primping yourself right now?”

A flush crept over Garreth’s face. “Shut up, Oscar.”

Oscar bit back his smirk. A nervous Garreth was better than a sullen Garreth.

~~~

Come the morning of the long-awaited wedding day, the palace was awash in the sun’s buttery gold light, flitting through the towering glass windows in soft, dazzling beams. But the entire court was abuzz with servants and nobles running to and fro to get everything ready, too busy to take notice of the sun’s blessing light.

Garreth dressed slowly, his limbs moving of their own accord while servants helped him with his vest and refinery. This would be the last morning he’d ever wake up in his own room as a single man and free prince of Camellia. He wondered if it was too late to hop on a stallion and make his escape.

“Don’t even think about it,” came the gruff voice of the Grand Master from the doorway.

“Professor Sharp,” Garreth swallowed loudly. Even with a limp, his master still managed to come off foreboding. “What are you doing here, sir?”

"Making sure you don't do exactly what you're thinking, son," he replied, ambling towards the nearest armchair. He studied his protegee with an unreadable look before saying, "I know you must be expecting the worst, but you'll come to love Aurora."

“How do you know that, sir?”

Professor Sharp gave a wry smile. “Because I was born and raised there. Everything I’ve taught you, I learned in Aurora. They can teach you things you couldn't learn anywhere else."

Garreth gave a tentative smile in return. In all the years he spent under his master's guidance, this was the first time he divulged anything about his personal life, and Garreth was grateful for it. It appeased his heart a little and gave him something to look forward to, even if this marriage might be as torturous as he expected.

And to Garreth's dismay, the torture started as soon as he stepped into the massive ballroom where the wedding would take place. Grand and luxurious, no expense was spared for this wedding, and the heady scent of flowers filling the room began getting to him. Standing on a dais with his brothers as his best men, he wondered which of them would catch him if he were to faint.

“Quit your fidgeting, Garreth,” William chastised, peering over Septimus’ head. “And Hector, spit that gum out of your mouth before I get it out myself,” he snapped at their second youngest brother.

Garreth rolled his neck, clenching his teeth as the fabric of his coat made his neck itch. He utterly despised formal events. The stuffy clothes, the simpering nobles, all of it got on his nerves, and William seemed determined to make everyone as equally annoyed as he was. Thankfully, Oscar had the mind to discreetly transfigure his coat, widening the neckline to give Garreth more room to breathe.

Garreth gave his favorite brother a grateful smile and turned his face towards the double doors as music began to fill the room, the peaceful strum of the orchestra drowning out the wild beating of his heart as it began to race.

This was it.

The moment he'd been dreading for. But regardless of his feelings, Garreth would push through the day with as much grace and charm as possible. There was no sense in starting off on the wrong foot with his soon-to-be wife.

~~~

The princess clutched her bouquet nervously as she waited for the doors to open. The musicians began to play on the other side, signaling her queue to get ready to walk. Her cold, clammy palms started glistening with sweat, and she took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart.

This was it.

The moment she'd been waiting for. The moment to find out whether she made a good choice all those years ago when she was not but a girl older than ten. She felt soft, comforting hands grip her arm gently, and the princess turned her head to gaze down at her loving mother, tears threatening to spill down her face. A sob from her other side, and the princess wavered at the sight of her father, the stoic king of Aurora, now weeping into his handkerchief.

She was their only daughter. The only girl to have been born in three generations, equally as witty and intelligent as her brothers. They knew this day was coming, and she would still reside in their palace as the heiress to the throne, but it hurt to hand her off to be wed. The king and queen had so many words to tell her, so many ways to say they loved her, but when the doors flung open, they knew it could wait. This day was to celebrate a new love. A love they hoped would grow between their daughter and the youngest prince of Camellia.

From behind her thick veil, the princess could barely make out the silhouette of her groom. All her focus was centered on her feet, ensuring she didn't trip on the extravagantly puffy skirt. While the veil was annoying, it at least shielded her from the crowd's immense staring, as many craned their necks and eyes to see if she was as lovely as the rumors had whispered her to be. If all went well, she'd only have to do this once in her life, a thought that didn't seem as comforting the longer she pondered it.

Goodness, did this walkway never end? Her petticoat was a bit itchy, and she wanted nothing more than to kick her heels off and scratch that itch. The princess focused on trivial matters to push the nagging possibility that Prince Garreth might never come to love her. Oh, she's heard the rumors. He didn't take the news of their betrothal well, and it broke her heart a little to learn that he didn't remember her at all.

Well, no use crying about it now. The grave's been dug, and it's time to lie in it. She came to a halt right before the priest, each of her parents breaking protocol to hug her before sitting beside her new parents-in-law. And when she turned to the priest again, she felt her fiancé's arm barely graze against hers, sending ripples down her spine. Even years after, without a clue how he looked or acted now, he still had the same effect on her.

~~~

The priest droned on about the sanctity of marriage and the importance of unification between nations, and Garreth fought back his drooping eyelids. From the corner of his eye, he saw William reach an arm to pinch Hector awake, and a chuckle escaped Garreth’s lips before he could stop himself.

“Any day now, Father,” he muttered as quietly as he could, and Garreth swore he heard a soft giggle from behind the veil. Well, he supposed this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as he thought if his wife possessed a shred of humor.

When all was finally said, the priest stowed away his holy book and looked to the young couple before him to ask if they would take each other as their lawfully wedded spouse. Oscar sighed in relief when he heard Garreth say, "I do," although knowing his brother best, it sounded a little too much like pulling his nails out. And when the bride finally spoke, "I do," everyone in the room waited with bated breath for Garreth to reveal his new wife's face.

His hands shook with trepidation as his fingers met the soft fabric of gossamer and tulle. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He had no reason to be. But his eyes fell on the bride’s hands, and the bouquet quivered in her grasp. Garreth realized she was just as anxious as he was, and it consoled him. Made him realize he was not alone.

Gently, so painstakingly slowly, he lifted the veil inch by inch, past her chest, her shoulders, then her chin, and – oh.

Garreth's breath stilled, his skin blooming a viciously red hue as he took in familiar, star-bedazzled eyes framed by exquisitely long lashes and the most luscious pair of lips he had ever laid eyes on. Lips that curved in a shy but taunting grin as she dared him to remember her. Remember that distant day of chatter and play. Judging from how he gaped at her, it all came flooding back, clear as a bell.

"I guess you ARE a prince, after all," she teased, eyes still searching his for any sign of assurance. Any sign at all that she did not make a mistake by choosing him. Over Garreth's shoulder, the princess could make out his siblings, straining to catch a glimpse of her face, but one in particular, Genny, waved at her with an enthusiastic grin.

All tension in Garreth's shoulders fled him as he smiled down adoringly at his new wife without care that all eyes were on them. "There she is," he hummed pleasantly. "There's my little fairy."

The rest of the world dimmed away in a blur as Garreth leaned down to kiss his bride, his skin erupting into flaming ripples at the feel of her soft lips against his. This marriage may not be so bad after all.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #fic #my stuff #au #i got the background from pinterest but if anyone knows who the actual artist is pls lemme know

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saffloure · 2 years

Text

ೃ༄HIT DICE (I)

EDDIE MUNSON X HARRINGTON!OC

MASTERLIST

✧chapter one: expectations of a buttercup

↳ word count: 6,8k

↳ spoiler warning: seasons 1-3

↳ other warnings: smoking weed, being high, mildly drastic wound description (regarding the Mind Flayer), mentions of death (minor characters)

↳ mentioned songs/artists: Tears for Fears, Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix, Diary of the Madman by Ozzy Osbourne

↳ a/n: hello lovies! I’ve been working on this piece since the ending of vol.2, trying to bring our boy Edds justice. hope you enjoy my little scribbles! if you want to be notified each time I post — comment or dm me!

Sometimes, expectations can appear exorbitant.

For instance, some may anticipate to pass a strenuous test with flying colors. Others may hope to conduct a trenchant analysis of the nagging emotions, seething inside of them. There are also those, who look forward to obtaining wealth; whether it's spiritual or plainly material.

Those things, however, are significantly more likely to be fulfilled while compared with...

"Steve! I swear, I'm going to fuckin' kill you!"

...the expectations regarding your own siblings.

"Geez! Calm down, booger," Steve Harrington sighed loudly, rolling his eyes at the sound of his younger sister re-entering their house.

A spoon he was eating his cereals with was still in his mouth when he heard a harsh noise of the car keys hitting the surface of their wooden kitchen table.

"I've been telling you for the past four days there's something wrong with my car!" The brunette girl bursted out with an expression of utter anger. The kind, people let themselves express only around the closest family members.

"So, uh, have you considered visiting a mechanic?" Steve answered nonchalantly, completely not bothered by the fit of rage his sister was displaying.

"You've promised me to do it!"

With that, Steve Harrington finally took the metal spoon out of his mouth and with the most blank and carefree expression asked, "Did I?"

It was the final nail in the coffin for the already furious girl. Plucking up unspeakable amounts of strength, she gritted her teeth in hopes of keeping her composure steady...

...or rather what had remained of it at that point.

"On Wednesday, to be precise. It's Friday today," she reminded him, inhaling audibly. Just as her mother always ordered her to do when she wanted to calm herself down.

"Well, that's great then, isn't it?" Steve smirked, getting up from his chair as he sloppily placed the bowl and the spoon in the sink. "Friday, weekend... Lot's of free time, 'ya know? Might as well visit the mechanic yourself," he added deliberately, simply to further annoy his younger sibling.

It wasn't surprising at all when his sister let out another frustrated growl. To be frank, it was exactly what Steve had expected and, as the matter of fact, something he would never get tired of.

"It's not about fixing the car now! It's about you not keeping the promises!" The girl was fuming as she walked up to him. "I'm telling you that there's a problem, you're assuring me you'll help me with it, and what? Each time I start the engine, my pretty baby is wheezing and grunting like goddamn Sloth!"

Steve watched in amusement as his sister throws her hands in the air, only to mumble, "I thought sloths are usually really quiet."

The brunette stopped herself to blink twice at her brother's remark.

"I meant the character in the Goonies. You know, the one with fractured skull... Geez! You work in Family Video! You should've gotten the reference," she explained with a sigh, now anxiously stomping her feet.

"What?" Steve chuckled at the sight of his sister suddenly regaining her usual persona.

"Well, I'm waiting for you to drive me to school, idiot. I need to get there somehow," she answered with an excessive amount of confidence in her voice.

"You can always use your bike," he shrugged casually, grabbing, however, the keys to his BMW as he made his way towards the door. With a victorious grin, his sister followed him, mechanically walking up to the front seat of the car. "Hey! We're picking up Robin as well. You gotta sit in the backseat for being a pain in the ass," he added, watching her once again grimacing in disbelief at his antics.

"We could've not have this conversation if you did what you've promised," she murmured, eventually taking her seat in Steve's car.

A Tears for Fears song resounded when the vehicle started. It was immediately followed by Steve's cheeky humming as he made a U-turn, putting his sunglasses on at the same time.

"That's child endangerment," his sister remarked, noting how the maneuver was done with only one of his hands.

"Yeah, why do you think I did that?" Steve grinned from ear to ear, turning up the volume of the radio.

Bickering was something that often occurred between the Harrington siblings, whether done by sheer malice or purely out of boredom. It was a repetitive theme despite the indisputable status of their parents or, maybe, it was that exact spoken social expectation that made the sibling behave abruptly childish when left alone. Just as the two of them were frantically trying to hold onto the only relatively positive aspect of their lives — their carefree childhood.

It would have been an understatement to claim the Harringtons weren't living a comfortable life — quite the opposite actually. With their parents obtaining respectable positions that guaranteed a certain level of wealth, the siblings couldn't complain about lack of money, nor inability to pursue their hobbies. Neither of them were bullied because their upbringing or a particular item of clothing they decided to wear. Neither of them experienced the downsides of live other children at their age faced with everyday.

Due to all of the advantages the siblings had, it was almost impossible to complain about any inconvenience, no matter how grand. Moreover, that fact was making it excruciatingly hard for them to realize that, in fact, they both faced their own demons.

"Is dad coming home this weekend?" The tone in which the question was spoken utterly differed from the one used in conversation that had happened just a while ago.

"No clue. Besides, you're the one that should know. He likes you better," Steve muttered, glancing at his sister's reflection in the back mirror. His answer, however, didn't hold no envy nor jealousy. It was a mere stating of facts, which unfortunately still made his sister feeling a specific type of tingling in her chest.

Guilt.

Rivalry between the Harrington's appeared when they both were attending High School and ended as soon as Steve graduated. While telling his parents he wasn't looking forward to attend a university just yet, they abruptly cut off his allowance, claiming his two options now were to make up his mind, or simply find a job. Steve vividly remembered the agitation on his father's face when this conversation took place. Most importantly, he recalled him and his mother debating whether or not had him to move out. The only thing that made them change their minds was the calm voice of his younger sister, slowly talking them out of the idea. With the politeness of a grand duchess and the debate skills of an Oxford lawyer, the girl singlehandedly stopped a tragedy from happening...

...or that at least he had told Robin the first time she properly met his sister.

Properly, because the two of them were already acquainted with each other. After all, they were peers, attending quite a few classes together for the past three years, now going on four.

"Hi, Dingus... Oh, hi, Stacy!" The door of the car swung open as the voice of Robin Buckley greeted the Harrington siblings. Putting on a seatbelt, she squinted her eyes after ogling her classmate, "Why are you sitting in the backseat?" she asked, amused.

"Ask him, not me," Stacy Harrington shrugged, a sly smirk appearing on her face when she playfully grabbed the sides of her brother's face from behind. "Look at that shit-eating grin. So proud of bullying his little sister," she added with a false notion of hurt.

"Yeah, keep shaking my head. It's not like I'm driving or doing anything else that could potentially cause a car crash," Steve complained in a monotonous tone, causing Stacy to furrow her brow and pretend to choke him, her fingers never touching his neck.

"It's like watching a soap opera with the two of you," Robin exclaimed, her eyes wide open in pure diversion.

"Not my fault he's an airhead," Stacey scoffed.

"Not my fault she's mental," Steve replied in the exact same manner.

It was only a matter of another few minutes when the trio found themselves in the Hawkins High parking lot. With one more insult exchanged between the siblings before saying goodbye, Stacy got out of the car, holding onto her brown leather bag.

"So," Robin started after walking up to her. "Have a good day, Harrington."

The awkwardness with which the sentence was spoken equaled Stacy's response that contained of a quiet, "Yeah..." And even more inaudible, "You too."

Watching the dark-blonde girl disappear into the depth of a school corridor, Stacy tightened the grip on her bag. It had only been a few seconds before her timid expression vanished. The reason for the sudden change? The silhouettes of her classmates appearing on the horizon.

With a polite yet insincere smile she was used to, Stacy waved them hello after fleeing to the bathroom. With a deep sigh, the dark-haired girl rested her palms on the sink that had definitely seen better times.

Another day of being a coward, she thought to herself before she heard the bell ring.

She regretted not chatting with Robin Buckley after they got out of the car. She regretted not being able to drop the role she was still unwillingly pursuing. After all, the two high school seniors were parts of cliques that drastically differed, given not only their social status, but also the general idea of their characters; Robin wasn't popular amongst other students. She was a band geek, who wasn't afraid to reply with a snarky comment. Despite her coyness, she was almost always able to be her most authentic self.

Stacy's role, on the other hand, had been assigned to her the day she enrolled high school. With her brother Steve — formerly known as the King — Harrington, she didn't need to worry about venturing into the extraneous place that contained of stereotypes, social stigmas and, simultaneously, sweaty basketball players, aggressively slamming the door of a locker in front of her face. It came easy to her to find her way in high school after having it already paved by her older brother.

At first, it was like a dream come true — everyone smiling at her sight, not being targeted by the older kids. Herself, Stacy was quite an opinionated and bold teenager. Moreover, she had the audacity to speak her mind without being afraid to be raked over the coals. Therefore, she had gained a fair share of popularity — amongst classmates because of her charisma, and amongst teachers due to her academic skills. A picture perfect scenery, if you were to ask her just two years ago. An ideal high school experience, was what she would have said up until the last summer.

The last summer.

Stacy squinted her eyes in the middle of her math class.

Stacy thought being stuck in the other dimension with her brother and a bunch neighborhood kids last October was bad. She though learning about the existence of the Upside Down was just enough. That, however, did not prepare her for what she was about to witness. Every so often her memory was flooded by the horrid images of the Starcourt Mall massacre. The fire, the gunshots, the ginormous monster made out of the flesh of flayed Hawkins citizens.

And the little pink bow sticking out of its body. The little pink bow that belonged to her classmate, Heather.

Moreover, much like her brother, Stacy Harrington grew up. How could she not? After all, after witnessing what her eyes had seen was enough to mature anyone, especially a preppy girl, whose only concern was what to wear to the pep-rally. Now, her problems oscillated not only in the area of Hawkins High, but also consisted of the emotional trauma she couldn't share with anyone.

She found peace and serenity in cutting herself off of the social life. At least, to the amount that could still held her in favors of the school elite. After all, she saw what happened to her brother when he stopped being friends with Tommy and Carol — he was dethroned. Bullied even. Although King Steve would never admit that. Therefore, Stacy calculated what she needed to do in order to maintain both her peace of mind and the position. That being — occupying herself with school work and claiming she needed to focus on passing the finals flawlessly.

It wasn't a complete lie. Stacy consequently succeeded academically, learning bringing her genuine satisfaction. Now, however, it became an unstoppable coping mechanism. A last thread that was keeping her sane.

Today was no different than what she had gotten herself used to for the past year: get up, argue with Steve, attend classes. This is why she was now in cafeteria, sitting on the opposite side of the table Chrissy Cunningham was located at.

Cheerleaders and preppy girls. Something that used to be Stacy's pride, now ended up being a burden.

Munching on a piece of stale toast, she mindlessly looked up, her eyes trailing down the windows with Halloween decorations still on. Of course no one bothered to take them down, it was just a week after the holiday.

Her stare landed on the theatre kids spot. Stacy always admired the bold accessories some of them used to put on. For instance, today a girl, whose name couldn't pop up in Stacy's mind, was wearing an obnoxiously large black hat with flowers of the same color.

Then, she turned her gaze towards the band geeks amongst which Robin was seated at. All absorbed in a conversation, they shared smiles with each other. Smiles, that were far from sarcastically amused expression of the cheerleaders when they were gossiping.

Finally, her eyes travelled towards the direction of Dustin, Lucas and Mike, who were just about to put their trays down at the Dungeons and Dragons table. Her stare must have been obvious, hence her brother's curly-haired friend waved at her. In response, she raised her hand up, watching the eyes of the infamous Eddie Munson widening. With a chuckle, he gesticulated vividly while starting up a conversation with Henderson.

Returning her attention to her plate, Stacy looked down. There was no possibility she was ever going to be like these kids. Not bothered by anyone's opinion, not worrying about the social status, but most importantly — not being afraid to be themselves.

She, Stacy B. Harrington, was the biggest coward of them all. And the only thing she could do about it was live in never ending regret.

It took her another three classes to came to the conclusion that she couldn't keep her act anymore. Everything was leading to her downfall, and the only thing that could eventually stop her from reaching her breaking point was the notion of her completing the most idiotic plan she could currently came up with.

And Dustin Henderson was to blame for that. If it hadn't been for him waving at her, the idea would've never cluttered her mind.

With the sound of the last bell of the day, Stacy made her way towards her locker, waiting for a certain individual to show up. It took a few minutes for her to notice his silhouette approaching the lockers. To be complete frank, Stacy could've closed her eyes and still know it was him — the sound of a clinking chains attached to his belt was making it impossible to confuse Eddie Munson with any other person from Hawkins High.

There were numerous rumors surrounding his persona, as well as the club he was the leader of. Stacy recalled one of the cheerleaders claiming they sacrifice neighborhood babies for satanic rituals. Although this could be as well a poor joke told by someone of Jason Carver's sort. Disregarding the mass-frightening stories, Stacy could clearly see why people were resentful when it came to Eddie. After all, he did, in fact, repeat senior year once again this year. And that already added to his mysterious and formidable persona.

Yet, being a Harrington concluded Stacy was acting incredibly confident in times of possible danger. It so happened to be awfully extensive to the point where she was plainly making an idiot out of herself.

"Hi," she said as soon as she noticed Eddie closing his locker.

Apparently hearing her voice was so unexpected to him, he blinked rapidly before opening his mouth.

"My, my! Stacy Harrington giving me a heart attack on a Friday afternoon..." he started, the fact she truly scared him covered by his smooth-talk. "Can't say that something I'd ever imagined to happen, though I'm not mad," he chuckled.

Although the words naturally flew from his mouth, Eddie Munson had to admit that conversations with popular people were making him beyond uncomfortable.

"Well, I do have something to ask you for," Stacy replied, entertained by the exaggerated expressions he was displaying as they spoke.

"A few words more and I'll be convinced you weren't staring at our table today because of Henderson, but because of me," he smirked, observing how the girl in pleated blazer opened her mouth to appear slightly offended.

"I wasn't staring at anyone!" she argued in a playful tone, letting out a single giggle at the end of her exclamation.

"Sure. How could I possibly cause Miss Harrington of such things?" Eddie asked, dropping his eyes down for a second. "Anyway... cut to the chase," he added, standing up straight.

" I have this little green problem," she said with a serious tone but furrowed her brow as Eddie did not elaborate. "Purple Haze problem?" she tried to make another reference.

"Oh, you're a Jimi Hendrix fan?" Eddie exclaimed, toying with the fact that both Hendrix's song and a specific type of plant shared the same name.

"Don't make fun of me," Stacy reprimanded him, however, failed in keeping a stone expression.

"I'm not," Eddie defended himself. "It just has to be the weirdest way of someone asking me for some weed."

The girl scoffed, looking away for a brief moment, "Apologies for the lack of professionalism."

Eddie shook his head, maybe to appear more intimidating, maybe to cover the smile that was highly inappropriate for a drug dealer. "Meet me in my car in twenty. Just so, you know, none of your prim girlfriends will see you," he meant the last sentence as a joke, although it hit a bit too close too home for Stacy.

Nodding her head, they parted their ways, so as Stacy found herself once again in the school bathroom today. Glancing at her reflection, she quickly fixed her hair — another thing the Harrington siblings had in common. A neat coiffure, held in place by Farrah Fawcet's hairspray.

The twenty minutes Stacy was supposed to wait were dragging on substantially, equal to what waiting for a parent in a grocery store was like. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Stacy left the school grounds, making her way towards the well-known van. Knocking on the back door, she was immediately greeted by the sound of loud music.

"And that's all from being discrete," she murmured more to herself that to Eddie, taking a look at the insides of the car.

"What do you think about my humble vehicle?" he started up a conversation, placing a black metal box on the table inside.

Stacy placed her hands on her hips, taking a quick look around the van. "Spacious," she murmured.

"Comparing to that 'lil red Chevy of yours? Without a doubt," he smirked, shaking the two plastic bags he had just took out. "Any particular wishes? Let me just warn you, I don't have your Purple Haze," he teased her.

"Anything that's not mostly Incica, really," Stacy answered, taking a few steps closer to her classmate.

"Oh, what a connoisseur," Eddie murmured. Stacy couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Is Pineapple Express fine by you, buttercup?" he asked, showing her one of the bags.

"Yeah," she let out a chuckle at the nickname she was called.

"I normally do twenty bucks for half of an ounce..." Eddie started, getting up from the small table.

"That will do," Stacy interrupted him, opening her bag to search for the bank note.

Eddie tilted his head as he glanced over her. "I was about to give you a discount," he replied bluntly.

"Then keep the change for the splendid customer service," she shrugged.

For a split second Eddie Munson thought the time froze. All he could see was Stacy Harrington, looking up at him with the most genuine smile he had ever seen a girl like her display. The rays of sun that got inside of the van through the patchy blinds illuminated the locks of her hazel hair, causing her to appear almost magical.

So magical, in fact, that he didn't hear her repeating his name over three times by now.

"Sorry. I spaced out," he admitted, shaking his head as a promise of now listening to her clearly.

"Well, I figured it out," Stacy laughed, placing the money before him. "I was asking if you have any rolling papers," she repeated, taking her share of weed.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Eddie blabbered, reaching out to the drawer on top of the seating. Without asking, Stacy sat down the moment the tissue-like paper was handed out to her. Silently exuberant by her staying a while longer, Eddie took a spot beside her, watching as she carefully began rolling the blunt. "So, tell me... since when does Little Miss Perfect smoke dope?" he asked nonchalantly.

An amused grin appeared on Stacy's face before she even got a chance to answer. It was above surprising how much she smiled during her conversation with Eddie. "Since everything took a turn for the worse," she answered evasively.

"Yeah... I expect being on top of the class is really the worst that could happened," Eddie wondered, causing Stacy to immediately look at him.

"You know shit, Munson," she whispered in a defensive tone, sending him a reprimanding stare.

"Fuck, no, I didn't mean it as an insult," he was quick to defend himself the moment he realized he worded his sentence badly. "What I wanted to say is I just can't... imagine that."

His abrupt answer made Stacy's cheeks burn. Of course she exaggerated his words. She often had a tendency to get awfully preserving when it came to people doubting her. Something, that possibly appeared in her life due to not being able to tell others about her problems. After all, Stacy Harrington wasn't a person one could relate to. From the surface she seemed like a terribly shallow person, who didn't differ much from those, whose only intention was to achieve success, no matter the costs.

"Sorry," she muttered, apologizing. "I get really articulate when I'm focused," she added, showing Eddie her perfectly rolled blunt.

And just like the tension was never there, he chuckled, taking it from her to admire it in the better light, "Look at that! And I originally thought you're just a munchkin. You're full of surprises, Miss Harrington."

Getting up and bowing dramatically, Stacy giggled, "Comes in handy."

"Well," Eddie shook his head. "All I have to tell you now is to enjoy the product," he added in the same, over the top manner.

Smiling, Stacy grabbed her bag. However, before she decided to open the van doors, she turned back, facing Eddie, who now wore quite a confused expression.

"Everything's alright? Did you forget something?" he asked her quickly, concerned for the reason of her possible upset.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to smoke together," Stacy answered, watching's Eddie's eyes opening ever wider than before.

Without a word, just with a mere disbelief painted all over his face, he pointed — firstly at himself, then — at her. Not a second later he smirked, his locks covering his face, "You know what they say... don't get high on your own supply," he quoted.

"Like I'll believe you don't use your own stuff," Stacy scoffed. "Besides, you're not Tony Montana... So?"

Eddie shook his head once again, smirking to himself, "How can I refuse a girl, who's just got a Scarface reference?"

"That, my dear, is called a deal breaker," she responded, following Eddie to the front of the van.

"A hit dice," he corrected her, starting his car. "We'll drive just beside that part of the forest. Smoking on the school's parking lot is far too crazy... Even for Eddie the Freak," he explained quickly, spitting out the last part with a notion of sarcasm.

"That's quite a lofty nickname, isn't it?" Stacy asked, causing Eddie to glance at her for a spare second. "Awfully uncreative... but lofty," she corrected herself, smiling at the sounds of a song that just played on the radio.

"Lofty," Eddie repeated in a scoff, only to notice Stacy's hand traveling towards the head unit of his van. "Hey! No changing music in my car. I have full monopoly on what's playing," he stated half threateningly, half jokingly.

"Who said I was going to change it?" Stacy asked, almost like her former intentions were the clearest thing in the world.

"You weren't?"

The brunette giggled in disbelief. "I wanted to turn it up. I like this song... Dairy of a Madman is a good album in general," she admitted, watching Eddie displaying visible shock. "What?"

"You're shitting me," Eddie let out the air he was holding for definitely longer than he should. "There's no way you're listening to Ozzy Osbourne."

"Why?" Stacy asked light-heartedly as they found themselves in a more secluded area.

"Because you're... you," Eddie gesticulated vividly after stopping his car.

With a flick of her hair, Stacy got out of the van, waiting for her companion to join her as she lit up the blunt.

"I am me," she repeated his words. "Munson, you're not even high yet and you're already talking nonsense."

"Anything for you, I guess," he shrugged, inhaling their shared blunt.

"You know what?" Stacy chuckled at the sudden memory flooding her mind. "I do remember you way before high school, actually," she added, watching him scrunching his nose.

"Wasn't expecting to have a stalker. Especially not one in a form of Hawkins' pride and joy," he confessed leaning on the hood of his van.

"Yeah, I'm not sure about that joy part," Stacy chuckled, feeling an unwitting smile entering her face.

"Just look at you, buttercup. All happy and dandy." Eddie pointed at her expression.

"That's just the weed kicking in," she answered, which simultaneously was the worst idea she could possibly have, hence she choked on a huge cloud of smoke.

"Oi, here you had me thinking you were a professional," he teased her, gaining a nudge on the arm.

"Shit happens even to the best, okay?" she responded in the same tone.

A few minutes after, Stacy and Eddie found themselves sitting on the mulching ground, casually exchanging any thoughtful remarks their stimulated minds were telling them to vocalize. It was strangely calming to Stacy how the presence of a person she didn't exchange even a hello before had helped her become utterly tranquil. Of course, it was also the merit of the chemicals that now entered their bodies, however, despite being intoxicated Stacy could've concluded she wouldn't have been in such a positive state if it wasn't for the curly-haired metal head.

"So, you say you remember my little meek persona, huh?" Eddie asked, returning to the conversation they were having beforehand.

In response, Stacy's eyes wandered way above Eddie's head, landing somewhere in between of the branches.

"Yeah," she started in a dreamy tone. "Only your hair was a 'lil bit shorter," she spoke softly, catching with the corner of her eye how a smirk entered his face. "By 'lil bit I mean shittone. Like, way, way shorter. Non-existent even," she corrected herself, thinking his reaction was caused by her unclear response.

She had no idea, however, Eddie's expression was a reaction of a genuine surprise.

"You mean middle school?" He wanted to clarify and succeeded by watching her nod her head. "You're right. That buzz cut was ooglay," he agreed in an exaggerated tone.

"I never said it was ugly." Stacy crossed her arms. "Although I must say, you do look way better with your hair like that," she added, almost like she was complimenting an old friend, not a classmate she had never spoken a word with before.

"You think?" Eddie asked in a challenging tone, abruptly grabbing a handful of his locks as he covered his face with it.

She had forgotten how it felt to genuine laugh at someone's jokes. She had forgotten the feeling of excitement while discussing a certain topic. Moreover, she had forgotten how to relax.

"I like your blazer," Eddie spoke after a few minutes of silence.

"I stole it from my brother back in eight grade," Stacy disclosed, her voice lowered, almost like she was gossiping with her cheerleader friends.

"Oh, yeah, your brother..." he hummed in response, almost like he had completely forgotten about that instance. "How is he, by the way?"

"Just... you know... working," Stacy struggled to form a sentence as her glance was focused on the spot behind Eddie. "Look, I think that's a squirrel," she said confidently, pointing somewhere in front of her.

"Where?" He squinted his eyes in order to adjust his eyesight. "I don't see anything, buttercup. You're delusional," he added after a while.

"No, I'm not, Eddie! I swear that squirrel was there just a moment ago!" Stacy argued, however, not being able to stop laughing.

"Well, you surely scared it with your screaming by now... Where are you going?"

"Go through your things and look for some snacks," she replied innocently and jumped back in the vehicle.

"You won't find anything despite a few molded sandwiches!" Eddie called after her, adding to himself, "...and possibly some drugs."

Not a moment later he heard a noise of something metal hitting the ground.

"I didn't break anything!" Stacy reassured him. "Everything's under control!"

She had no idea that the last sentence would so hauntingly occupy her mind the day next.

It was a Saturday. One of the warmest one this November, actually. Her brown locks were sprawled across her back as she managed to finally unscrew the top part of the metal lid, covering the air filter. It was just around four in the evening when she returned from the mechanic with a newly bought substitute — a stark white filtering compartment, covered by silver pieces made to secure the device.

It was excruciatingly bold of her to presume she would manage to change it without anyone's help. But, with her persistent will and stupendous motivation caused by neither her father nor Steve being currently at home, Stacy Harrington gritted her teeth, calming herself down with the, "Everything's under control." In reality, however, she was silently cursing out whoever, who tightened the screws so hard, her knuckles were becoming white from trying to loosen them.

Ever since she could remember, Stacy was drawn to manual work such as preparing a volcano model for her middle school's talent show or plainly helping to fix the kitchen sink. Maybe that sudden enjoyment was the culprit of her current interest in science.

This, however, wasn't the case of today, considering the fact Stacy was now aggressively wiping off the grease she managed to get herself dirty with just a moment ago. Not being keen on smearing her Walkman with it, she rubbed the substance in her old jean shorts. Reaching just above her knees, the piece of clothing was completely out of style — something, her friends would immediately tease her about if she were to leave her house in them. To her benefit, today she could allow herself to look drastically different from usual; her hair were tied in a ponytail that already started to fell apart, the loose strands of hair making her appear like she had just rolled out of her bed. A flannel shirt she was wearing previously belonged to her father, therefore it was awfully big on her. In addition, its condition was far from satisfying. Holes in it were certainly contradicting her always-ironed shirts.

Stacy didn't expect to see anyone than her brother today. After all, their parents weren't going to be home this weekend. Therefore, she let out a loud gag of surprise the moment she heard a car pulling up. At first, she thought maybe it Steve, who ended his shift earlier. Yet she didn't even need to look up to know she was wrong — she could've flawlessly recognized the sound of his BMW engine. Then she came up with an idea someone had mistakenly driven near her house, stopping the car to ask for directions. Grabbing the hood of her car, simply to see the unexpected visitor, a grin appeared on her face the moment she noticed a van, parked just by the side of her driveway.

"Missed me already?" Stacy called teasingly.

"Sure I did, sweetheart," Eddie Munson answered. The confidence in Stacy's tone was so magnetizing, he couldn't help but smile with each step he took. "You forgot your blazer yesterday," he added, watching an expression of surprise paint all over her face.

"I did?" She asked in an over-dramatic tone, wiping her hands before taking her belongings from him. "Sorry for the trouble," she added, nodding towards the direction of his car.

"'S fine," he muttered, shoving his hands to his pockets. "It was a good excuse, though."

Stacy scrunched her nose, giggling silently, "Care to elaborate?"

"You know, just to see what Miss Hawkins does on her free time," he answered nonchalantly, glancing over her shoulder to take a look under the hood of her Chevrolet. "Again, that's the last thing I would've expected... Always thought girls like you..."

"Girls like me, huh?" Stacy smirked, interrupting him. "Is it somewhat a nice way of telling me I look like shit today?"

"Well, you look... different," Eddie responded with a shrug, yet immediately realized how his answer may have sounded. "I-It's a compliment, though," he corrected himself, vividly gesturing with one of his hands.

Stacy bursted into laughter the second she noticed how terrified his face look. Just as he was afraid to be faced with her being offended.

"No worries, I'm used to having and older brother, who insults me all of the time," she added while re-doing her ponytail.

Instead of thinking of an answer, Eddie carefully watched her every movement, captivated by the smoothness of it. He didn't know if it was the shorts with grease stains on them or her easygoing persona that caused her to appear more... reachable.

Eddie Munson wasn't a person, who took enjoyment in talking with popular kids. Quite the opposite, actually — the only times he found himself conversing with them were the short moments in the school's canteen. They mostly consisted of mutual short comments on each other differences — a response to bullying he had received ever since he could remember. It was exactly bullying that made his opinion on them unanimous, forming his approach towards them as hostile.

It was this exact fact that made him feel so off-track during those past two days. He expected Stacy Harrington to be just like the rest of her friends — mean and scary. After all he only recognized her from being a popular straight-A student, whose class he happened to find himself in when he failed his senior year. Again.

Yet, to his surprise, Stacy was standing right in front of him, laughing not at him, but because of him.

"Geez, this filter looks crusty," he commented, glancing over the already exchanged device, laying next to the red Chevrolet.

"And I was wondering why my car was making strange noises... Well, here's the culprit," Stacy chuckled, kicking the old air filter.

There was a moment of silence during which Eddie wondered if he should already leave. After all, he arrived here just to give back Stacy her blazer she left in his van while hazed by the weed they smoked yesterday. Yet, something —he couldn't exactly place what — made him want to stay just for a while longer. Purely to enjoy the presence of a girl, who caught his attention in such a peculiar way.

"How did I even manage to forget that?" Stacy laughed, pointing towards the direction of the blazer she messily threw behind the hood of the car.

"Actually, you did almost break the table inside," Eddie chuckled, watching an overly hurt expression paint on Stacy's face.

"I did not! I simply stumbled and..."

"Hey, Stace!" Both Stacy and Eddie turned towards the figure that just entered the Harrington's front yard.

"Oh, hi, Steve," the girl responded, wondering how she didn't notice her brother's car that was now parked just beside Eddie's van. "You got off duty early?" She added, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"Yeah..." Steve narrowed his eyes. "What's Munson doing here?" he asked the question that was on his mind the moment he left his car.

"I-uh, he came here to hand me my blazer," Stacy explained quickly, hoping the odd feeling of tension will leave her as soon as it appeared.

"Yup, the blazer," Eddie confirmed, sensing how strangely Stacy's persona changed as soon as she saw her brother.

"It's not drugs or anything, right?" Steve furrowed his brow even more, eyeing the curly-haired man. "Cause I swear to god, Stace, if you..."

"Jesus, why are you so weird about it?" His sister bursted out, just like she wasn't the one creating this specific atmosphere.

"Because how did he know it was yours?" Steve argued in a child-like tone, crossing his arms.

"It has your name written on the fucking tag!" Stacy replied, grabbing the clothing that previously belonged to her brother. The tag showed his name in a messy handwriting. The e's being the only letters written in lowercase.

"Yeah, of course," he snorted, shaking his head rapidly.

"Honestly, man, you need to cool down. It's not that big of a deal," Eddie inputed, however, his respond failed in resolving the strange exchange of words between the siblings. "She left it in..."

"School. In the English classroom," Stacy rapidly interrupted, not giving him a chance to finish.

"Yeah..." Eddie confirmed her lie, suddenly looking down to look at his boots that now were toying with the rocks on the driveway. "'S not like we're friends or anything. I mean, how could we? She's Miss Hawkins and I'm just your local drug dealer, right?"

It was his attempted joke that caused everything in Stacy body to stop function. Eddie was right — the two of them had completely different backgrounds. Moreover, the idea of them hanging out was one of the most abstract things one could imagine.

Yet still — his sudden change of tone, the lack of eye contact and, most importantly, the fact Stacy truly took liking to him made his answer something she couldn't bare.

But then, it hit her like a speeding train.

She couldn't object.

Not because she shared reservation towards Eddie Munson, but because she couldn't bring herself to admit her whole persona was a lie.

Had it be a streak of confidence, a mere ray of bravery that could let her be herself. That could let her be, who she truly wanted to be without caring about what others said. Without being afraid they'd exclude her.

Even if they meant her own brother right now.

Seemingly insignificant interaction put her in the most uncomfortable place she could possibly find herself in. Because agreeing on Eddie's explanation stopped being an excuse and started being the vocal factor of her inability to express her own self. A thing she couldn't come clear with from the moment she started giving doubts about her own social role.

With Steve's quiet whatever and him leaving the two alone, Stacy swallowed the gulp in her throat to prepare for apologizing to Eddie for the cumbersome instance. Yet, none of the things she wanted to say came out. Not even a single word.

Because of that, Eddie felt like he needed to be the one to break the silence that now became quite gruesome.

"Sorry... I'll stop bothering you, buttercup," he muttered, turning on his heel with an apologetic smile.

Stacy wanted to stop him. She wanted to reassure him he was not being a burden.

But instead of that, she murmured a silent bye, watching as he got into his van and drove away.

Sometimes, expectation could appear quite exorbitant. Especially when being the one that cannot bear their own cowardliness.

#eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson death #stranger things thoughts #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x harrington!oc #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

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techmiranda · 1 year

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Acknowledgement to other Cad Bane fics

I enjoy reading other people's fics, even if there's too little time to do it. I like how people create their stories, entvining existing characters into new stories. When writing my Cad Bane x OC fic I decided, that it's placed mostly to "lost years" after 19BBY (now somewhere around 4BBY), and there wouldn't be famous canon characters, no Jedis etc. in anything else, than mentions.

But, there are lot of good fics covering e.g Cad Bane x Obi Wan etc. and I wanted to give those stories framework, a tribute in my own fic, giving those stories a possibility to happen, and recognition even though my story goes a different path.

There's a lot of stuff about Bane & Obi Wan being friends, steamy stuff included or not, but still. So therefore I wanted to recognize that in my next story arch (wip):

“Have you heard yet, Lady?” Bane stepped in the Justifier’s cockpit where She was once again tweaking with the ship´s capacity threshold, completely dwelled in Her work.

“Hear what? You think I’m a Jedi or something, who can read your mind?” She glanced at Bane a tad annoyed when losing count with Her calculations.

“Well, you should be happy you are not, or we wouldn’t be here in Nar Shaddaa now, having this conversation, though I would be a hefty sum of credits richer.”

She smirked. “You haven’t delivered all the Jedi you know in the Empire’s hands… Maybe you would have made an exception with me too?” Her tease was amiable. Bane had some soft spots, even if the Duros never admitted it. It was only a few years back that Bane had revealed Her that there was one Jedi in Tatooine he knew about, and whom he visited from time to time. She had taken Bane’s revelation as a sign of significant trust, as the Empire was still, after all these years paying huge sums regarding any information of force users, especially regarding this particular Jedi. But, this one Bane wasn’t going to cash in, and She never asked his reasons, only letting Bane know this information was now safe with Her. “I know. You’ve shown how stubborn Eopi you are, even if there’s no need.” Bane had smirked.

“Lady, I would have sold you the first opportunity to save myself from your wisecracks!” He now responded with a toothy smirk.

She laughed out loud. “Fair enough. What haven't I heard, then?”"

So, thank you all who make SW fanfic, for stirring (also) my imagination. I have always had a need to make sense about things, and in my mind I somehow wish to give place for those other stories too.

The way I see it, different fanfic stories do not steal form each other, nor compete against one another, but can contribute to other stories.

#cad bane #cad bane x oc #star wars fanfiction #fanfic appreciation #other people's fic #other people's ocs #there's never too much SW content (and especially Cad Bane content)

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vibrantbirdy · 1 year

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Pursuit: A Ben Solo Star Wars Story - Chapter 1

Title: Pursuit Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi, Action/Adventure, Romance Setting: Post The Rise of Skywalker (Ben Solo lives!) Chapter: 1/? Main Character: Ben Solo (Kylo Ren) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, adventure peril, minor angst; any further warnings will be specified by chapter Main Pairings: Ben Solo/OC Other Pairings throughout: Mentions of Ben Solo (Kylo Ren)/Rey; Poe/Finn Author's Note: This is my first fic in probably 15 years and I really welcome any comments and advice, but please be constructive. :) Summary: Three years after surviving events on the planet Exegol, Ben Solo is carving out a solitary life for himself in the New Republic against the backdrop of reconstruction. His pursuance of quiet redemption is interrupted when a new threat to the Galaxy emerges from an old and terrifying enemy. With the help of new friends and unlikely allies, Ben must set out into Wild Space to defeat the darkness rising and put his own demons to rest once and for all. Pinned Post: Find all finished chapters here in future. Chapter 1 (Word Count: 3343)

The destruction of Emperor Palpatine and the Resistance victory over his monstrous fleet in the skies above the planet Exegol had set the hopes of millions alight across the Galaxy. Rebel heroes Poe Dameron and Finn wasted no time in grasping the opportunity, coordinating the downfall of the First Order's tyrannical regime from the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss. The First Order's grasp on the core worlds was first to topple and then uprisings spread throughout hundred of planets like wildfire. After the Resistance claimed their victory, reconstruction began in earnest. Three years since the fall of the First Order, work was underway to reinstate and rebuild the New Republic. Hope was rekindled in the galaxy.

And yet, as he lay awake in his cot bed staring at the grey ceiling of his ship, Ben Solo felt again a new disturbance in the Force. It had been gnawing at him for some months now - a mere whisper of the Dark Side. Ben's first thought was that these feelings were the tangible echoes of his past, the Sith Eternal reaching up with shadowy tendrils to reclaim him and drag him back down into the abyss. Panicked, his initial instinct had been to shut himself off from the Force completely. But as time passed, Ben realised that this was something else. Something that was both old and new...and terrifying. And whatever it was, it was growing stronger.

Ben sat up, trying to push the unnerving feelings from his mind. They were stirring up old and unwelcome memories. He shivered as the memory of Supreme Leader Snoke slipped unbidden into his thoughts. A misshapen clone experiment and Palpatine's puppet in disguise, Snoke had been a brutal master. Ben had been little more than a boy when Snoke first wormed his way into the conflicted teenager's mind and fashioned him into his war dog. Kylo Ren.

As Snoke's apprentice, Ren was moulded into an unpredictable force of nature through pain and fear and promises that the secrets of the Dark Side would one day be his to command, just like those before him...just like his grandfather.

“You're no Vader. You're just a child in a mask.”

Though Kylo Ren's anger had burned white-hot at the stinging words, Ben realised now just how true Snoke's taunt had been. Ren's acts of terrible violence were always bourne from either his selfish desire for power, a childish need to prove himself, or impulsive, uncontrollable rage.

Kylo Ren had wielded the Force like a blunt instrument. Unlike his master, Ren had never enjoyed the infliction of suffering. He had simply been blind to it. To Ren, other people's pain was insignificant. Those that suffered in his wake were no more than mere footnotes in his ascension to power.

To Ben now, that indifference seemed somehow worse than Snoke's overt malice. It shamed him to his core.

He exhaled sharply and stood up, banging his head off the canopy of the ship.

“Every time,” he muttered to himself, rubbing the tender spot through his black hair.

The Swift had been in Ben's possession for almost three years. In that time, he'd become fond of the old Allanar N4 freighter, yet his tall frame still felt clumsy when manoeuvring about the small vessel. He stretched and yawned, then sat down again, this time on the small, circular rug by his bed. He crossed his long legs, pushed his shaggy locks out of his face, and closed his eyes. The familiar hum of the homely little ship's engines lulled him into a comfortable connection with the Force and he sank into it.

Ben knew he could never again call himself a Jedi. Not after what Ren...what he had done. But he found new comfort in his growing connection to the Light Side of the Force. Through meditation he found he could quieten his mind, and through lightsaber drills, he kept it sharp and focused. He was more at home with the Force than ever before. It felt more like a constant companion, rather than something to wrangle into submission for use at his beck and call.

When time had felt right, Ben had sourced a blue kyber crystal from a black market dealer in the Black Spire Outpost on Batuu. He'd felt only slightly guilty about it – it was hard to locate kyber anywhere nowadays. In the two years since constructing a new lightsaber, he had never ignited the blade in public. He never planned to unless the need were dire. Instead, he practised on the Swift, or in deserted clearings on sparsely populated planets.

Kylo Ren's unique fighting technique, executed with that strange, volatile grace, was the only remnant of his past that Ben had not tried to purge from his being. While it looked unbalanced to an outsider, always teetering on the edge of control, Ben's forward learning stance, allowed him to use his height to its full advantage and throw all his weight into powerful offensive manoeuvrers. This constant forward momentum also provided him with opportunities to change position quickly if he needed to defend.

How he wished to be in the fresh air now, refining his form on some green world, his blade humming and singing in gentle chorus with the buzz of insects and the rustle of leaves...

Ben knew his mind was wandering. He tried to refocus. Since he'd first felt the disturbance in the Force, concentration during meditation had become more and more challenging. And now he felt the disruption again, needling at him.

Letting his curiosity get the better of him he leant into the strange feeling for the first time.

“What are you?” he whispered, frustrated.

Almost instantly, Ben regretted his decision. His brow furrowed and his breathing quickened as his stream of consciousness was plunged into a frozen darkness. He felt nothing but misery and turmoil and pain. Panic tightened across his chest. He snapped open his eyes but found he could no longer see. He clenched his fists, hoping to feel the familiar pile of the rug in his grasp, as if it would help him claw his way out of whatever nightmare he'd stumbled into. But there was nothing there to hold on to, just empty space. He was suspended in a black abyss.

A few unbearable seconds passed. Then, a figure, hooded and cloaked, loomed into view, appearing like a wraith in the darkness. Suddenly, the stranger ignited a lightsaber, blood red and dual bladed. The vibration of the blade resonated unpleasantly through Ben's body.

The figure started to advance at tremendous speed, blade trailing an ominous red glow behind it. Paralysed by surprise and disoriented by the gloom, it took Ben longer than he would have liked to realise he was now seated on a solid surface. He pushed himself up, staggering to his feet.

Painfully aware he had no weapon with which to defend himself, the only thing Ben could think to do was to charge and meet the attack headlong in hopes he could remove the distance between them before his assailant could land a blow with his saber.

The two collided violently. Ben grabbed the attacker's outstretched balancing arm and thrust it upwards, hoping to knock him off-kilter. With his other hand he grabbed at the strange, circular grip between the weapon's two blades and flinched internally as his fingers sunk into the cold, clammy flesh of his opponent's.

As they struggled, the black hood fell back off the assailant's head revealing a human face. The scarlet glow of the lightsaber illuminated the man's expression. He was probably no more than a few years older than Ben. He was completely bald, and his facial features were well-placed and strong in a way that might once have made him handsome. But the smile he wore was manic and too wide. His eyes were sunken, pupils set into small pinpricks of hate and irises a dull grey colour that reminded Ben of something dead. Like Palpatine.

The two men were locked in position, each trying to push the other off-balance and grunting with the exertion. Ben wasn't used to being overpowered physically in combat. His large frame meant that his opponents usually had to find other ways to best him if they were going to do it at all. But this man was at least a head taller than him and built like a Bantha.

“Traitor,” the man seethed through that awful, rigid smile. “Where are you?!”

The man roared the last syllable, and Ben's connection to the Force was severed with a sudden burst of energy so powerful it threw him backwards into the air. His body slammed against something hard and despite the pain, relief flooded through him when he realised it was the back wall of his sleeping quarters on the Swift.

Winded and panting like a wild animal, Ben struggled to stand. A single word formed on his tongue and he sounded it out breathlessly.

“Inquisitor.”

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

Ben sat on the step of the Swift's side door. He was chewing on a Meiloorun fruit as the ground crew of Exeus' main port loaded the ship with cargo through the back doors to the hold.

Compared to humans, Exeusians were diminutive in stature. They were bipedal, but sported astonishingly feline-like facial features, complete with fur, whiskers and a tail.

On any other world, Ben would usually help with the loading process, but the porters on Exeus were rigid, almost mechanical in their operations. The first time he had visited the planet for a scheduled pick up, he'd attempted to assist. For his troubles, he'd received a very stern telling off from the Chief who chastised him for hindering his operatives' perfected procedures.

He smiled to himself as he thought how ridiculous the scene must have looked to anyone watching. The tiny Chief had stormed up to a hapless Ben, jabbing a paw into his chest. Alarmed and unsure how to react, Ben had found himself backing up the cargo bay ramp and all the way through the ship, until, finally, he'd dropped into the pilot's chair, hands held up apologetically in surrender. He'd never dared to interfere since.

His smile faded as the troubling experience of the previous night came again to the forefront of his mind. As they often did when he felt lost, his thoughts then strayed back to events after the battle on Exegol.

Half-dead and exhausted, he and Rey had dragged each other slowly, agonisingly slowly out of Palpatine's collapsing tomb. Rey had flown back to the Resistance Base on Ajan Kloss in Luke's X-Wing, instructing Ben to follow an hour later and land, unseen, in a clearing a couple of klicks south. Ben still remembered waiting for her to appear out of the jungle, slumped against the wing of his stolen Tie Fighter, wondering what was to become of him and, in truth, not really caring.

After what seemed like aeons, Rey had emerged from the forest, the X-wing pilot, Dameron, and the ex-Stormtrooper, FN-2187 – Finn - they called him, by her side. The two men had been incandescent at the sight of him. Ben distinctly remembered Dameron's blaster pressed against the side of his head, the cold metal digging into the flesh with such force he'd felt a trickle of blood had run down his cheek. He'd been too tired to even care.

The anger of Dameron and Finn had softened marginally when Rey had explained Ben's part in Palpatine's downfall. And once Rey had told them how he'd brought her back to life, Ben saw in their faces that the two men each loved Rey deeply in their own way. They could never now see him only as the monster, Kylo Ren, in the way they really wanted to.

The Dyad in the Force he and Rey had once shared had not returned after Rey had been revived from death. But their personal bond was still painfully real. Rey had saved Ben from the Dark Side. From himself. Rey knew so intimately the terrible things he had done as Kylo Ren and she had saved him anyway.

As they sat together against the wing of the Tie in that clearing on Ajan Kloss, Rey told Ben her plan to set up a new Jedi Temple where younglings who were Force sensitive could learn the ways of the Force in safety. Ben knew she would excel at it. But he also knew that he couldn't be a part of that. And despite her own eagerness to absolve him of his transgressions, Rey understood why without him having to say it.

Ben was frightened of himself. Of not knowing who he was. Reeling and raw from the revelation that Palpatine was her own flesh and blood, Rey knew that feeling all too well.

“Don't tell me where...,” Ben had started to say before trailing off. “In case...”

“Just in case,” Rey had finished for him, smiling sadly.

Her hand reached up to his cheek and he brought his own up to rest on top of it. They stood like that for a long time before Ben broke gently away. Without looking back, he limped over to the freighter Dameron had quietly sourced for him from the Resistance fleet. He piloted it up and away from Ajan Kloss less than half a day since he had arrived, and he had not dared to look down in case he caught a glimpse of Rey standing alone, a solitary figure on the jungle moon's surface.

And so, Ben had carved out a living running cargo for the New Republic. Sometimes he would transport passengers and refugees. Few people had seen Kylo Ren without his helmet. Few people knew he was the son of Republic heroes Han Solo and Leia Organa. Rey had wanted to give Ben a chance to redeem himself. Dameron had wanted Ben to never stop working for that redemption. This job was the compromise. He was to be anonymous, stay under the radar, live quietly. A lifetime of service to the New Republic.

And kriff was Ben grateful to both of them for it.

Despite the secrecy of his new life, Ben felt a sense of liberation that he wasn't sure he deserved. Mostly, he kept his promise to stay out of trouble. Yet he couldn't help the thrill of boyish exhilaration that coursed through him whenever he had the occasional run-in with pirates or ne'er-do-wells during the times the job took him to the less reputable parts of the Galaxy.

He remembered how his father had revelled in risk and adventure. Ben had always known he'd inherited that trait from Han Solo. More and more, he also found his father's silver tongue coming naturally to him, especially when trouble called. At first, Ben had used the languid, Solo confidence as a mask. It was a defence mechanism to protect himself as he tried to figure out who he was. But now, it seemed to belong to him just as much as it had his father. Coupled with the quick-thinking and decisiveness his mother had passed down to him, Han and Leia's genes had certainly gotten him out of some serious scrapes now and again.

The guilt he felt surrounding his parents' deaths had never left him, and he knew it never would. It tempered his inherent Skywalker passion with a thoughtful reservation that was neither Han nor Leia's. But with each day he spent free from the oppression and turmoil of the Dark Side, Ben was learning to recognise the attributes his mother and father had gifted to him and to embrace them. He could never atone for the lives he had cut down and trodden over on his path to power, but he was determined to spend the rest of his life trying.

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

“Are you the pilot?”

The man sitting on the step of the freighter and staring intently at the half-eaten Meiloorun fruit he was holding jumped. Tallah thought that was strange. He didn't seem like someone who would startle easily. But then, he did have an odd aura about him.

On the one hand there was a comforting strength and a light emanating from him, as strong as she'd ever felt in anyone. On the other, there was a deep sadness and something else too...something hidden away in the dark that she wasn't sure she was brave enough to examine closer. Tallah's aunt, Ada, said adults were complicated like that sometimes, but this seemed to be something more.

“I'm the pilot,” he confirmed.

He had a slight quizzical look in his honey-coloured eyes, and Tallah knew she'd been caught in her scrutiny of him. That was also strange. Most adults didn't notice her prying, although Ada was always saying she needed to be more careful. Not everyone would understand Tallah's gift and it wasn't safe to be so obvious about it.

Tallah stuck out her hand, hoping to distract him with a business-like shake. He put the fruit he was holding down on the step and stood up to take her hand, which suddenly felt tiny as it was enveloped in his large but gentle grasp.

Everything about the man seemed big, and Tallah was convinced that it wasn't just because she was small for her nine years. He was very tall with impossibly wide shoulders. He even had a rather prominent nose. Still, it sat well with the other features on his long, stubbly face and Tallah decided he was probably handsome – if you cared about that sort of thing which she most certainly did not. But maybe Ada would like him.

“If you're travelling anywhere you need to make friends with the pilot,” Tallah said before qualifying, “At least that's what my aunt says... I wouldn't know, this is my first journey on a proper ship.”

“That's good advice,” he agreed.

Tallah noticed that the man sported a thin white line which cut across his face from the top of his right eye, continuing down his cheek and throat and under the neckline of his long sleeved grey shirt. He wasn't ashamed of the scar. It meant something important to him. Tallah was going to ask about it, but then thought better of it. That might be rude.

She turned away when the pilot's eyes lifted from hers, fixing on something behind her. Tallah felt her aunt's warm and comforting presence strong as ever, but there was a slight disruption to its usual constancy. She turned and saw Ada walking briskly towards them.

Ada seemed flustered and breathless and Tallah felt a pang of guilt as she remembered she'd forgotten to tell her where she was going...again. Her discomfort only grew when she realised her aunt was carrying both of their heavy travel packs. She'd just been so excited about seeing the ship they would be travelling on - she'd only ever been in pokey, cramped little shuttles before.

“Sorry, I hope she's not bothering you,” Ada said, smiling apologetically at the pilot before giving her niece an exasperated glance.

Tallah used her gift to cautiously probe her aunt's feelings. She'd been concerned, not angry - as usual. Tallah made a mental note not to run off unannounced again. She could handle herself, of course, but it was only considerate to let Ada know where she was going.

“No,” the man replied, and Tallah was pleased to feel that he genuinely meant it. “I'm Ben, I'll be taking you as far as Naboo.”

“I'm Ada, and this is Tallah, my niece.”

Ben and Ada shook hands and Tallah noticed an odd pause between them where neither seemed like they were ever going to let go.

Finally, Ben cleared his throat and stepped back up into the ship's doorway. This movement made him look like a giant, towering over them.

“Here,” he said reaching out to Ada, “I'll take those.”

“Thanks.”

Ada handed him the travel packs and looked down at Tallah.

“Ready to see the Galaxy, kid?”

Tallah beamed and nodded. She couldn't wait.

5 notes · View notes

nekoyuki666 · 1 year

Text

"True Way"

Anime: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x (oc)Shimizu Yuki

Genre: Supernatural powers, romance, angst, (very lame) detective

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, murder, dark

Summary: All Yuki ever wanted was to find her family. However, she knew that it was not gonna be easy. The only way she knew was through U.A. High, but she had never thought just how much more complicated things would get

Word count: 1936

A/N: This is my personal work with my original character for the main hero. I do not own the rest of the "MHA" characters

ANIME SPOILERS PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Chapter 1

"The U.A. High"

“… Y… Yuki…”

‘That voice… Who…?’

“Run!!!”

‘Why does it sound familiar?’

“THEY’LL KILL YOU!!! RUN!”

‘Why…?’

Cold sweat was mixing with heavy tears as they raced down towards the just-awoken girl’s pillow. The room was filled with the morning sun, tickling her face, the early breeze washing over her, granting her oh-so-much-needed oxygen. Choking down on her shallow breaths, she abruptly sat up, causing a headache to kick in. She felt her heart pound in her chest, as she clenched the cloak of her blanket, but a sudden knock on the door gave her little time to worry about it.

“Yuki!” A small, red-headed girl in a pink pajama barged in, immediately plopping down at the girl’s bed feet by her feet. “I heard you crying! Are you okay? Is it the nerves kicking you?”

“No…” She replied calmly, watching the red-headed girl’s fox tail wiggle and ears press down on her head. “Nothing to worry about, Ayumi, just a nightmare.”

“Oh… The same as before?” Ayumi’s voice was soft, yet full of concern. She sat up, deep green eyes looking straight ahead.

“Yeah… I… I can’t seem to remember who was it, but I feel like I know them…”

“What if it’s just a horror movie you watched before?” Orange tail proceeded to flutter from side to side.

“With my name in it? I don’t think so.”

“Oh! What if…” Suddenly a woman’s voice rang from outside the door, interrupting the theory-making train.

“Girls! If you don’t get up, you’re gonna be late for school!”

“Sorry, Mom! We’ll get ready in a second!” The fox-like girl jumped from the bed, excitedly dashing out to the bathroom. “Come on, Yuki! Today is a huge day!”

Exhaling a deep sigh, Yuki groaned quietly, rubbing her eyes. She was still half-asleep and half-shaken up. The unknown voice kept echoing in the back of her mind, making her anxious. She slowly got up from her bed, walking up to the full-height mirror by her desk. She looked the same. Short messy white hair with random blue strands that barely reached her shoulders, and bloodshot dark blue eyes with a hint of exhaustion. Somehow her light skin seemed even paler as if she had just been revived from the dead.

She headed to the bathroom to wash up and at least make herself look presentable. As Ayumi mentioned before, it was a big day for her. It was her first day at the U.A. High, №1 ranked high school for heroes in Japan. In a world, where superpowers exist, where having none would be considered weird, a Hero was the most prestigious profession. Everyone dreamed of becoming a hero, but very few people could ever reach this goal.

Shimizu Yuki was one of those few who got accepted.

And she didn’t plan on failing it.

~ ~ ~

Smoothening out her uniform, Yuki gazed at herself in the mirror for the last time before heading to get breakfast. The uniform itself was surprisingly stylish – a long-sleeve, button-up white shirt, a gray jacket with blue-green stripes, a red tie with a golden button on it, and a dark blue-green pleated skirt. Grabbing her school bag, she finally headed downstairs where she was greeted by a pleasant smell of bacon.

Her 14-year-old sister, Ayumi, was rocking excitedly on her chair. She squealed as soon as she saw Yuki entering the kitchen.

“YUKI, YOU LOOK AWESOME!” Ayumi exclaimed, earning a gentle but firm smack on the head with a wooden spoon.

“Ayumi, how many times have I told you to behave at the table?” That voice that called the girls out of Yuki’s room spoke sternly. The same fox-looking tall woman stared down at her daughter, raising an eyebrow.

“I know, mom, but I’m just so excited! Can you believe it?! Yuki is gonna be the best hero out there!” She smiled, mimicking the superhero pose.

“Yes, she will.” The woman smiled, as she took off her apron, then served two plates with bacon and scrambled eggs, a bowl of rice, a plate of green salad, and two pairs of chopsticks. “Here! Eat up, then you two better hurry.”

“Thank you for the food!” Two girls exclaimed in unison, immediately beginning to eat.

“Are you nervous?” Sitting up, the woman said gently, resting her chin on her palm.

“A little bit… But I don’t think the first day is gonna be that difficult. Better tell me, where’s dad? Is he asleep yet?” Yuki said, shoving a piece of bacon in her mouth.

“Ahh, he said something about an urgent meeting, so he left extra early. But he made me promise to pass you the good luck and a hug.” A sly smile made its way to her smooth face, showing off her canines.

“I see.”

~ ~ ~

Sliding the giant door open, Yuki stepped into the bright classroom. She was 15 minutes early, but there were quite a lot of students present already. Most of them she fairly remembered from the entrance exam.

She looked around, searching for her seat, nerves finally beginning to wreck her. Sitting up in her seat, she put her chin on her hands, observing her new classmates.

“Hello there!” One of the girls suddenly approached her, a wide smile on her face. Her skin was a light shade of pink, her eyes were black sclera and yellow irises, short fluffy, and unruly pink hair which was slightly darker than her skin. She also had two thin pale yellow horns protruding from her head. “My name is Ashido Mina! Call me Mina! What’s yours?”

“Oh!” Yuki stood up from her seat to introduce herself. Bowing slightly, she smiled back at the alien-looking girl. “I’m Shimizu Yuki, you can call me Yuki. Nice to meet you.”

“You too! What’s your quirk? I bet it’s awesome!” She clenched her fists in front of her enthusiastically, which kind of reminded Yuki of her sister.

“I uhmm…”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to put your feet on the table!” Whipping her head toward the voice that interrupted her, Yuki witnessed a typical scene of a right man and a delinquent, who then began growling at a new person with green hair appearing at the door. There was also a cute brown-haired girl with a round face behind him.

The blonde delinquent started screaming, making the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable. The green-haired boy was panicking, nearly scared for his life. The two almost started a fight, but the fire between them was quickly put out by a homeless-looking man who all of a sudden appeared at the door lying in a yellow sleeping bag on a concrete floor.

As it turned out, the person who looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, was their curator. He looked exhausted. However, his voice, his attitude, and his gaze had that authoritative aura for an unknown reason. He introduced himself as Aizawa Shota and immediately commanded the whole class to change into their sports uniform, and then walk to the P.E. grounds by the school.

~ ~ ~

“I’m so hungry!” Mina sighed, dragging her feet out of the classroom. “Who would’ve thought that we’ll be having a quirk apprehension test on the first day!”

“Yeah… But at least, we all passed, so nothing to be scared of. Although, after today you can expect everything from U.A.” Yuki packed everything in her school bag, then flung it over her shoulder. “Doesn’t it make you a little worried?”

“Hmmm” Mina put her index finger to her chin, thinking. “Who knows? But it’s very exciting, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Yuki smiled gently, exiting the classroom.

“Just maybe?” Black eyes gazed at Yuki in pure confusion.

“Sorry, it must have come out a little insensitive.” Shimizu smiled apologetically, stepping out of the building. “But to be honest, I don’t think I’m cut out for the hero work, so I don’t have such strong feelings as you guys…”

“Huh?! Then why did you enroll in U.A.?!”

“Uhhh…” Yuki rubbed the back of her neck, nervously. “It’s a little personal if you don’t mind.”

“But I’m curious now!” She pouted and proceeded to swing her arms up and down. “Fine! But I’ll get back to it sometime later! Where’s your station?”

“It’s that way.” Yuki said pointing to the right. “What about you?”

“Oh snap! I’m going that way…” Pink finger going the opposite way. Mina’s pout grew even more. “All right… I’ll see you tomorrow then! Bye!”

“Oh, bye. Take care.” Yuki waved at the vanishing figure, then began walking towards the subway.

It was a nice evening. The yellow sky with a beautiful orange gradient set up a calming atmosphere after an eventful day, a warm breeze winding up white hair in the air. No matter what time of the day it was, people were always in a rush, not paying attention to what was happening around them.

Yuki, unlike some, enjoyed times like those – peacefully walking, almost floating, simply enjoying the atmosphere.

However, soon enough her attention was caught by a familiar red-white hair walking ahead of her in the distance. She frowned a little bit, trying to remember his name. Shoto, was it? He was walking fairly fast, but for some reason, Yuki decided to catch up to him, quickening her pace.

“Todoroki!” She appeared beside him, slightly startling the boy.

“Oh, Shimizu, right?” His surprised heterochromic eyes scanned his classmate for an answer to his non-verbal question.

“I prefer Yuki. That feels more natural.” She fixed her messy, from a little run, hair, walking now by his side. “I just saw you going in the direction of my station, and thought maybe we might as well go together.”

“Oh.” Was all he said before sealing his mouth shut.

“You did amazing on the quirk apprehension test.”

“Thanks.”

“Your quirk is awesome too.” Yuki uttered nonchalantly, making Shoto stop in his track. His facial expression suddenly changed. A hint of anger was visible on his face.

“…Thanks.”

“I’m just saying how it is. I’ve also heard that you got in through recommendation, so that means you’re also super strong.”

“What about you though?” Todoroki asked all of a sudden. His head turned to look at the girl walking beside him.

“Me? Well, I passed the entrance exam, so I guess you can say I’m pretty strong.” She said confidently, looking up at the sky. ‘I must be…’

“I see.”

The rest of the walk to the station went in a complete, yet comforting silence. Both of them were thinking of their own matters. She was thinking of the first day at the top Hero Academy, and he was thinking of why would a stranger decide to walk and have a talk with him. Even if it was unexpected, he didn’t mind too much.

“See you tomorrow, Todoroki.” Yuki waved her goodbye, stepping onto the train.

“Bye.” Again, that was all he said before going the opposite way.

The whole ride Yuki was thinking of him. Something in his eyes caught her attention. And it wasn’t the fact that his eyes were mysteriously mesmerizing, but also full of unknown emotions she couldn’t quite catch. She stood, holding the rails, as the subway car swayed from side to side.

Something in Todoroki Shoto was alluring.

Even as she stepped onto the porch of her house, she kept thinking about what was in him that got him stuck in her mind like that.

That was until Yuki opened the door, and was instantly greeted by a loud scream, as orange flashed before her eyes, tackling the future hero to the ground.

“HOW WAS TODAY???”

3 notes · View notes

authoruio · 2 years

Text

◦ ✎ Hopeful(ly)

✑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Main story: Kingdom

Oneshot

Takes place in the epilogue (which will happen at the veeeryy far future lol I just wanted to write this)

Characters (They are my OCs ^^): South & Haonn

The others are just mentioned

Warning: none

Theme/s: slight Implied trauma, can this be considered fluff? I think, fluff no plot,

South finally has his peace but something seems to be troubling him. Good thing his friend, Haonn is there to help(?)

Just Haonn and South having a peaceful rest.

✑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Just our plain redhead protagonist resting...

Laying down on the soft grass that dances with the wind. With the sun basking him within the fluffy clouds, giving just the right amount of light. It was South's favorite thing to do.

South had expected his time to never favor him again. With him always losing his chance, he didn't really know when he could do what he have always wanted.

Lazing around with nothing to worry.

Everything in tranquility.

Finally...

He could finally breathe in peace. A time just for him.

How long has it been since he's been able to rest at times like this?

Too long.

Too many days to count by fingers or just in general.

He doesn't want to let go of this moment.

South blinked his eyes closed. Basking himself in the comforting touch of nature. The warm sensation of it caressing him, with it surrounding its force. South really find comfort on the strangest things, doesn't he?

Sigh,

just... let me rest.

At least, he knows the world still favors him. Somehow.

...

A shadow overcasts on top of him, disturbing the warm light parading his face, prompting South to curiously peek. He really wished he didn't, really.

A wry smirk made its way to his narrowed vision. Him, narrowing his sight more after seeing those closed smiling eyes.

"Now, now, Don't fall asleep out in the open." A man with blue hair with red streaks simpered. Hands hidden to his coat, looking down on South.

Those simple words should've irritated him already however he, had no energy to argue.

"I'm tired today. Leave me alone." South replied. Nothing coated within his words surprised the man. Eye widened continuing to stare at him. His words held no pretense, genuine expression of fatigue made the man scoff in surprise. "...Well that is surprisingly strange."

Joining South in his restful lazing, he squatted down, crossing his legs as he stared at the blue sky with him with his arms supporting him.

'How rare for him to join me without pretty much banter.' South snorted.

However, South enjoyed the silence and the presence of his friend, not caring to say anything. The swaying soft feeling of the field made everything feel nostalgic.

His friend kept the atmosphere undisturbed.

At least his friend really knew how to read the mood.

The silence continued with the wind carrying away the bad air of dread. However, his friend did not have any plans of elongating his stay.

The silence cont

"Hey." He called, unusual from the annoyed, sardonic tone he expected, yet South did not find it. "Yeah?" He replied.

Now closing his eyes, not minding the man next to him, as his eyes continued to drape.

"Is there something on your mind?"

South stared shock even with his eyelids closed.

Something?

Well South is pretty sure it's somethings. All the happenings from the past haunts him.

Of course everything is in his mind.

He just didn't know how to deal with it.

It was just a simple question he could always deny. With Haonn, he could pretty much deny everything. Yet, why can't he say it now? Why does he have this heavy feeling clutching his chest?

Opening his eyes, They both looked at each other, basking at the awkward silence, not muttering any word.

It's nothing, really.

He mumbled. Eyes still observing the blue above.

...

Wait, did Haonn even hear it?

Shit, Haonn didn't, didn't he?

Quickly rising up, he hurriedly went to deny only to be stopped and cut by his friend.

"It's Nothing—"

"Right, I'll take that silence as a yes."

Agape, he could only watch as his friend shook his head exasperatedly.

South mumbled incoherent words along side annoyance.

"So, pray do tell?" With his signature sardonic smile, South relented to not telling. "No."

His friend clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes however, gaze not leaving the redhead.

"How the hell am I suppose to help then?" South deadpanned stared back at the blue eye looking back at him. Was he seriously asking that?

"I didn't ask for your help." He pointed. Not taking any chances to be annoyed with the sardonic librarian. "And? I did not ask your opinion."

"..." South raised an eyebrow making Haonn heave a sigh.

"Can we go back to that comforting silence?" South shook his head in disbelief but did not say anything else.

Why would Haonn bother to ask?

...

South wanted to say a final thing before he drowse off.

'Thank you for...'

However he could not find the right words for it, and the feeling of need to say it to Haonn, right now.

...

'Let's just... shut up and enjoy this silence.'

...

✑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly, I do question myself too, this just came out of my mind lol

#original work #original characters #oneshot #kingdom #south #fluff #art #artwork #◦❧ ui arts

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lillianawayne99 · 8 months

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CastAway Chapter 23

Pairing: Gojo, Itadori, Sukuna, Nanami X OC

Genre: Action Romance

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Teacher-Student relationship, canon with a twist, reverse harem, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, major character death, smut chapters will have specific warnings

Synopsis: Calliope, a wolf in sheep's clothing, enrolls at Jujutsu Tech to protect herself from a world she's never seen before. In her efforts to stay alive, she finds relationships that could mend her soul or tear her apart.

Previous Chapter // CastAway // Masterlist

Gojo noticed the tense atmosphere when Yuuji and I got back. While Yuuji and I went to shower and change into more comfortable clothes, Nanami explained to him what happened before leaving.

Once we finished and came down for dinner, Gojo tried to lighten the mood at first. Quickly realizing we weren’t having it, he gave up and focused on supporting and comforting us. Since I was handling it better, Gojo concentrated his efforts on Yuuji.

This wasn’t my first time killing someone, and technically the transfigured humans were already dead. It was never easy killing someone, but once you’d crossed the line, there’s no coming back. The first time was the hardest, Yuuji’s struggle accepting what he did reminded me of that.

I didn’t feel guilty for ending the curse on those people. Instead, I was shaken by how mutilated their souls were. I knew Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration worked by manipulating the soul, but seeing the effects of it rattled me more than I’d expected.

It took me hours to fall asleep, tossing and turning while Gojo and Yuuji quickly fell asleep in each other’s arms. When I finally succumbed to darkness, it didn’t last long. My body rested, but I recognized the feeling of being pulled into someone’s Domain.

Expecting it to be Sukuna checking on me and asking about what happened today, I was surprised to ‘wake’ to warm sunlight blocked by an umbrella.

I was lying on a sun lounger in a long, layered kimono I didn't recognize with the smell of salt in the air. Sitting up, an endless expanse of calm, blue water stretched out as far as I could see. There were a few feet of sand in between the lounger and ocean. When I turned to the side, a man I didn’t recognize sat in a matching lounger beside me.

He wore traditional Buddhist robes from the Heian era, his hair was long and dark, and he had thin, dark colored eyes. With the way he sat, feet in the sand and leaning forward, it was clear he was expecting me.

“What is this place?” I broke the silence, diving straight into questioning him and his intentions.

“Does it matter?” He deflected calmly, tilting his head to the side as his eyes raked along my form.

“I think I deserve to know if I’m in someone’s Domain,” I responded while turning my body to face him, swinging my legs over the lounger to place my bare feet in the warm sand.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” His lips curled into a hint of a smirk.

“You’re avoiding the question.” I resisted the urge to snap at him, my eyes narrowing as I fought to keep my tone even.

“Is the location what you should be concerned with right now? Don’t you have more important questions? Such as who I am? Why you’re here? How long I’ve been watching you and why?” The man’s dark eyes narrowed slightly in amusement. Somehow, the mixture of his expression and posture reminded me of a confused dog.

I huffed quietly and shifted to look out at the ocean. The surface was unnaturally calm, gently lapping at the shore with no waves in sight. The sky was perfectly blue and clear with a light spattering of white clouds. Despite the calm, comforting atmosphere, there was an unmistakable heaviness in the air from cursed energy.

Was this an Innate Domain? Did this man trust me or his abilities enough to let me inside his mind? Or was this a Domain Expansion where he could attack me if I proved uncooperative? It was safer to assume the worst case scenario.

“Who are you?” I finally asked, turning back to see his lips curl into a cold smile.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” He deflected my question once again.

What was the point of offering questions he considered more important if he wouldn’t answer them? Why did he admit to stalking me? Why did he bring me here if he wouldn’t talk to me? I had so many questions, and no indication he would answer them. Since I was stuck here until he released me, all I could do was keep trying or sit in awkward silence.

“Why am I here?” As the words left my lips, his smile turned warm and proud. I must have finally asked the right question.

“I have a proposal for you.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs.

“I’m not interested,” I immediately deflected. Did this man seriously think he could kidnap me, admit to stalking me, avoid my questions, and then ask me to help him?

His smile turned calculating as his eyes narrowed. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or liked a challenge. Possibly a bit of both.

“I think you’ll be very interested once you hear what I have to say,” He prodded.

With a soft grunt and another glance at the ocean, I decided to at least hear him out. “Get on with it then.”

“I want to bring Ryomen Sukuna back,” The man’s voice was perfectly calm, but his declaration sent a shiver down my spine.

What the fuck was he thinking? Bring Sukuna back? He’s already a few steps away from reincarnation, trapped inside Yuuji. Did he know or suspect I was capable of separating them? Was that why I was here? To be convinced to release Sukuna?

“Why?” I asked cautiously, but he shook his head and turned to gaze out at the ocean. “If you won’t explain, you may as well send me back because I won’t even consider helping you.”

Based on the way his gaze snapped back to me, his brows furrowed and lips pursed, I’d gotten his attention.

“And I need your name. You know mine, don’t you? It’s only fair.” I pressed, using his frustration to figure out who he was.

“You may call me Getou,” He finally conceded, albeit begrudgingly. “As for my reasoning …”

His voice trailed off as he turned to stare at the endless expanse of ocean and blue sky. The way his expression softened slightly indicated this place meant something to him. There was pain and nostalgia in his eyes and set of his lips, but it was gone when he looked back at me.

“I want to rid the world of curses,” He stated calmly.

I bursted into laughter at the ridiculousness of what he’d said. Use a curse, the King of Curses, to rid the world of his own kind? Whatever drugs he’d taken, part of me wanted to try them to attempt to understand his reasoning.

As I shook and held my sides, I didn’t notice him stand and approach me until he’d tightly grasped my face in his hand. Getou squeezed and roughly jerked my head up so I was looking at him, but the determination and anger in his eyes only made me laugh harder.

“Use … the King … of Curses … to get rid … of curses?” I choked out between laughs. “You’re crazy!”

His gaze hardened and fingers tightened harshly before he let me go, shoving me slightly. The moment he had space, the back of his hand smacked against my cheek. The harsh slap knocked the humor out of me.

I instinctively kicked sand at him and glared up into his eyes. Our expressions mirrored each others’. Brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and lips taut.

“What the fuck was that for?!” I snapped at him.

He simply glared down at me, a hint of regret in his eyes when he noticed the red mark on my cheek. With a quiet scoff, he sat back down. Placing his elbow on his thigh, Getou rested his chin in the palm of his hand and studied me.

Realizing he wouldn’t answer, I decided to try a different approach. “What’s my role in this?”

He perked up immediately, his expression lightening as he thought about his batshit crazy plan. “He listens to you, doesn’t he?”

Sukuna, listen to me? My confusion must have shown on my face with the way Getou sighed. Getting uncomfortable, I shifted to place my hands on the sun lounger and leaned back. I was finally getting answers, and yet this was going nowhere.

“He does what he wants,” I responded flatly.

“And he wants you,” Getou elaborated, barely.

“So?” I tilted my head slightly, hoping for more, but Getou stared at me while I contemplated his reasoning. “Do you really think the King of Curses would listen to me, for what? To get between my legs? To manipulate me into doing what he wants? What is it you think he wants with me?”

The way his expression began to soften meant I was on the right track, but not quite there. Getou shifted to rest his arms on his legs, leaning towards me, as he finally gave me a straight answer. “A queen.”

I froze at his admission. A queen? What would Sukuna need a queen for? He’s strong enough on his own. He’s a thousand year old curse. He may have been human before, and still enjoys carnal pleasures, but he hadn’t been in touch with his emotions since he became a curse, if he ever was.

Did Getou think Sukuna’s former humanity meant he was capable of love? Or he wanted a partner in crime, someone to birth an heir, or both? I didn’t think he’d feel the need for either of those. Did curses get lonely or want to pass on their knowledge? Were they capable of that?

“Or a pawn,” Getou’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “But he wouldn’t listen to a pawn, would he?”

I stared at Getou while what he’d implied sank in. How much had he seen, heard? How long had he been watching? From what he’d said, it was safe to assume he’d been keeping an eye on Yuuji since he consumed Sukuna’s finger. He most likely adjusted his tactics to include me in his plans as well.

“Is that all you want from me? To convince Sukuna to join you?” With how forthcoming Getou had been recently, I’d hoped he would continue to answer my questions, but he only stared at me. “Why would I be interested in this?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Getou asked, curiosity and confidence in his gaze.

I stayed silent and stared him down. Once again, the question on my mind was how long had he been watching me. What had this man seen to make these assumptions about my relationship with Sukuna?

“I’ll see you around, little mouse,” Getou dismissed me with a calculating smile, and I was finally released from his Domain to sleep in peace.

Next Chapter

#jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #getou fanfic #sukuna fanfic #yuuji fanfic #gojo fanfic #calliope davis #lilliwrites

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luminnara · 3 years

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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega! reader Part 2

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part one | Part two | Part three |

Warnings: NSFW, Knotting, ABO

Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch

The soldier’s rut seemed to come around on a perfect schedule. Like clockwork, every few months Amoretta would be pulled out of her usual living space and sent to the rutting cell to wait for him. Sometimes, he came in smelling fresh and clean, like they had just hosed him down. Other times, he was covered in dirt and blood, most of which didn’t seem to be his own. She didn’t care; her heart soared every time she heard his heavy boots stomping towards her, and she always faced him with a confident, even gaze.

They would spend his rut together, the soldier knotting her over and over until it passed. He grew bolder with her, showing her affection she never thought he was capable of. He would carefully lay her down on her side so that he could curl around her, waiting for his knot to go down so that he could start all over again. His hands became increasingly gentle, calloused fingertips brushing over her folds carefully as he tried to pull those beautiful moans out of her throat.

He often succeeded; Amoretta woke up to his touch more times than she could count, her thighs already trembling as he played with her clit. The soldier was good at getting her ready for him, though she was almost always prepared to take his cock anyways. Her body responded to him eagerly, slick always pooling between her legs whenever he was nearby. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if HYDRA didn’t have her on so many heat suppressants.

Even without her hormones raging, she was falling for him. He was big and strong and protective, always putting himself between her and the guards whenever they appeared in the doorway. If it weren’t for his trigger words, Amoretta was positive he would tear them apart before they even got close to her. Did that mean he felt the same way about her, too? Or was she just being a silly omega, stuck in a cold series of tunnels, latching onto the only alpha she was ever permitted contact with?

She couldn’t tell.

She didn’t really care.

All she knew was that she wanted him. She had begun looking forward to his ruts, and by the end of her first year in captivity, her body had begun being able to predict when they were coming without the use of a calendar. It was like waking up on Christmas Day, excitement flooding her while she waited for the guards to come let her out of her cell. It always put her in a good mood, knowing that she was about to see the one person who seemed to care about her in that godforsaken place.

And he did.

He cared.

Whenever he saw her, the soldier felt his chest swelling with happiness. There were no bond marks on either of them, but she was his, and she knew it. His omega knew that he was there to keep her safe. He was driven by a simple urge to take care of her whenever he saw her, his need to protect her always taking over his mind. She was so much smaller than him, but she took him so well and fit so perfectly against his chest when they laid together. He never wanted it to end.

“Alpha?” She asked one night, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His knot had gone down a little while earlier, but he was too exhausted by a full day of fucking to go at it again yet. Instead, he was dozing, an arm draped over her protectively while she snuggled up against his chest.

“Hm?” He grunted, cracking an eye open.

“Do you…” she sighed. “Never mind.”

He was fully awake now, both eyes open as he looked at her. “Do I what?”

She bit her lip, feeling stupid. “Do you think we would be together outside of this place?”

He was silent as he thought about it. He didn’t know anything other than HYDRA. Shit, he had never stopped to wonder if there was anything other than HYDRA. Did he have a life besides killing? He had no memory of it, if he did.

“I’m sorry, it’s dumb.” Amoretta said, burying her face against his chest. “Forget it.”

“‘Mega,” his chest rumbled with the word. “It’s not dumb.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?” She huffed.

He snorted quietly. There it was again. That brazen attitude she always had.

“Because...I don’t remember anything outside of this.” He finally said.

Amoretta looked at him. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s always been HYDRA.” He didn’t sound too concerned.

She frowned. “Well...if it wasn’t. If we were just two normal people.”

“Normal?”

“You know.” She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Just...two people, living in a city—“

“New York.” He interrupted quietly.

She paused. “New York?”

“A city. To live in.” He said. “New York.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Why would he choose New York? It was a large city, to be sure, but it seemed out of character for him to interrupt with something like that, especially considering that they were currently being kept somewhere under Eastern Europe. They were as far away from the States as they could get, and she had expected to be talking about someplace like Paris, or Moscow, or Berlin.

She knew the soldier was someone HYDRA had captured a while ago, which meant he had to have had some sort of life before they pumped him full of the serum. Could this be part of it? Was he...remembering? If he was, she wanted to know more. All HYDRA used her for was getting their asset through his ruts, so she had plenty of time to think, and plenty more time to be curious. The most interesting thing in the compound with her was him, and she had spent hours just wondering about him. This could be her chance to actually get him talking about something other than rutting, and she wanted to encourage more.

“Okay, New York.” She said, a reassuring hand on his arm. “What part?”

He thought for a moment, trying to concentrate. “Brooklyn.”

“Why Brooklyn?”

The soldier shrugged. “Heard about it. I think.”

“Never been there?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Hmph.” She played with a strand of his dark hair. “If we lived in Brooklyn, what kind of life would we have?”

“A house,” he said.

“We’d have a house?”

He nodded, his nose finding the scent gland on her neck and rubbing against it. “Filled with lots...and lots...of pups…”

Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately felt heat coiling around in her belly. She couldn’t help it; she was pre programmed to get excited at the concept of being bred. Even without her heats, the thought filled her chest with butterflies.

“Wanna breed you…” his voice pulled her back to reality.

Amoretta licked her lips, grinning. “Then breed me, Alpha.”

He let out a playful growl, somehow finding the strength to roll her onto her front and grab her hips. He held onto her tightly enough to leave little red marks, but he never had to worry; she was strong. She was made for him. He knew that she could take whatever he gave her.

“Want my knot?” The soldier asked, toying with her wet folds for a few moments before he shoved his cock inside of her.

“Y-yes, Alpha!” She squealed, pussy immediately tightening around him. She had grown so used to his size by now, she hardly even needed any preparation to take him. Her body accepted his girth eagerly, wanting nothing more than to feel his knot catching on her.

He groaned appreciatively as he began thrusting in and out of her, setting a lazy pace for himself. “‘M gonna fill you up, Omega...gonna fill you up, get you nice and pupped…”

Her cheeks were flushed as she listened to him, skin burning as her alpha fucked her. She loved the sound of his voice. She loved everything about him.

“Please,” she moaned, melting down against the sheets.

“Yeah?” He let go of her hips, moving both hands to hold her ass. He gave it a squeeze, chest rumbling happily at the feeling of so much supple flesh in his grip. “Fuck, omega...my pretty ‘mega…”

She sighed happily, her pussy squeezing his cock as a little orgasm fluttered through her. He was good at that, and giving her those tiny little ones every so often with nothing but his words.

He snarled at the feeling. He wanted more.

A metal hand snaked around her front, finding her clit and rubbing it roughly. She immediately cried out, surprised by the sudden stimulation, and it wasn’t long before her thighs were shaking and she was a moaning, crying mess underneath her soldier. How did he know what to do? Why did he even care if she got off, when she was only there to please him?

He had to be more than just a flesh and bone HYDRA machine. She knew he had to be.

As she tipped over the edge, he followed close behind, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he bit into her shoulder. The pain felt dull, despite his massive fangs tearing into her. It always did; Amoretta was never worried about it, often sporting bruises and bite marks after her soldier mounted her. With the quickened healing abilities her body now had, nothing lasted very long before fading anyways.

She wished they would stick around, though. She wanted to feel claimed.

She felt his knot swelling and she sighed happily, slumping down onto the cot as he pressed his chest against her back. He began lazily licking at her shoulder, swiping his tongue over the bloody wound to soothe it.

“One day,” he grumbled, “One day, ‘m gonna mark you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Wh-what?” She asked, looking back at him.

He nodded, sure of himself. “You’re my omega. An’ one day, I’m gonna make sure everybody knows.”

—

How many years did she spend there, in HYDRA’S compounds? After the first, it was easy to lose track. She was kept on a monotonous schedule that consisted of a few feedings a day, exercise sessions, and the occasional “doctor’s visit.” Those always just meant that her suppressants were being increased, as her body was growing steadily angrier about them. She was building up a tolerance, the doctor said, and they would simply have to keep ramping up her dosage.

She dared to ask why they couldn’t just let her have heats like normal, and the answer was simply that they didn’t have the facilities ready to raise super soldier pups. The thought of being separated from her own offspring mortified her; it was bad enough that she was always so far away from her alpha, and she knew she couldn’t bear to give up her pups for some twisted HYDRA program.

So she shut up, and learned to deal with the side effects of the suppressants. They made her constantly nauseous, not enough to make her vomit, but definitely enough that she was uncomfortable all day. As her dosage increased, so did her headaches, and there were moments she considered begging the doctors to take her off of them so that she could feel at least some relief.

But she knew that would be a bad idea. She had to continue acting like she had absolutely no interest in returning to her normal heat cycle, or else risk HYDRA thinking about how quickly they could get things ready to start a new super soldier program. Amoretta wanted to keep their minds off of it for as long as she possibly could, and it seemed like she was successful; it never came up during her visits to the lab, the doctors seeming much more focused on how to keep her from getting pregnant at all.

It was for the best. She knew that. But part of her whined and yearned to be allowed to start a little family with her alpha, even though he hadn’t given her a bond mark. With every rut she spent with him, she felt herself growing more and more comfortable at his side, wishing more and more that they were normal people. She wanted to live that life in Brooklyn with him, to smell fresh air again instead of the recycled oxygen they pumped through the compound.

Sometimes, Amoretta was moved to different facilities. They were always underground, always just as gray and dingy as all the others. The guards always tranquilized her in order to transport her, and she would wake up in a similar, yet different cell from the last, groggy and even more nauseous than usual. She figured they were moving both her and the soldier around, depending on where they wanted to send him off on missions. She just wished that she could go outside once in a while, too.

One night, she got her chance.

She woke up early, her body fighting off the tranquilizer she had been given. She could tell that she was in a cramped, dark transport crate, moonlight filtering in through the air holes on the top of it. Fresh air was coming in, too, the scent of grass and pine filling her nose. It smelled so delicious that she was gulping in lungfulls, immediately shifting to press her face up against one of the holes.

It was small, barely large enough for her to see out of it, but she could spot a few twinkling stars up above her.

She wanted more.

The crate was heavy, reinforced with metal bars meant to keep her in and the soldier out, but she was determined. She hadn’t seen the outdoors in...shit, decades?

A few good kicks was all it took before she was scrambling out, bare toes digging into the dirt as she stood and looked around. She was in the middle of nowhere, it seemed, a few trucks idling nearby as HYDRA workers moved supplies into the compound.

As soon as they noticed her, she ran, sprinting off into the trees. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop, too excited by the feeling of the wind against her bare skin. The night air was cool and refreshing, and as she skidded to a stop at the edge of a field, she could hardly believe she was really outside.

Turning her eyes up to the sky, she let out a happy gasp. The moon was full and bright, an entire galaxy of stars twinkling in the inky blackness of space. Amoretta hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

Heavy footsteps drew her attention away from the stars, but she didn’t turn to look. She could smell her alpha approaching, his scent seeming more curious than angry now that he had found her. He was alone, free of the entourage of guards she had expected to come after her.

“Omega,” he growled, his low voice rumbling.

“Look at them,” she sighed.

He stepped up next to her, his side brushing hers. “At what?” His blue eyes were scanning the treeline, searching for anything that could be threatening his omega. When he found nothing, he tilted his head to look down at her curiously. “What is it?”

“The stars,” she sighed again.

Stars?

He watched her face for a moment, surprised to find her smiling up at the sky. When he finally followed her gaze, he paused to admire the stars. He never really did that, did he? Whenever HYDRA let him out, he was sent with strict orders. There was never any time for stargazing. Though...it was nice, and the look on his omega’s face was even nicer.

“That’s Ursa Major,” she said, pointing up to a collection of stars. “See? It’s a bear.”

The soldier snorted. “I don’t see a bear.”

“Then look harder.”

She glanced over to see him actually squinting, the lower half of his face obscured by the black mask he wore on missions. The sight made her laugh, quiet giggles quickly turning into full, hearty laughter that had her gripping her sides. There he was, a huge, terrifying super soldier, the most dangerous assassin in the world, and he was trying to figure out constellations.

“What?” his head whipped around to look down at her.

“N-nothing,” she giggled.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I might be.” she nudged his side with her shoulder. “You’re just...cute. That’s all.”

She could see him raise an eyebrow. “Cute?”

“Mhm. You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you outside of a rut.” she leaned against him, looking up with big doe eyes. “I like it.”

His chest puffed up a little as he looked down at her. “You do?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” his throat rumbled with a low purr. “I have to take you back now.”

She deflated with a sigh. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Not safe out here.”

“There’s nothing out here scarier than you, Alpha.”

His purr grew louder, a little more smug. “You’re right. But I have orders.”

“Can we stay for just another minute?” she pleaded. “Then you can drag me back.”

The soldier considered her offer. He really did enjoy watching her gaze up at the stars, and he had no idea when he would get this chance again. “...Fine.”

Amoretta smiled. “Thank you, Alpha.”

His arm found its way around her waist, pulling her up against him. “You like stars, omega?”

“I used to sit outside and look at them every night back home,” she said. “Well, when it was clear.”

“Back home?”

She nodded. “I grew up in this quaint little village, tucked away in the mountains...at the foot of the alps.”

He cocked his head. Something about the alps...it felt like there was a memory nudging at the back of his mind, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he had gone there on a mission? HYDRA was good at always wiping his memory between outings. It was hard to tell where he had been.

“Let’s go.” he said, suddenly uncomfortable.

Amoretta didn’t resist as he scooped her up, instead resting her cheek against his chest and trying to surround herself with his scent while he walked. She could tell that something was bothering him, but with no idea what, and with him nearing the HYDRA base, there was little she could do to try and pry it out of him.

She would just have to wait and try again during his next rut.

#alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #abo #omegaverse #it's been a long long time #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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seita · 4 years

Text

— you love too easy | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟾𝟹𝟾𝟶

cw: childhood friends!au, roommate!au

tags: unrequited love, pining, toxic relationship (oc x shinsou), brief kaminari x reader, cunnilignus, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, fingering, size kink, loss of virginity, light virgin kink, creampie, squirting, angst with a happy ending

note: sorry if u like kaminari. i made him a huge douchebag in this. i swear i like him i just needed a character to be,,,,well, a douchebag.

— all your life you'd been by his side. you've loved him since you could remember. you've always been by his side so why did he give his heart away to everyone but you; the one who would treat it right?

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He fell in love too easily. You knew that your entire life. He’d give his heart away to anyone and everyone, fully and with everything he had. He loved with every fiber of his being. And it always ended in disaster.

You couldn’t count how many nights you’d spent by his side rubbing his back as he cried because his girlfriend lied to him, comforting him as he hunched over a toilet after crying himself sick because his girlfriend cheated on him, or forcing him to eat because he got so depressed after she ignored him.

It was an endless cycle.

Yet you were always there to build him back up -- to pick up the pieces.

Ever since the first girlfriend he had in Kindergarten that lasted for 2 days and ended in his tears up to the girl he dated in senior year of highschool who cheated on him with her ex...you were the one to fix him.

Yes, Hitoshi Shinsou fell in love far too easily and way too hard.

The thought that kept you awake every night, however, was why couldn’t it be you? You were the one who took the best care of his heart -- being the one to piece it back together every time it was broken. He didn’t need to love anyone else. If he just loved you, he would never have to worry if he just gave his heart to you.

But he never would.

Because he didn’t love you like you loved him.

You’d known him since you were babies -- your parents were friends in highschool and it went on well into adulthood.

Naturally, the two of you grew close -- it was inevitable. Your crush on him developed in childhood -- you two got lost in the mall after you strayed away and he kept you safe and calm until you found your parents, his hand clasped tightly around yours as he let you cling to him. That was the first time you realized he made your cheeks feel warm and your tummy fluttery.

Your parents always joked that the two of you would fall in love and get married. It was nearly impossible for that idea not to be imprinted in your mind.

Except, it was never an idea he entertained.

Part of you felt foolish. You were a grown adult with a crush that you’d harbored since childhood -- pathetic, one-sided crush at that.

The thing was, unlike Shinsou, you’d never dated before. It was never something you desired. Sure, you had confessions and love letters but you’d never once accepted them. You just couldn’t see yourself being with anyone but him.

Upon graduating, the two of you realized how terrible it was to be 18 trying to make it in the adult world. After a few years of fumbling and nearly getting kicked out by not making your rent payments on time, you decided that rooming together would be the best idea.

It was a foolproof plan; you’d known each other for your whole lives so it wasn’t like you’d suddenly hate each other, you knew he was responsible with his money and you were too, and he was a quiet, chill guy so there wouldn’t be any obnoxious ruckus.

What you didn’t think about, however, was him bringing girls home.

“This is Aoi,” he introduced, motioning to the smiling girl beside him, “Aoi, this is _____...she’s my best friend.”

“And his roommate,” you added, holding your hand out politely.

“Oh you...live together?” you didn’t miss the distaste in her tone as she reached out to give you a weak handshake, pulling away as quickly as she could. She immediately wrapped her arms around his and he leaned how to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Ouch. That made your heart hurt.

Of course, it was nothing new. This was something you’d been through time and time again.

What you hadn’t accounted for, was her dislike of you. Naturally, his past girlfriends hadn’t always been fond of you -- after all, you were a big part of their boyfriend’s life. And jealousy was a fickle disease.

But Aoi’s dislike bordered on hatred and disgust over you. Every chance she got, she was pulling Shinsou away from you with some thinly veiled excuse. It seemed your best friend was none the wiser as well.

You couldn’t blame him -- he was in love. Unfortunately.

Aoi’s glares were ice cold, often sending shivers down your spine when she set it upon you. It was uncomfortable to say the least. She was at your place often enough for you to take up the art of avoiding her.

That is until one day when things seemed to come to a head for her. You weren’t sure what you did but you found yourself cornered in the kitchen one evening while Shinsou was taking a shower -- leaving just the two of you alone.

“Listen to me,” Aoi spat, arms crossed over her chest, making her look petulant, “You need to back off of Toshi.”

“Uhh...what?” you grunted, looking up from the glass of chocolate milk you were pouring.

“Stay away from him!” she spat.

“We literally live together,” you rolled your eyes, capping the pint of milk, “I can’t stay away from him.”

“You know what I mean,” she hissed, clearly pissed off by your sarcasm. She marched up to you, grabbing your upper arm in a vice grip, her acrylic nails pinching your skin, “I see the way you look at him. I know that look in your eye. You love him.”

Your mind blanked, mouth opening but failing to produce any words. She smirked smugly, stepping back and crossing her arms again.

“I…” your brows came together as you shook your head, finally putting the milk away.

“I knew it,” she huffed, “You can’t take him from me. Toshi is mine so you better remember that. You have no idea what I can do to you.”

With that parting threat, she stormed out of the kitchen back to Shinsou’s bedroom. You felt tears sting your eyes, feeling utterly humiliated by her.

Another thing about Hitoshi Shinsou is he’s terribly dense sometimes. You had no idea how he managed to miss the horrifying tension between you and Aoi. But he somehow did.

The three of you sat in the living room -- the two of them cuddled on the couch while you curled up under a throw blanket with your phone open to Twitter on the loveseat. They were watching some movie Aoi picked out that you knew Shinsou hated, but he watched it anyway. The thought made you bitter.

You’d never make him watch movies he hated. That’s just selfish.

You let out a sigh, catching your best friend’s attention immediately.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, the usual pet name he used for you making your stomach flutter. Aoi’s eyes narrowed in distaste at it but he paid her no mind.

“Oh, I’ve just got a bit of a headache,” you mumbled, locking your phone to look over at him.

He frowned, concerned, pulling his arm from around his girlfriend’s shoulders. She whined at the loss, attempting to pull him back but he paid her no mind.

He disappeared from the living room to the kitchen. You could hear the refrigerator open before he began shuffling around the cabinets.

“You’re not slick,” Aoi hissed, keeping her voice low, “Why don’t you just go away. Don’t you think he’d prefer to be alone with his girlfriend? You’re just a third wheel.”

You didn’t get to reply before Shinsou returned, holding a glass of your chocolate milk and a couple pills. He smiled, handing everything to you before taking a seat with Aoi again. She immediately clung to him with a whine.

“Thank you Toshi,” you smiled, popping the pills in your mouth before taking a quick gulp of the milk.

“Anytime, darlin’” he smiled, turning his attention back to the movie he hated.

Part of you felt prideful that he was willing to pull himself away from his girlfriend to take care of you. She clearly saw you as competition and you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling it gave you when you proved to her that you meant something to Shinsou.

You noticed very quickly when Shinsou stopped calling you by his nickname. It baffled you and you didn’t hesitate to bring it up to him.

“Ah, Aoi mentioned she doesn’t like it when I call other girls pet names,” he rubbed the back of his neck in that familiarly anxious way of him. He was avoiding your gaze, further ticking you off.

“I’m not other girls, Hitoshi,” he visibly cringed at hearing his full name, “I’m your best friend. You’ve always called me that.”

He sighed, biting his lip, clearly torn, “Sorry _____,” you frowned at the sound of your name. It seemed so foreign hearing it where he’d usually call you ‘darlin’’, “She is my girlfriend and it’d be shitty of me to neglect her wishes. I want this to work, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest, “This is stupid Hitoshi.”

He sighed, clearly growing annoyed as well, “Look, you’re just my friend, alright? So back off.”

Your jaw fell open at those words, tears already starting to sting at your eyes, “Just your friend? That’s low, Hitoshi. I am not just your friend and you know it.”

He groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair, “You’re starting to sound jealous and clingy, _____. It’s not a good look.”

Feeling that the tears were going to spill any moment, you shook your head and stormed past him, “Screw you Shinsou.”

You slammed your bedroom door, missing the sight of him burying his face in his hands. Hearing you address him by his last name was even worse than hearing his first.

Things remained tense between the two of you for a week. You had really been hurt by his words. You always thought you meant a lot to him -- that you’d never be the person who was pushed aside for a relationship. You never thought Shinsou would do that.

As a result, you made no effort to even speak to him. Sometimes you’d pass him while he sat on the couch, Aoi snuggled up to him. Whenever you made eye contact with you, she held this smug, superior look that made you want to clock her.

You’d never hated a girlfriend of his more.

Finally, Shinsou gave in. He couldn’t stand not having you to talk to. There was this heavy feeling lingering on his shoulders every time he thought about the cold way you called him by his last name. He never wanted to be addressed like that by you.

There were a series of knocks on your door and you paused, debating on ignoring him. He knocked again when you took too long to answer.

“Come in,” you groaned, putting your laptop aside to give him your attention.

“Hey,” he smiled half-heartedly as he slipped into your room, closing the door behind him.

“What do you want?” you asked, no bite in your voice.

He sighed, taking a seat beside you on the bed, “I want to apologize for what I said. I know that hurt your feelings so I’m sorry.”

You were quiet for a moment before you sat up straighter, “Hitoshi...I don’t want you to become a different person because of a girl.”

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

You sighed, “I think she’s a bad influence on you, Toshi.”

He softened briefly at your use of his nickname but it was quickly replaced by a cold stare that sent shivers down your spine, “A-A bad influence? I’m not a kid, _____.”

You frowned, “You don’t have to be a kid to be negatively influenced by another person's toxicity, Hitoshi.”

“You think she’s toxic?” he scoffed, standing up, “You don’t even know her. You’ve barely even spoken to her.”

“Well the bit that I have spoken to her was not pleasant,” you spat, moving to sit at the edge of the bed with your feet on the floor, “I don’t think she’s good for you.”

“What are you, my mother now?” he growled, spinning around to glare at you, “Maybe I was wrong...maybe you are just jealous.”

“How am I acting jealous?” you cried, growing frustrated, “Caring about your wellbeing is jealousy now?”

“Oh get off it,” he groaned, “What’s she done then, huh? Tell me.”

You paused, remembering her threat. But you were so pissed off you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “She’s threatened me to stay away from you. She’s so insecure about our friendship she threatened me over it! Said you were hers and I better remember that. She’s crazy!”

“She didn’t say that,” he argued, eyes narrowed maliciously, “You’re just making shit up to make her look bad now. That’s really low, _____.”

“You asked me to tell you what she did and then you just don’t believe me?!” you screeched, tossing your hands up in exasperation.

“I thought you’d tell me the truth, not make up some pathetic lie!” he shouted, making you flinch.

“Pathetic?” you breathed, shoulders sagging, “Is that what you think of me?”

He was quiet for a moment, jaw set. He seemed to be thinking his words carefully, which made his next even more painful, “Yeah. I do. This jealousy and lying of yours is pathetic. I get if you don’t like her but don’t make up shit about her,” he made way for the door, yanking it open, “Grow the fuck up, ______.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before he was slamming your door shut. All at once, your emotions came crashing down and you buried your face in your pillow to silence your sobs.

Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned, feeling your head pound. A glance out the window showed that it was nighttime. You had fallen asleep.

You climbed out of bed to your desk to find your packet of headache pills. You let out a sigh of relief as you swallowed them down with the bottle of water sat on your nightstand. Flopping back into bed, you closed your eyes and attempted to relax your body.

Just as it seemed that you were going to fall back asleep, there was a loud noise from past your door. You frowned, your eyes fluttering open in confusion.

It came again and it took you a moment to realize what it was. A woman’s moan.

“Toshi!” you heard her squeal, making you flinch.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, feeling those tears come burning their way back.

“That feel good, baby? Let me hear you,” he growled and your hands flew up to cover your ears to muffle the sounds of her pleasure.

This was low for Shinsou. Sure, he’d had sex with girlfriends before but he always made sure to keep it down for your sake. Now he was just doing it to dig at you.

He wasn’t wrong about your jealousy but you knew he thought you were jealous over his attention being taken away. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was because you were in love with him.

Now he was forcing you to listen to him fuck the girlfriend you literally had a fight over. This wasn’t like Shinsou at all.

She really was just a terrible influence on him but he was too in love to see it. She was making him into a different person and you hated it. It was happening so quickly.

As you laid in bed, tears wetting your bed as you hid your head under your pillow, you couldn’t help but think.

The stupid fool really fell in love way too easily.

Things went from bad to worse astonishingly fast. Aoi was over more often than she had been before. The snotty comments and humiliating words from her every time you saw her and the cold, deadly glare Shinsou set on you whenever you came anywhere near his girlfriend was wearing on you.

You were unhappy. It was an emotion you rarely ever felt around him -- Shinsou was always the one to pick you up, not put you down. It got to the point where he wouldn’t even respond to your greetings or questions, giving you the complete silent treatment.

It hurt.

To escape the suffocating negativity of your apartment, you picked up even more shifts at work. The video game shop became a place you found solace in.

If Shinsou noticed your absence, he didn’t make it known to you.

“Will that be all for you today?” you asked, plastering on a fake, customer service smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, slapping down a few bills to cover the charge, “But I think I’d like to add your number to my receipt.”

You took a moment to look at him. He had blonde hair with a lightning bolt of black through it. He was dressed in black jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He was cute, you’d give him that.

“Is that the best you could come up with?” you asked, opening the register with a brow raised.

He giggled, making you smile despite yourself, “I was on a time crunch I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“Who said you had a chance to begin with?” you asked, passing him his change, “3.14 is your change.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d give one to me,” he shrugged, stuffing the change into his pocket before grabbing the bagged video game he’d purchased.

You gazed at him for a moment. He was charismatic and cute. He liked video games just like you. And he’d be a great distraction.

“Sure, why not?” you mused, watching his eyes go wide.

“Wait really?” he gasped, a grin stretching across his face.

“Did you think I’d say no?” you asked.

“U-Usually I get rejected so…” he shrugged, scratching the back of his head with a cute blush reaching his ears, “Anyway, when’s your shift end?”

“Um...closing time, so about 8:30,” you replied, glancing at the clock. 5 hours left.

“Sweet, I’ll pick you up!” he grinned.

“I-I’ll have to change though!” you complained, making him pause and shake his head.

“Don’t worry about it!” with those parting words, he bolted out the door, the bell chiming to signal his departure.

As he disappeared from view, you realized you didn’t even know his name.

You would come to find he was Denki Kaminari; a college student majoring in graphic design. He had a friend named Katsuki Bakugou who was as loud as he was angry. Eijirou Kirishima was a kind, chill guy who mellowed out the explosive Bakugou well. Mina and Sato, two friends-turned-lovers, were a common source of laughter for the group.

You were together for a little over a month and a half when he finally asked to meet your friends. Truth be told, the only person you could consider a friend would be Shinsou. You had acquaintances and those you hung real casually with but Shinsou was the only person you’d consider a friend.

Well, you weren’t sure if he could even be called that anymore.

Eventually, you gave in and decided to bring Kaminari to your apartment.

“Whoa, nice place,” he mumbled, looking around.

“You think so? Thanks,” you smiled, leading him towards the living room, “Like I said...things are...tense between me and Hitoshi so…”

“Who’re you?” a familiar voice came from the entry of the hallway.

Shinsou stood there, messy hair and tired eyed wearing basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. His eyes burned holes into Kaminari, who visibly shrunk beneath the heated glare. You took note of how Shinsou didn’t even look at you.

That still hurt.

“I’m Denki Kaminari,” the blonde replied, approaching Shinsou to shake his hand, “I’m _____’s boyfriend!”

You didn’t miss the shift in Shinsou’s look, his eyebrows perking up ever so slightly. His gaze finally shifted to you before he scoffed from his nose, making you wince.

“Alright,” Shinsou mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning his back to the both of you, stalking back to his room with a slam of the door.

Kaminari winced, “Boy, you weren’t kidding.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, motioning him to follow you, “Let’s head to my room. I don’t know if Aoi is here or not and I don’t care to find out.”

“I kinda wanna meet her too,” your boyfriend whispered, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry to Shinsou.

“No you don’t,” you chuckled, shutting your bedroom door once the two of you were safely inside.

You sat beside him on the bed, reaching for your remote to click the TV on for background noise. He cuddled in beside you, commenting on how soft your bed was.

“You smell really good,” he suddenly whispered, nosing at your neck.

You blinked in surprise, moving your head so he could get a better angle, “Th-Thanks…”

He hummed as you shivered once he pressed a few soft kisses against your neck. It tickled a bit but also sent a strange tingle down your spine the more he kissed. Your heart hammered in your chest and you briefly wondered if Denki could hear it.

He cupped your jaw, pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue met your bottom lip, making you sigh against his lips.

You barely noticed his hand crawling up your shirt until it snuck beneath the band of your bra. The unfamiliar feeling of someone cupping your breast had you pulled away, tugging on Kaminari’s hand to pull him away.

“W-We shouldn’t…” you whispered, unsure of how to reject him, “W-With Shinsou the way he is…”

Kaminari looked skeptical for a second before nodding his head, “Got it.”

And that was that.

At least you thought until he began trying more and more. It became common for you to find his hand up your shirt. The feeling made you uneasy, making you realize you really weren’t ready to have sex. Kaminari was your first boyfriend and you weren’t willing to give everything up to him like that.

“Why do you always stop me?” Kaminari asked one day, voice soft and reassuring.

“I just…” you cleared your throat, biting your lip, “I don’t want to go that far yet.”

He was quiet for a moment before smiling and nodding his head, pulling you closer to him with a kiss to your forehead. Your body relaxed, thankful that he wasn’t angry with you like you had feared he would be.

He began following your wishes, no longer attempting to go past kissing. You were thankful.

Unfortunately, your bliss didn’t last long because next thing you knew, he was dumping you. Over text.

You had just got home from work, your feet aching and dread pooling in your stomach at the idea of being home. You were so tired of being scared to come home, it was exhausting. Shinsou was sitting on the couch, eating something he’d made himself for dinner with his back to you. He didn’t even show any signs that he knew you were home.

Lingering by the door, you pulled your phone out to check your notifications.

One from Denki made your heart stop -- the preview text already displaying what you feared. Your fingers were trembling as you unlocked your phone to look at the message.

As you read it, the words grew blurrier until tears began to drip onto your screen -- further obscuring the words there.

A small whimper escaped your throat, despite the way you tried to choke down any sounds. You quickly scurried to get to your bedroom when a strong hand snagged your wrist. Wide eyed, you were spun around to find Shinsou wearing a frown and furrowed brows.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, voice stern with concern.

You shook your head, feeling pathetic. You didn’t like Kaminari that much. Truthfully, you were mostly dating him to get away from Shinsou. But the idea that you were dumped because you wouldn’t have sex was utterly humiliating. Your first real boyfriend dumped you because you wouldn’t put out.

“You were right,” you sniffled, unable to hold back the sob that tore through your chest, “I am pathetic.”

He didn’t have the chance to even think of a reply before you were escaping his hold to hide away in your bedroom. You haphazardly stripped and changed into your softest set of clothes, deciding you were going to wallow in your own self pity for the night.

Your humiliation overshadowed the fact Shinsou had shown you the first sign of care in weeks. He had reacted to your crying just as he always had and instinctively moved to comfort you.

You could hear muffled voices from the hallway, one male and one female. The fact he brought her over after you just had a near meltdown in front of him irked you and only brought more tears forth.

A sense of anger rushed over you -- you didn’t want her there. This was your house and you didn’t want her there while you were going through it. You had half a mind to go out there and kick her out, maybe Shinsou would let it slide since you were clearly having a tough time.

What you didn’t expect were the shouts coming from them. You frowned and walked towards your door, cracking it open to listen to their shouting from the living room.

“You’re kicking me out?!” Aoi cried.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Shinsou sighed, “You don’t live here. I’m just asking you to go home for the night, Aoi.”

“Why should I?” Aoi argued, “Because she’s upset? Who cares!”

“I care!” Shinsou snapped.

Aoi scoffed, “Oh yeah, since when? Last I checked you picked me over her!”

“I didn’t pick anyone over anyone,” Shinsou huffed.

“Really?” Aoi’s tone was dripping in sarcasm, “You haven’t paid her a second of attention since your little fight. I doubt you even noticed how she’s been working full-time instead of part-time. Why do you think that is? To get away from you! Not that I give a shit, but you have been treating her like dirt. So don’t even try and pretend you give a shit, I know you don’t. You only feel bad because she’s crying. Once she gets over it you’ll just come back to me in the end. So just let her sulk by herself, she’s a big girl.”

Shinsou was quiet after that. You were sure he wasn’t even going to respond but you continued to stand there and listen. The apartment was silent, you could even hear the ticking of the decorative clock Shinsou’s mother had given you both.

“She was right, huh?” he finally whispered.

“Huh?” Aoi replied, clearly annoyed.

“I really did let you turn me into someone else,” he sighed, “God, I’m so stupid.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Hitoshi?” she snapped, growing impatient over the argument.

“You should leave,” Shinsou said, voice strong once again, “You and I are done.”

“What?!” Aoi shrieked, stomping her foot, “You can’t dump me! Not for her!”

“Get out, Aoi,” Shinsou growled, yanking the front door open.

She scoffed, “Don’t come crawling back to me when you learn she isn’t worth it.”

The slam of the door signalled the end. Silence ensued and you slipped back into your room, letting your door shut silently.

Just as you expected, there were a few soft knocks on your door. You didn’t reply but he opened up anyway, peeking in to find you sitting on the bed with your head hung.

“I assume you heard all that,” he said, cupping the back of his neck nervously.

“Yeah, kind of hard to miss,” you mumbled, feeling awkward about sharing this moment with him.

You didn’t look up when he sat down beside you. With a sudden tug, you found yourself wrapped up in a sweet embrace.

“Why were you crying? Did something happen with that Kaminari dude? Did he hurt you?” his concern brought forth a new flood of tears that you let go.

“He dumped me,” you whined, clinging to the front of his shirt.

“Why?” he asked, petting your hair softly.

You scoffed, shame building up inside you, “Because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

Immediately he pushed you back by your shoulders to look at your face, “He dumped you ‘cause you wouldn’t fuck him?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze, “He said he had needs and he wasn’t willing to wait for me to put out.”

“Jesus,” Shinsou scoffed, shaking his head, “What a prick,” he pulled you into his chest again with a sigh, “It’s good you didn’t sleep with him then. He wouldn’t have been worth it.”

“Yeah, I would have regretted it,” you nodded, “I’m not even sad he broke up with me. I just feel like shit that it was over sex. He was my first boyfriend and I got dumped because I wasn’t ready...that sort of feels shitty, you know?”

Shinsou nodded, resting his cheek atop your head, “I understand. It’s like a blow to your self-esteem, yeah?”

“Exactly,” you sniffled, your tears finally coming to a stop as he held you and let you talk, “I didn’t like him enough to sleep with him anyway. Even if I was ready.”

Shinsou chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re not heartbroken over it.”

You were quiet for a long moment before you pulled away from him, “How are you? I know you liked Aoi.”

Shinsou frowned, looking at his hands in his lap before shrugging, “I actually don’t really feel anything.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. Usually he would be in tears by now. But he was right, there wasn’t even an ounce of sadness in his eyes.

He nodded, “All I really cared about was you. I guess realizing what she really was wiped out anything I felt for her. Truthfully, it was probably going to be over soon anyway.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

“We just didn’t have good chemistry, I suppose. The sex was great but beyond that we didn’t really share any common interests,” he explained, leaning back on his hands with a sigh.

You cringed at the mention of sex -- remembering the night you sobbed as you were forced to listen to them go at it. Shinsou seemed to notice your discomfort, leaning up straight once more to take your hands in his.

“I’m sorry, ______,” he breathed, making you look up at him, “I was such a fuckin’ asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that and if you chose to never forgive me I would understand. But I promise I will never let a girl come first again. You’re my best friend, you’re the entire world to me and you will always be here when all the girls leave, I know that. No one can ever replace you.”

His words caused a flood of tears to flood down your cheeks again. You threw your arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a desperate hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your shirt with his face buried in your neck.

“I will always be here, Toshi,” you hiccuped, “I really will. It doesn’t matter if you choose the next 50 girls over me, I would never let you go. I would rather live with you ignoring me and making me cry over not having you at all.”

He sighed, tears of his own falling from his eyes and wetting your skin but you didn’t mind, “I would never ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, voice trembling. You couldn’t stop the next words from coming, you didn’t even try, “That’s how strong my love is for you, Toshi. I would do anything for your happiness. I’ll let you cry on my shoulder when girl after girl breaks your heart, even though it hurts so damn much because I know I would never, ever let you down like that. I’ll sit with you in the living room while another girl is wrapped in your arms, desperately wishing it was me, because you want me and her to be friends. You don’t even know it but you have every bit of me,” your voice broke as you let out a sob, taking a stuttering breath before continuing, “I never dated because I only ever loved you. You’re the only one I ever want to love. I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same, Toshi, I just needed you to know...I have loved you since we were kids. Whenever your mom joked that we would get married, I used to go to sleep hoping it would come true one day. You’re it for me, you know?”

Shinsou was still, every muscle in his body tense against you. You remained relaxed, relishing in being held in his arms even though it very well may be the last time you would ever experience it. His tears had stopped and you could feel his hands trembling against your back from where he was still holding your shirt in tight fists.

Finally, slowly, he pulled away. You avoided his gaze, scared of what you may find there. With trembling fingers, he lifted your chin until you were finally forced to meet his gaze.

“______…” he whispered, your voice like honey on his lips, “Is that true? Since we were kids?”

You chuckled through your still falling tears, “Remember that time at the summer festival when I wandered off and you had to chase me? And I got scared because I couldn’t find our parents? When you let me hold onto you and you kept reassuring me that everything was okay…” you shrugged, your voice cracking as you uttered, “I knew I loved you then. And I love you to this day.”

His wide eyes were glassy as he stared at you, mouth agape in his shock. It was so much for him to take in.

Before you knew what was happening, he was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Your vision went white for a second in shock at the feeling.

His lips were soft and as you began to kiss back, you tasted coffee on his lips. Typical of Shinsou, it was late at night and he was still drinking coffee. The thought made you smile and you wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He cupped the back of your head, a soft sigh escaping him as he moved his lips expertly until you were breathless.

After a long moment, he pulled away. The both of you were panting, eyes lidded as you processed what just happened.

“Toshi…” you whispered, feeling euphoric after kissing him, “I don’t understand.”

He shook his head, cupping your cheek, “All you need to know...is that I love you too.”

You gaped at those words coming from his lips. Surging forward, you pressed your lips against his again. He smiled into the kiss, leaning further against you until you were forced to lay back against the mattress. His body was hovering above yours, held up by his elbows on either side of your head.

He wasted no time in touching your body, years of desperation finally culminating into this one moment. His hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing the hem up to expose the soft skin of your belly. He paused at your ribs, unsure if you were okay with him going any further. But when you gripped his wrist and urged his hand up to cup your breast, he threw away those inhibitions.

Thumbing your sensitive nipple, you keened as they hardened beneath his touch. He leaned down a bit more to press his lips against yours.

You lost yourself against his lips, whimpering and grinding against nothing. Just the fact the man you’d loved for so long was there touching you after years of craving it had your panties soaked.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breaking from the kiss to kiss down your body.

You trembled beneath him, watching him with rapt attention as he kissed the exposed skin of your stomach and ribs. Sighing, you let him push your shirt over your head to discard off the side of the bed. He leaned forward, enveloping one of the pert buds in his hot mouth, tonguing at it until you were whining and begging him to give attention to the other one. He did so eagerly, providing a stimulating suck before finally pulling away. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed, the very fact you made him that way was dizzying.

“Wanna taste that perfect cunt too, baby,” he growled, voice losing the soft, sweetness it once held.

“O-Okay,” you agreed easily, raising your hips so he could tug the last remaining articles off of your body.

The second you were bare, his hands were pinning your thighs open. His eyes examined every inch of your pussy -- taking in the juices dripping from your clenching hole.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “so pretty too, god. Look at you...you’re perfect. Bet you’re so sweet…”

“Please Toshi…” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair.

His eyes fluttered at the feeling, allowing you to pull him to your pussy where he eagerly ran his tongue flat between your spread folds. You gasped, eyes slamming shut as he paused to wrap his lips around your clit for just a split second. The teasing touch was addictive and you suddenly wanted more.

Shinsou understood what it is you wanted and quickly dove back in for more. Circling his tongue around your clit, your back arched. You wanted to close your thighs against the stimulation but his strong hands kept your legs pinned open.

He swirled his tongue quickly, moaning before enveloping the bud in his hot mouth. You tugged his hair, crying out his name as you felt a high approaching rapidly. He looked so good between your thighs, eating your cunt like you’d dreamed of for ages.

Suddenly, he pulled away, licking his lips before sitting up.

“Fuck, tell me babygirl,” he breathed, “You gonna let me fuck this pretty cunt?” you nodded, reaching to push his shit up but he stopped you, looking you in the eyes, “Use your words. Tell me.”

“Yes, please fuck me Shinsou!” you begged.

He grinned, pressing a kiss against your lips before stripping himself of his clothes.

You almost gasped at the sight of his cock. He was big; long and thick. Subconsciously, you clenched your thighs together in anticipation.

“You ready?” he asked, scooting to sit between your spread legs.

You tensed up as he prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock. He realized how tense you were and ran his hand along your thigh to soothe you, “You good? You can back out anytime, darlin’.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you looked at him through your lashes, “I-It’s just...go slow?”

He frowned, brows drawn together before he backed away from you a bit, “Is this your first time, sweetheart?”

Licking your lips, you hesitated before nodding. Shinsou sighed, hanging his head to rest against your collarbone. You frowned, “I-Is that bad?” you asked.

Truth was, you never wanted anyone but him. You never had a desire to have sex with anyone but him. You knew he was the one person you’d never regret being with.

“No!” he sat up, eyes wide before wrapping his hand around the nape of his neck nervously, “I just wish you would have told me sooner...that was almost bad.”

“Why?” you asked,making him chuckle. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Well…” clearing his throat, he looked off to the side bashfully, “My dick’s not exactly the smallest around and since you’re a virgin you could do with...a lot more preparation, you know?”

Your cheeks were ablaze from the bluntness of his words. He didn’t waste another second in bringing his hand to your still wet pussy.

He sighed, a smile lingering on his lips as he worked his middle finger into your tight hole. Humming, he bit his lip as he slipped his ring finger alongside it. You sighed, eyes fluttering at the mild stretch that came along with it.

“Feel okay?” he asked softly, working the two fingers in and out of your hole.

You nodded, “Feels good,” you breathed.

Your eyes fell closed as he crooked his fingers upwards to touch that sweet spot on top. Your hips jumped at the sensation, ripping a moan from your swollen lips. He smirked, burying the digits deep, licking his lips at the way your juices gushed out from around them.

With his other hand, he found your clit, circling the bud with his thumb as he worked his index finger into the mix. The added stimulation to your clit made your wall clench tightly and he grunted, imagining what it would feel like around his cock.

“Please Toshi,” you begged, “I want you already.”

“Thank you’re ready?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

And he was right when you whimpered out a pathetic little, “Yes!”

He resumed the position from earlier, his tip pressed against your entrance. It was opened a bit from his three fingers but he knew it was still going to be a tight fit.

He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he began to sink into your cunt. You whimpered as your walls stretched around him, squeezing his hand. He bottomed out quickly, stilling to let you adjust to being stuffed so full of his thick cock.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“N-No…” you mumbled, “Just...feels weird.”

He chuckled, kissing your lips again. He could feel you squeezing around him, your cunt unused to having such a big cock inside. The fact he was your first, the one taking your virginity -- tainting your pure body was turning him on more than he ever thought it would.

He couldn’t even lie and say he’d never taken a cherry before but with you it was different. He felt a sense of pride and possessiveness wash over him; you were his completely. You had given him your heart and your body.

Burying his face in your neck, he pressed kisses against the sweet spot he easily found there. Grinding his hips against yours, he stirred your insides with his thick length until you were arching your hips to get more of the addictive pleasure only he could bring you.

He pulled out halfway, slowly sinking his cock back inside with a groan.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, eyes glued to where your cunt was stretched around him, “Taking me so well, look at that.”

“Feels so good,” you whimpered, clutching the sheets beneath you in your fists.

“Yeah?” he grinned, pulling out so the tip remained only to surge forward and sink his cock into you in one long thrust. Immediately, your back arched and you let out an erotic moan that had his cock throbbing against your walls, “Fuck, my cocks almost too much for you but you’re bein’ such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Taking what I give you...fuck…”

His praise and dirty words went straight to your core. He set a steady pace, making sure to angle his hips up so he could hit your g-spot. The pleasure had your eyes rolling back and you cried out his name every so often, making his heart race.

“Sound so pretty sayin’ my name…” he groaned, cupping your breasts in his hands as he fucked you, “Pussy’s so tight and wet...I can feel you dripping, you know that? Who would have thought such a pretty cunt could get so messy. But you only get this messy for me, right darlin’?”

“Only you!” you babbled, wrapping your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. He moaned into your mouth, reaching between your bodies to circle your clit, “Fuck! Toshi, y-you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Do it then, sweetheart. Go on, cum on my fucking cock.”

A few more thrusts and circles over your swollen bud had you falling over the edge. Your body trembled and arched beneath him, cunt spasming around him as he worked you dutifully through your orgasm.

Once you came down, he pulled his hand from your clit and pulled out. You were panting, body limp and relaxed as you let him move you onto your hands and knees. Keeping your face buried in the pillow, you allowed him to maneuver you into the proper position.

He pressed his hand down on the small of your back, “Arch your back for me, good girl.”

“Th-This is embarrassing, Toshi…” you whispered into the pillow.

He hummed, gripping his cock to direct himself back into the sweet vice of your cunt, “No reason to be embarrassed, kitten. It’s just me...you can trust me.”

“I-I know...but still…” you whimpered, eyes fluttering as he sunk his cock deep inside. The position allowed him to reach a new depth.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked softly, running his hand along your spin.

You hesitated for a second, focusing on the pleasurable sensation of being filled so completely before shaking your head. He grinned, leaning down to kiss your shoulder blade, “Good girl.”

The praise went to your head and you suddenly had a desire to receive more. You wanted to be good for him -- be his good girl.

You lifted your head from the pillow and cried out his name, fucking yourself back against his cock. He grinned, slapping your ass lighter than he usually would do it -- he wasn’t sure how you would take to it. When he felt you clench around him in response, he grinned. That was something worth looking into it seemed.

“Toshi…” you whined, reaching back to grip at his hip.

He hummed, slowing ever so slightly, “What is it, kitten?”

“Please…” you whined, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment over what you desperately wanted to ask him.

“Please what?” he whispered, kissing your shoulder blade again, “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“C-Call me...y-your goog girl again…” you whispered, immediately burying your face in your pillow.

He paused, eyes wide before another grin grew across his face. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you up until your back was pressed against his chest. You cried out, his cock stilling inside you as he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You like being praised huh?” he asked, chuckling when you nodded, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. He enjoyed the fucked out look on your face, “Like being my good girl, hm? Such a pretty, sweet girl for me…”

You whimpered, walls clenching around his still cock, “I-I love you Toshi…”

He hummed, reaching down to find your clit. Circling over the bud, you keened, eyes fluttering as your cunt clenched tight around him, “I know you do, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, your walls squeezed, clamping down tight. He groaned, cursing under his breath as he felt your body seize up in your orgasm, trembling and gushing around his cock. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, looking down to where his length was buried completely inside.

You began to rock yourself along his cock, your orgasm flying to new heights as he never stopped playing with your sensitive bud.

Suddenly, he watched with wide eyes as your cum squirted out, soaking the bed and your thighs.

“Shit,” he growled, providing a few quick slaps against your clit, making you squirt just a few more times, “What a good fucking girl you are. Look at the mess you made. You’re so perfect, I love you so much.”

Those words had you clenching once again. That finally sent him over the edge himself. He rocked into you, holding you tight against him. His cock throbbed, spitting hot cum into your sensitive cunt.

He cupped your breasts, groaning in the throes of his orgasm as he pressed kisses against your shoulder, neck, and cheek.

When he finally came down, he gently laid you on the bed, pulling his cock out. His cum gushed from your hole without his length to stop it. You cringed, the feeling unpleasant to say the least.

He got out of bed to go to the bathroom intending to get a cloth to clean you with.

When he was gone, you found yourself thinking about what just happened. One particular thought was on your mind and when he returned, you didn’t hesitate to voice it.

“W-We didn’t use a condom…” you mumbled.

He hummed, “Were we supposed to? I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am...it’s just…” you frowned, clearing your throat as you watched him wiped your thighs and sensitive folds free of your mixed cum.

“What?” he sat beside you, fixing you with a steady gaze, urging you to confess your thoughts to him.

“You were just...dating, you know...Aoi and…” you sighed, averting your gaze from him, “Other girls before.”

He chuckled, laying beside you, “What, you’re concerned I have something?”

“Well no...not necessarily…” you frowned as he cupped your cheek, making you look at him.

“If you must know…” he shrugged before continuing, “I always used a condom with them.”

“Really?” he nodded at your question, “Then...why with me?”

“Because you’re you,” he smiled, kissing your lips, pulling you to lay against his chest, “You’re the one for me, kitten. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Yes, Hitoshi Shinsou fell in love easily. But he never gave those girls his heart. He cried because he thought he could never have you. The truth was, you had always owned his heart. It had always been in your hands.

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha smut #shinsou smut #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha smut #afton.writes

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middleearthpixie · 2 years

Text

Where I Belong ~ Chapter Eight

Summary: Noelle and Thorin go to see a friend of hers who is a physicist to try and get some answers on wormholes…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield/ Noelle James (female oc)

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Noelle, Dr. Ian Carter

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,399 words

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3

Noelle tried not to think about Thorin’s amazing kiss as they made their way out of Central Park. She failed, but she really did try. However, every time her gaze alit upon him, it all came rushing back. The fire. The sin. The sensuality. That one kiss was better than the lifetime of kisses in her past.

He walked slightly ahead of her, which, had her thoughts not been so troubled, she would have found funny because he had no idea where anything was or how to flag down a cab or anything. Yet, he automatically took the lead. And not with arrogance, but with a quiet confidence that just let her know he knew he was in charge, even if he didn't quite know exactly what it was he was in charge of.

Not that she minded. Walking along behind him definitely had it advantages and one was definitely how good he looked in those damn Levi’s. It might be the only one at the moment, but she’d take it.

“Wait, Thorin, hold on,” she called, tugging out her phone. “Before we go rushing over to Tandon, only to find he’s in class or a faculty meeting or something, let me touch base with him.”

He came back, pointing at her phone. “What is that?”

“This? It’s an iPhone. A cell phone. That way you are never out of reach and people can always find it.”

He plucked it from her fingers to study. Like most of the things in her world, it looked out of place in Thorin’s huge paw. “What does it do?”

“What does it do? Uh, I think the question is, what doesn’t it do?” She took it back, moving to stand next to him as she held it up to unlock it with the Face ID feature. “It’s a phone, a mini-computer, a game center, and a photo album.”

As she talked, she held up the phone, leaned in to press her cheek to his, and took a picture of them. “See?”

He stared down at the image of them, cheek to cheek. “How… how did you do that?”

“Magic.” She pointed to the shutter button. “Press it and take your first selfie.”

He looked over at her as his thick index finger hit the button. “My first what?”

She burst out laughing at the photo of him—he’d managed to cut his face almost perfectly in half and since he’d been looking at her when he took it, his right eye turned inward, making him cockeyed. “Your first selfie and it is a keeper, Mr. Oakenshield.”

“Durin.”

“What?”

“Oakenshield was a name given to me in battle, or after battle, actually. My given name is Durin.” He glanced down at his image and scowled. “And that is a terrible likeness of me.”

“Here. I’ll take a better one.” She took the phone back and smiled up at him. “Put your arm around me, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes darkened slightly, but only for a moment, as he eased his arm about her waist. The heat from his fingers sank into the heavy wool of her topcoat, but she tried to ignore it as she slid her arm about his waist as well. “Lean into me.”

As his beard brushed her cheek, it took everything she had for her to resist the urge to nuzzle him. It was softer than she thought a beard would be, as she really hadn’t paid much attention to it when he’d kissed her. Somehow, the softness of his lips put all thoughts of his beard from her mind.

He also smelled nice—clean like Ivory soap and with a hint of frosty air. His hand tightened on her waist and maybe it was only her imagination, but he seemed to press his cheek a bit harder against hers as well. She tried to put both sensations from her mind as she lifted the camera, but then his thumb gently swept up toward her ribs and her heart skipped another beat.

She clicked the shutter and smiled at the result. He certainly didn’t look the slightest bit cockeyed in that picture. “The camera likes you.”

“How does it know me?”

“No,” she held the phone up again, “I mean, look at you. It means you take a great picture.”

“Let me try.” He took the phone from her and once more leaned close to her. But this time, as he clicked the shutter, he turned at the last minute and pressed a kiss into her cheek.

“What—what was that for?”

“For explaining this magic to me,” he said as he passed the phone back to her. “I have the feeling not everyone would be so patient with me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re a good-looking guy, you know. Three women have nearly walked into trees in the time we’ve been standing here playing with my phone. I’m sure any one of them would be more than patient with explaining stuff to you.”

“I care not about them.”

“Be that as it may, I’m sure any one of them would help you as well. And besides, you’re a quick learner, so explaining things to you isn’t really all that much trouble.”

“They couldn’t help me.” He met her gaze and her heart sped up as he added in a low growl, “It had to be you.”

“Why?”

“I cannot say, but I know it to be true. You are the one I had to find.”

“I wish understood why, though. It might making helping you that much easier, because there is nothing special about me otherwise. I’m no Tolkien expert. I know nothing about traveling between dimensions and never even gave a passing thought to any movie character walking off the screen and into my life.” She looked down at photo he’d taken of them. If she didn't know any better, she would say they looked every bit a happy couple. That the kiss they’d shared earlier was only one of many to come. That when they went back to her apartment, they’d share another kiss like that, and it would lead straight to her bedroom where they would do their best to destroy one another in the best ways possible.

But…

She did know better. And none of that was true.

Damn it.

With a low, silent sigh, she toggled away from the photo and to her contacts, pulled up Ian’s office number and dialed.

“Dr. Carter’s office.”

“Hi, is Dr. Carter available?”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

She glanced over at Thorin, who’d wandered over to the stone bench known as the Whisper Bench. “Tell him it’s Noelle.”

“One moment, please.”

She watched as Thorin bent to read the inscription on the bench’s back, jumping when Ian said, “Noe? What’s wrong?”

“Why do you always ask me that when I call?”

“Well, usually, it’s because you need my help with something. So, what’s wrong?”

“Ian, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You have to see it yourself. Are you free this afternoon? Like around four?”

“You’re in luck. My last class ends at three-fifty. So, I’ll be in my office from about four on.”

“Okay. Still at Tandon?”

“Where else would I be?”

She smiled. “I’ll see you at four.”

“I won’t leave until I see your pretty face, Noe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Bye, Ian.”

She turned back to see Thorin still at the bench and so walked over to him. “If you sit at that end, and I sit at the far end and whisper, you should be able to hear it.”

He jumped, whipping about as he said, “What?”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” She tucked the phone back into her pocket and pointed at the bench. “Sit.”

He did and she moved to the opposite end of the bench and whispered, “We have to go. Ian’s office is in Brooklyn.”

He stiffened as if she’d shouted it at him, then, with a hint of a grin, whispered back, “Where is that?”

She got to her feet and held out a hand. “It’s not the other side of the world, but it’s about forty minutes from here, so we should go.”

He rose and joined her and to her surprise, reached to link his fingers with hers. “In case we get separated.”

“Separated?” She looked about at the nearly empty park around them. “I think we’re the only ones here.”

“Humor me, if you will.”

She couldn’t deny how comfortable her hand felt in his, how a sudden warmth traveled up her arm to fill her and how it gave her the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this comfortable with a guy. Her relationship with Dan had been the longest and even he didn't make her feel this comfortable. He was never much one of public displays of any kind, and when he’d hold her hand, it felt stiff and more like he did so because he had to, and not because he wanted to.

But Thorin did not give off that air. His fingers threaded with hers easily, his hand warm and relaxed against hers. And as they strolled up toward Eighty-Second Street, his thumb every so often casually brushed hers.

She was almost sorry when they reached the sidewalk and she hailed a cab. But, as she settled in beside Thorin and said, “MetroTech Center in Brooklyn, please,” his hand came to rest on her knee.

She settled back, and without thinking, she let her hand come down atop his. He dressed like a New Yorker, but still wore his heavy rings as well as the ornaments in his hair, and as she traced over the one on his middle finger. “What is this made of?”

“Silver. Mined at Erebor before Smaug came.” He carefully eased it from his finger and caught her by the wrist to turn her hand over, then dumped it into her palm.

It was far heavier than she’d imagined, and warm, of course. But it was also huge, too big for any of her fingers, including her thumb. “Did you forge it or cast it or whatever it is one does to silver?”

“No. It was done by one of the others. Balin, if memory serves. He’s a jeweler. I’m actually a blacksmith by trade.”

“A blacksmith?” She looked over at him. “But, I thought you said you were a king?”

She went to give it back, but he refused to take it. “I am a king. Or I will be again, once my kingdom no longer belongs to a dragon. And keep it. Consider it a thank you for your kindness.”

“Thorin, don’t be silly. I can’t accept this.”

“You can and you will because I’ll not take it back.”

“It doesn’t even fit me.”

“I didn’t think it would.” He closed her fingers over the ring and pressed her hand back down onto her thigh. Then, he covered her hand with his. “What is this music playing? It’s far better than what we heard the night I found you.”

She smiled. “This is Bruce Springsteen. And if anyone asks, Mary’s dress sways.”

“What?”

“Trust me.” She glanced over at him. “What are those cubes, in your braids?”

He smiled. “I explained to you the meaning of the raven, and the word aznâg, and this one,” he touched the braid on the right side of his head, “was a gift from my father, given to me the night before we were to go into battle at Khazad-dûm.”

She nodded, reaching up to touch the smooth braid, over the warm rune. “Is this also silver?”

“It is. They both are.” He turned his head and caught his left braid to lay it across his palm. “and this one says Irak’adad and bâha. They were gifts from my nephews and translate into uncle and friend.”

“Your family is close then?”

“We are, yes. Most dwarven families are. Only my sister and I and her sons are left now. My parents and my younger brother are gone.”

“Oh, Thorin,” she let her hand come to rest on his thick thigh, “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. I’ve made my peace with it, though.”

“Still… Tell me about your sister. Is she younger or older?”

“Younger but she mothers me more than our mother actually did. She tried to keep the boys—Fíli and Kíli—from coming with me on this quest, but they are Durin’s sons and keeping them in Ered Luin was beyond impossible, so I promised her I’d watch over them and keep them safe. And now… I have no clue as to what danger they might be in.”

His expression grew pained, his eyes soft with sorrow that he tried to hide by bowing his head, but he wasn’t fast enough. Noelle gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t abandon them, Thorin,” she told him softly, “at least, not intentionally. You said yourself that Mirkwood is an enchanted place with a lot of dark magic in the air. You had no control over what happened.”

“We were told to remain on the path,” he said without lifting his head, “and I, in my fool arrogance, did not listen. The bridge we needed to cross was in ruin and in our attempt to cross the river or stream or whatever it was, we strayed from the blasted path and now I’m here and they are there and I have no way of getting back to them or seeing how they even are.”

“I promise you, Thorin, I will find a way to get you back where you belong. I don’t know how yet, but I will.” She glanced down at the ring in her grasp, then slipped it back onto his finger. “And you should keep this.”

“Miss Noelle,” his voice was a low rumble as he tugged the ring free again, “I wish you to have this. If nothing else, to remember me once I’ve gone.”

She swallowed hard at that. He’d been in her life all of two days and while she knew he had to return to his own dimension, his own time and place, she would miss him terribly. Still, she smiled as she said, “I don’t think I’m going to forget this or you.”

“Still.” He reached down to her purse and tucked the ring into it. “I’d like you to have it.”

“Thank you.” She settled against him, giving into the urge to rest her head against his shoulder. He didn't seem to mind, but instead drummed his fingers softly against his knee in time to Springsteen’s Thunder Road, in which Mary’s dress either swayed or waved, depending on who listened.

“So, what do you think this friend of yours will tell us?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted without lifting her head. “But, he’s a physicist and might know how wormholes work in the real world. Maybe the end of it moves. Maybe there’s more to it than just location.”

“And if he says there is nothing we can do?”

“Again, I don’t know,” she admitted softly. It wasn’t something she let herself think about, because she didn’t know how he would take being trapped in her world. “I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when and if we get to it. But, if there is a way, we will find it.”

He sighed softly, his fingers going still as Springsteen became Neil Young. She looked over at him. “Don’t care for Neil Young?”

“I like the person we heard before this. What was his name again?”

She smiled. “Bruce Springsteen. When we get back to my apartment, I’ll play you some more of his music. I think you’ll like it.”

He nodded, leaning his head back as he murmured, “I think I will, too. Do you have much by him?”

She smiled. He should only know the true extent of her Springsteen library. “A few discs, yes.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as then and by the time they arrived, dusk was creeping in. She paid the cabbie and turned to Thorin. “This way.”

He remained quiet as she led him through the building to where the offices where and at Ian’s door, she paused and rapped on it. “Anyone home?”

“Noe, is that you?”

“Are you expecting someone else?”

Ian Carter was a giant of a man—almost six and a half feet tall and all long legs and gangly arms—and as he swooped out of his office, he grabbed her in a bear hug and lifted her easily. “Your call was such a nice surprise, Noe. I thought you were going to be in Telluride until the new year?”

Her spine popped from the force of his hug, and for a few minutes, she thought she was probably taller for it, but then he set her down and she realized she was still fun-sized. Oh, well. “I was, but then. I —uh—I had a a change in plans.”

Ian’s dark eyes widened as they fell on Thorin. “Ah, you must be Dan! Noe’s told me about you, and she keeps swearing we’ll all get together but damn, you keep her tied up, don’t you?”

“Ah, Ian—” Noelle shook her head. “That’s not—”

Thorin’s eyes were narrow and cold as he said, “I am afraid you have me confused with another, for my name is not Dan. And I’ve never tied a woman up anywhere.”

“No, Thorin,” she stepped between him and Ian, looking up as she explained, “it just means keeping someone busy. That’s all. He doesn’t mean literally tied up.”

A deep flush swept along Ian’s sharply angled cheekbones. “Ah… sorry… I just assumed… Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Ian Carter, Industry Professor at your service.”

“Thorin Durin,” Thorin replied, his voice void of any emotion. “And I thank you for your assistance in getting me home.”

Ian’s smile wavered as he looked from Thorin to Noelle. “I’m sorry… did I miss something?”

Noelle bit back a sigh. “Can we go inside? I think you’re going to think we—” she gestured first to Thorin, then to herself—“are absolutely nuts when I tell you why we’re here.”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” He gestured to the room behind him. “Come on in.”

Thorin bobbed his head as he passed Ian. “Thank you.”

“Noe, what’s going on?” Ian caught her by the elbow as she try to walk by him. “Are you all right? Where’s Dan?”

“I’ll explain in a moment, I’m fine, and he’s in Telluride, where he decided he’d rather afsêl his partner.”

“He’d rather what?” His hand slipped from her arm and she brushed by him to sit next to Thorin on the far side of Ian’s small metal desk. His office was exactly how one would expect a scientist’s office to look— cluttered with instruments and papers, books piled on one corner of his desk, another stack piled on a chair.

He drew out his chair and folded himself into it. “So, what can I do for you?”

Noelle took a deep breath. “What do you know about wormholes?”

“Wormholes?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I know, bear with me, please? I swear, I’ll try to make it make as much sense as I possibly can in a minute.”

He sat back in his chair, looking from her to Thorin and back. “Well, first off, no one is certain any such thing actually exists. It’s all just theory, mind you. None of it has been proven as yet.”

“I understand,” Thorin rumbled, his hands resting on his thighs. Unlike in the cab, where he drummed along to the music, his hands were still now, just splayed out across his massive thighs like equally massive catcher’s mitts.

“The easiest way to explain what one is would be to take a a sheet of paper,” he lifted a sheet from the pile in his inbox, “and bend it over. The paper represents space as a two-dimensional plane and the wormhole would appear in as a hole and that hole would lead to a three-dimensional tube. That tube leads to a second two-dimensional plane in a different place.

“Now, if one is talking about a Schwarzchild wormhole, that is what’s considered an eternal black hole, but it’d impossible to traverse from Point A to Point B because the hole would collapse too quickly to allow passage.

“But, an Einstein-Rosen bridge—” He smiled. “I’ve lost you already, haven’t I?”

Both she and Thorin nodded at the same time and Thorin said, “Do they exist and if so, how do I find the one that leads me home?”

Ian blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

Noelle took a deep breath. “Ian, you’ve read The Hobbit, right?”

“Well, yeah… you know I have—” Ian’s eyes went wide and his mouth formed a perfect O as he looked from her to Thorin and he whispered, “Thorin Oakenshield. Of Erebor…”

“You know of me?”

Ian nodded. “I do, yes. It was one of my favorite books when I was a kid but—wait… Noe, are you fucking with me here?”

“Ian, I would never fuck with you on this scale,” she told him, glancing over at Thorin, whose expression remained neutral.

“Wait…” Ian focused on Thorin now, his eyes not quite as wide as they had been, “you think you’re Thorin Oakenshield?”

“Think it? No, I know who I am, science man. And I need you to tell me how I find the wormhole that will take me home.”

“The wormhole… Noe,” he looked back at her, “what’s going on? Why does this man think he is a dwarf created by Tolkien?”

“Because he is a dwarf created by Tolkien.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Thorin’s left hand curl into a fist, and without thinking, covered it with her hand. “Look, I know it sounds insane, Ian, but I swear to you, it’s true.”

“But, that’s not possible. Book characters don’t just fall to earth.”

“Well, wormholes connect two planes, right? And if it’s two-d to three-d, why can’t it be possible?” Noelle looked over at Thorin again, who now glowered at Ian. “I mean, he’s here, right? So it must be possible.”

“Unless he’s just insane and—”

“Insane?” Thorin slowly rose from his chair and leaned forward, fists pressed into the fake-woodgrain desktop. “Are you suggesting I am not who I say I am?”

“Thorin, stop.” Noelle grabbed the back of his coat to try to pull him back, for all the good it did. She couldn’t hold him back any more than she could hold back a tiger or a lion. It didn’t stop her from trying, but he didn’t budge an inch.

Ian leaned back in his chair. “I just… I don’t want to see Noe find herself in any danger.”

“She is in no danger from me, science man. And I assure you, I am not mad.”

Noelle got to her feet and caught Thorin’s arm to tug him away from the desk. “Sit down,” she growled, pushing him toward his chair. “This isn’t helping at all.”

Thankfully, Thorin sank back into his chair and she looked over at Ian. “Can we find a way to send him home or not?”

“I—I don’t know. In theory, yes. But… no one has ever been able to do it. It happens only in books and movies.”

“So, I might be forced to remain here?” Thorin’s voice was soft, all traces of anger replaced by hints of disbelief.

“It’s entirely possible,” Ian told him, his voice equally soft and his expression grave. “You came from a novel. A fantasy novel with magic and the like in it. But you’ve landed in a world where that is all mostly make believe and sleight of hand. Theoretically, it was possible for you to traverse a fictional wormhole here, but there isn’t a corresponding real one to get back there.”

Noelle swallowed hard as Thorin sank back in his chair, his face pale and his eyes wide. He shook his head. “I must get back. You don’t understand the importance of my returning to my world. I am needed there and if I cannot get back… No, that is not an option.”

Noelle caught Thorin’s hand, and as his fingers tightened about hers, she asked, “Ian, is there any way to create one?”

“If so, I don’t know how to do it. I could ask around, but I’d just as likely end up in Bellevue for my trouble.” He tapped his long, slender fingers against his desk. “Where did you land when you fell here, for lack of a better phrase?”

“A park. By the pond.”

“Turtle Pond over in Central Park.” Noelle supplied.

“Then that’s most likely where you’ll find the doorway back.”

“We tried it.” Noelle tried to fight down the rising disappointment. “Nothing happened.”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean there is no entry there, though. Maybe you need a key of some sort. Or you weren’t in exactly the right place. I have no idea how fussy wormholes can be, you know.”

“Yeah, but then, how do we know which we need or what we did wrong?”

He shook his head. “If I knew, I’d tell you, Noe. You know that.”

“So, I am trapped here. While my people try to finish an impossible quest…” Thorin’s voice was low and distant and heavy. “I need to find the way back.”

Ian pressed his fingers to his thin lips for a moment. “You could try… I don’t know if it will work, but… oh, what the hell… there’s a bookstore in the Village. Farran’s. It’s been there since the beginning of time and has a deep connection to the metaphysical world and has a huge Tolkien exhibit and section. Maybe that’s where you need to be.”

Noelle rubbed her eyes. “Where in the Village?”

“Tenth Street.”

“Is this village far from here?” Thorin asked softly, almost as if he was afraid of the answer.

Ian shook his head. “It’s not far from here. A fifteen minute cab ride from here. But, it’s closed on Mondays.”

Noelle sighed softly as she looked over at Thorin, who looked about as happy as she imagined he’d look. “We can head over there first thing tomorrow, Thorin,” she told him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Another day. I must wait another day before trying—not before going home, but before I can even try to go home.”

“But if it works, you will be home tomorrow,” Ian told him, his voice oddly gentle. So much so, Noelle looked up at him to see Ian’s expression was no longer one of disbelief but instead of empathy. He might not have believed them at first, but he certainly seemed to now.

“A small consolation. You do no understand the urgency of my situation. I must get back.”

“Is living with Noe that difficult?” Ian asked with a slight grin. “As I assume you’re staying with her.”

Thorin shook his head. “On the contrary,” he said, and Noelle’s stomach lurched at the softness in his eyes when he looked over at her and met her gaze. “She’s been patient with me, helping me navigate your world. Helping me get back to mine.”

Ian’s grin stretched into a warm smile. “She’s a good soul and you’re a lucky man to have crossed paths with her.”

Thorin’s fingers tightened about hers. “I did not cross paths with her. I was meant to find her.”

“Meant to find her?” Ian looked from him to her. “Why?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Thorin confessed. “I just know I was and for that, I will be eternally grateful, for hers is a kind heart.”

“It is and it always has been.”

“Okay, both of you stop,” she broke in as her cheeks grew warm. If she didn't know any better, she’d swear these two men—scientist and dwarf—were trying to outdo one another in their compliments of her. And while it was nice to know they both thought so highly of her, it was more than a little unsettling as well.

The whole afternoon had been somewhat unsettling, starting with Thorin’s kissing her in Central Park, followed by his holding her hand as they made their way out of the park, to his hand resting on her knee in the cab, to his giving her his ring, to now—it all unsettled her and now she thought there was a very real possibility of these two killing one another with complimenting her. It did nothing to calm her already frazzled nerves.

“We should get going, since it’s getting late.”

Thorin stood, tugging on her hand as he rose. “I thank you for your help, such as it was.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. But let me think on the Einstein-Rosen bridge and where you might find the door you need to get back to Middle Earth. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know, Noe.”

She nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Ian. And thank you for not thinking I’m totally batshit crazy.”

“Noe, if he really is from Middle Earth, this would be an amazing find.” He lowered his voice as Thorin moved to the doorway. “Noe, do you know what this could do for me, for this department, if I can prove the existence of an Einstein-Rosen bridge between worlds of this magnitude? From a book to this world?”

“Well,” she hedged, glancing over at Thorin, “actually, he’s not book Thorin, Ian. He’s movie Thorin.”

“Movie Thorin?”

She nodded. “I know, it’s nuts, but from what I remember about the book, that Thorin was way older than this Thorin obviously is, so my guess is that he’s from the movie, not the book.”

“But… how…?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. But, I’ll let you know what we find at Farran’s. Thank you again.”

“I’ll let you know if I figure out where else this doorway might be.”

Noelle nodded and joined Thorin at the door and her hand found its way into his. They didn't speak as they made their way back out into the cold darkness. She shivered, slipping her hand free to button her coat. “So. tomorrow, after breakfast, we’ll trek over to the Village and see what we find.”

He didn't look at all happy about the prospect. “So we can hit another dead end?”

“We have to at least try, don’t we?”

A low, growly sigh rose from his chest and he turned away to walk toward the edge of the sidewalk, where he stared down the street at bright red brake lights glowing along the roadway. The wind picked up, riffling through his dark hair to swirl it this way and that. “Thorin?”

“Is there any point to it? I came into your world in that park. Why would I think I would leave it by way of a bookseller nowhere near that same park? One in a completely different village from this?”

“I—I don’t know, but if we don’t look, we’ll never know.”

“And if we find nothing?”

“If we do, you’d be no worse off than you are now.” She crossed over to him and let her hand come to rest on his shoulder, the warmth of his body rising through the heavy wool of his pea coat. “But, what if we find the doorway, though?”

He didn't say anything, but put a hand up as a yellow cab came down the street and she managed a smile as the cab stopped. Two days in her world and he already knew how to flag down a cab. He was learning.

He held the door for her and then slid in beside her as she said, “One-ten Duane Street, Tribeca, please.”

“Thorin,” she reached over to cover his hand with hers, “we will find your way home. I promise you, we will. I’m not giving up that easily.”

He said nothing, just stared out the window as they sped along the street, but he shifted his hand to bring it palm up, laced his fingers with hers, and gave her hand a squeeze.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Modern Woman #Romance #The Hobbit DoS #The Hobbit BOTFA

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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navybrat817 · 3 years

Text

Run, Little Bunny

Pairing: Charles Blackwood X Reader Summary: A night at the Hollywood Haunted House spells trouble for you and your friend when you encounter Charles Blackwood. Word Count: Almost 4k Warnings: Rape/Non-Con (do NOT read if this upsets you!), explicit sexual content, OC character death. Please read responsibly. 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own!

A late addition to @jtargaryen18‘s Haunted House 2020! This is my first Charles Blackwood fic and changes have been made to fit this fic. I hope you all enjoy! Divider by @whimsicalrogers

"How did you manage to get these tickets again?"

"A gentleman never reveals his secrets," Josh teased with a wink. “I just kept refreshing the page.”

The Hollywood Haunted House became an overnight success when it opened a few years ago. Each year, the owner carefully selected and replicated a famous “haunted” house from the big screen. This year, they chose to recreate Blackwood Manor from We Have Always Lived in the Castle. The tickets sold out months ago. It was no wonder. Sebastian Stan agreed to appear, thanks to his performance as Charles Blackwood. And it was for one night, Halloween.

“Do you think we’ll win the grand prize?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you answered in a sing-song voice. The haunted house this year was somewhat of a treasure hunt. Anyone who found the famous safe got to keep whatever prize was inside. Many assumed it would be cash. And with the price of the tickets, there would still be plenty for the charity donation.

"We both know your grand prize would be Sebastian himself," he joked. Yes, you had a crush on the man. Like so many others. "He's gorgeous and a gifted actor. I won't apologize for my taste," you said before you looked at the clock. "Are we really that late?"

"Shit," he muttered as he glanced at the time, speeding up a bit. You had to drive in from out-of-state. Traffic had been a nightmare earlier, as always, but you didn't realize it set you that far behind. At this rate, would you make it before it closed?

“They’ll let us in, right?” you asked as he drove even faster.

“The amount I paid for these tickets? They’re letting us in,” he promised.

You nodded, hoping he was right. It was like a doomsday countdown as each minute passed. You couldn’t get angry at Josh. It wasn’t his fault. It was also a free ticket since he insisted that it was a gift. Still, you couldn’t hold in your relieved sigh when you saw the house in the distance.

“Shit,” Josh swore again as he drove up the path. There weren’t any other cars there. Did they already wrap things up? Glancing at the clock, you wondered if they had since it was one minute to midnight.

After he stopped the car, you joked, "Would it be pathetic if I begged?"

“Bat those pretty lashes at them and they’ll do what you say,” he joked back, nearly jumping out of the car.

There was a slight chill in the air as you quickly followed. The outside of the house alone looked just like Blackwood Manor. You could only imagine what the inside looked like, if you could get in. Sebastian probably left by now.

When you spotted a figure at the door, Josh called out, "Hey!"

“What? We’re closed!" the man yelled over his shoulder.

“There was traffic and we drove a long way. We still have one minute. I have our tickets right here,” Josh argued once you both reached him, taking the tickets from his coat pocket.

He snatched the tickets from Josh and gave them a quick once over. He scowled at them, as if they somehow offended him.

"Please?" you asked softly.

He turned his attention to you as a smile spread across his face. Something about it made you uncomfortable. It seemed malicious.

“Of course. I’m sorry. Please, go in,” he said, turning back to unlock the door.

You raised an eyebrow at Josh. You weren’t sure what made him change his mind or attitude, but you were glad. “Thank you,” you swore.

“No, thank you,” he replied, holding the door open so you could both go in. “I almost forgot. No phones.” “No photographs?” Josh guessed as he grudgingly handed his over, watching as you handed yours over, too.

“You won’t need them,” he assured you as you went in. “Enjoy your time,” he added happily. He smiled at you again before he slammed the door.

“Weird. I was totally kidding about batting your eyelashes, but I think it helped,” Josh chuckled.

You laughed, too, but you still felt uncomfortable. You ignored it as you looked around. The resemblance was uncanny. It was like you stepped into the film as you stood in the foyer. “Wow,” you whispered.

“Yeah, wow,” he agreed as he stepped forward. “Worth the price of admission.”

“How long do you think it took them to do this?” you asked. The details were spot on.

“It had to take them months to get all of this stuff.”

"If anyone knows, it's you. You are the movie expert," you pointed out. You wondered if that was the reason he decided to come here. You enjoyed the cinema, but he wanted to be famous. Maybe he thought Sebastian would be a good start. “I guess he isn’t here,” you added, unable to hide your disappointment.

“It is after midnight now. I’m sorry,” he said sadly. “But we’re here, so we should make the most of it. Maybe that prize is still available. And as the film expert, I don't think the safe is in the study. That would be too obvious."

"Maybe we should check the parlor," you suggested, nodding in that direction.

"I actually had an idea for a sequel that I wanted to pitch to him," he said as you walked into the room.

"You had an idea, huh? Do tell," you said, gazing around. It was beautiful, but still carried a sense of dread.

"So, Charles killed Constance and Merricat to gain their fortune, right?” he began, waiting for you to nod. It shocked you when you saw the film, but he thought it was a brilliant twist that Charles got away with murder. “He got what he wanted or so he thought. He soon realizes that money doesn't make him happy because he’s alone.”

“So, your sequel would be Charles...what? Falling in love?”

“In a way, he would. He wants love and he ends up finding someone. He decides to make them into the perfect, submissive housewife. Someone to serve and satisfy him. He just has to break them in.” he continued. You didn't respond as you listened. It sounded like a twisted fantasy.

“It would be a dark love, borderline obsession. He would be possessive, violently so. He doesn’t want other men even looking at you.”

“At me? You mean the character?” you corrected him, rubbing your arms.

“That’s what I meant,” he said, shaking his head quickly.

You weren’t sure if it was because it was Halloween or how he was describing it, but you felt the hair stand on your neck. Hearing that made you think of the film and how angry Charles could get. If your friend saw you shiver, he didn’t point it out.

“Will his little submissive run?”

“Yes...but he loves the chase. And when he hunts his little bunny down, he’ll sink his fangs in and never let go. It takes some time, but they realize they can never escape him. They're bound forever and he's finally happy."

“Sounds kinky. I’m also officially creeped out,” you tried to laugh. He sounded serious and likely was.

"You'll thank me one day when it’s on the screen one day,” he chuckled.

His laughter stopped when music suddenly filled the parlor, both of you spinning around.

“Oh, my God,” you exhaled as you saw him by an old record player. Sebastian Stan in the flesh. He was actually there. You hadn’t missed him. His eyes and jawline distracted you momentarily before you took in his outfit. He was dressed like Charles Blackwood and you had to give him credit for really looking the part.

“What are you two doing in my home?” he asked as he looked between you.

You were about to tell him what a huge fan you were, but he was in character.

Josh chuckled and winked at you. “We’re looking for your safe, Charles. Rumor has it there’s a hefty prize inside.”

“Is that right?” he asked, bemused, as his gaze settled on you. You imagined him looking at you many times, but you never expected to see such hunger in his eyes. It was unnerving to say the least. "And you know my name, but I don't believe I have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"Where are my manners? I'm Josh."

"And you, little bunny?"

Blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. He must have heard Josh tell you about his sequel idea. You cleared your throat before you told him your name.

"It's a pleasure," he replied as he walked across the room. It was similar to a predator stalking his prey. "Truly a pleasure," he added with a charming smile as he took your hand and kissed it.

You felt his lips linger on your hand as he waited for you to answer him. "It's a pleasure," you repeated.

"I must say, you're very beautiful. Though your clothing is a bit strange," he said, his hand moving to your waist to touch the fabric.

The tension in the room spiked when he looked into your eyes. There was a burning desire and hunger still there, like he was ready to ravage you. It felt like he was trying to look into your soul.

Josh made a sound beside you, as if to remind you that he was there. "Should I leave you two alone?"

“You should. But before you do, why don’t we discuss what you know about my safe?” he offered, his tone less friendly toward your friend than the charming one he used with you.

“I’d be happy to.”

He finally moved his hand from your waist to take your arm instead. A snifter was waiting as he led you over to his chair. You looked back at Josh who merely shrugged at you. Was this all part of the act?

“Little bunny, you’ll sit here,” he ordered as he sat down, gently patting his thigh. “Or would you rather I call you darling?”

“Whatever you’d like,” you said as you sat on his leg. You weren’t close enough for his liking apparently as he pulled you closer.

“So obedient,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Do you know how to make tea? And cook?”

“I do, Mr. Blackwood,” you responded, playing along with his character as Josh took a seat. “Please, call me Charles,” he smiled, his voice velvety once again as he took his glass. “It’s a bit late for tea and a meal, but we’ll see how well you do tomorrow.”

You blanched slightly at the implication. Did he really think he would take you to bed with him? Of course, he didn’t. It was all part of the show.

“Now, what do you know about my safe?”

“We know there’s a fortune in there,” Josh answered, a small smile on his face.

“And you thought you’d just take mine?” he questioned, his grip tightening on you. There was a slight growl in his voice when he said “mine” and it suddenly didn’t feel like he was talking about money.

"We just want what was promised to us. We came a long way just to see this place and you," your friend teased. He was enjoying this little game, but you didn’t like it. Something was off about this whole thing.

You heard the small gulp as he sipped his brandy. "And what about what was promised to me?"

"I don't understand," Josh replied.

"I suppose you don't," he said thoughtfully, his fingers tracing small circles along your hip as you stiffened. "So, you'll take what's in the safe and go away?"

"As soon as possible."

Charles set the snifter down as he finished. "It is rather late and I'd prefer to get to know my bunny without you here. So the sooner you can leave, the better."

"We came here together, so we're leaving together," Josh said, egging him on. You weren’t sure that was a good idea.

"You dare speak to me that way in my own house?"

"Charles, can you please show him the safe and he'll be on his way?" you asked. You weren't serious, but you had to ease the tension.

"Since you asked so nicely," he replied, gripping your chin to face him. "I'll take you there."

"Great!" Josh exclaimed as he got up, reaching over and grabbing your hand to pull you up. The glare he got in return was enough to make him pause. “I’m sorry. I’m just eager.”

“As am I. The study is this way.”

“Guess I was wrong about the study,” Josh whispered to you as Charles stood up. No, Sebastian. This was Sebastian.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you got into the house, but you were just about ready to leave. The details didn’t make you feel in awe as you followed. It just felt creepy now.

“I thought we’d have to hunt for this prize. This was too easy,” Josh smiled.

“Too easy,” you agreed as the safe was opened. It was shielded, not letting you see what was inside.

“Holy shit,” Josh exhaled when a jewel encrusted dagger was pulled out. “Charles, is this really the prize? That has to be a prop.”

“It’s your prize,” he promised, handing it over.

Josh showed it to you, turning it over to look at both sides. You had to admit it was beautiful, the light making the diamonds shine on the gold handle. There were rubies and sapphires, too. “This has to be worth a ton.”

"Oh, this beauty is worth a small fortune," he said, admiring the knife as he took it back. "It's too bad you'll never get to enjoy it."

You screamed when the knife was shoved into Josh's throat, blood spraying from the wound as it was violently ripped out. His mouth fell open as he tried to cover the wound with his hand, collapsing on the floor.

"J-Josh?!" you cried as blood pooled underneath him, his body blocked as you tried to reach for him. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Why did you do that, Sebastian?"

"Who the hell is Sebastian?" he snarled as he shoved you back with his free hand, his knuckles white as he still gripped the dripping dagger. “Do I need to kill him, too?”

You fell back as you wept. Everything felt off because this wasn't a game. This wasn't Sebastian. This was Charles Blackwood. You had no idea how, but it was. "Josh?!" you yelled, as if that would bring the light back to his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about Josh now," Charles smirked, turning his attention to you fully as your friend bled out. "I must thank him though for bringing what was promised to me."

"What are you talking about?!" you cried. He was crazy.

"There was never a prize."

"No," you whispered, your throat tightening in horror.

"It's...lonely here."

"He soon realizes that money doesn't make him happy because he’s alone.”

"I was promised my own little bunny to play with if I opened my doors for one night...you."

"He wants love and he ends up finding someone."

"Your friend thought he could take you away, but he can't have you. No one else can," he said as you got to your feet.

“He would be possessive, violently so. He doesn’t want other men even looking at you.”

"You'll have the finest clothes. I'll keep a roof over your head and you'll cook for us. You'll keep my bed warm...and my cock."

“He decides to make them into the perfect, submissive housewife. Someone to serve and satisfy him.”

"You're going to love me," he promised, a glint in his eyes.

"It would be a dark love, borderline obsession."

"No! I want to go home!" you shouted. “You want to go home? You ARE home.” “This will NEVER be my home.”

"Then run," he said angrily, pointing past you with the knife.

"What?"

"Run. If you make it, you're free to go. If not, I get to keep you. I'll count to ten. Better run, little bunny."

"This isn’t a game!"

“Ten...nine…” he began as you bolted. "You're actually running?" he laughed at you.

You ran out of the study, your heart pounding as you rushed to the front door. You prayed that this was just a bad dream as you yanked the door open. It had to be.

You froze when you stumbled outside. You couldn't see Josh's car in the distance. The man was gone. Hearing footsteps behind you, you took off again. Tears blinded you as you ran faster. Someone had to help you.

You almost lost your footing as you ran through the garden. You debated hiding, but where could you hide from him? He knew every inch of the place.

“You want our first time to be under stars? That’s romantic, darling,” Charles called as he caught up to you. “...he loves the chase.” You were tackled from behind, a sharp pain shooting through your body as you landed on your hip. You tried to roll free, but he shoved your head in the dirt.

"And when he hunts his little bunny down, he’ll sink his fangs in and never let go."

“Stop, please!” you begged.

“Your spirit is admirable, but I’ll have to teach you to properly beg for me.”

“He just has to break them in."

You whimpered as he rolled you over and brushed the blade along your neck. You didn’t realize he still had it. You felt sick. It was stained with Josh’s blood.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding underneath these clothes,” he sneered, using the knife to cut and tear through the fabric.

The air was cold as it hit your exposed skin. “Get off of me! I don’t want you!”

Charles stopped only for a moment, a sad look crossing his face before it turned to anger. “You don’t want me? Don’t WANT me?! Don’t you fucking say that. I don't deserve to be treated that way!"

You screamed when he raised the dagger. When he brought it down though, you didn't feel any pain. He stabbed it into the dirt beside you. If you could just grab it…

"You'll want me," he growled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head. "I'll show you."

You shook your head in denial as you heard him unfasten his belt and pants. "I'm sorry, Charles," you tried to placate as he roughly pushed your legs apart.

"Oh, you're sorry?" he mocked as he released himself. You looked between your bodies, your eyes wide. You shouldn't have been able to see how angry and red the tip looked in the darkness, but tonight was full of horrifying surprises. "We'll see how sorry you are when I split you open."

"Please, don't!" you begged as you felt the head of his cock against your hole. You weren't prepared for him and you couldn't stop your scream when he suddenly impaled you. Your limbs went weak under him from the pure shock of taking him in. You couldn’t even register the pain immediately as he pulled out and thrust back in.

"Knew you'd be tight," he said smugly as he moved.

You tried to block out the ache building between your thighs, willing your body to stay lax under his. He hammered into you with no regard for your comfort. Was that your punishment for denying him? Or did you commit some other sin in your life?

His grip on your chin was harsh as he brought your gaze back to his. "You look at me when I fuck you, little bunny. Watch me as I make you mine."

True to his word, he forced you to look at him as he slowly began to take you apart. Your legs twitched when you heard praises and filth under his breath. You couldn't block that out anymore than you could block the feel of his balls slapping against you with each thrust.

"Your pussy is divine. It's going to treat my cock well morning and night."

“No,” you whined as your walls began to flutter. He murdered your friend. It wasn't right to feel good.

“I knew you’d love it,” he taunted as he fucked you into the dirt. “Just like you’ll love me.”

The mental anguish threatened to tear your mind apart as Charles took over your body. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him. Home...you wanted to go home. It didn't matter what you wanted as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Shameful moans spilled from your lips before he caught them with his mouth, his tongue moving in time with his hips. The kiss was degrading, humiliation filling you as he brought you higher. Your body was protecting you the only way it knew how right now.

"Keep looking at me," he demanded when he finally let you breathe. It only forced you to inhale his hot breath. The lustful look in his eyes would haunt you until your final moment in this world. Feeling his thick cock defile you would haunt you beyond that.

"Charles...no…" you moaned as heat spread.

"You need to come, little bunny? Do it. Come on my cock before I come in you."

Ecstasy made your body seize, your orgasm rippling through you. As much as you tried, you failed to smother your moans. You didn't mean to let them out. You saw the look of triumph on his face through the fog, the realization making you shake almost as much as your aftershocks. He won. You let him win.

The grunts he let out were deep, his thrusts erratic and ferocious as he continued to drive into you. He was chasing his own pleasure and you knew the moment it hit him as he spilled into you.

That look of victory was still there as he continued to flood your unwilling heat. You would never be clean again.

You shuddered as you lay there, doing your best to focus on your breathing. It didn't help because you were still there. Josh was still dead. And Charles still had his cock buried to the hilt. His face began to blur and it took a moment to realize it was because your eyes had watered again. When you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, a sob forced its way out.

He seemed to take pity on you when the tears fell. “There you go. Just let it out. So pretty when you cry,” he murmured, his thumb briefly wiping them away as they kept coming.

You weakly pushed at him when he released your wrists, the knife beside you forgotten. He wrapped his arms around you which only made you shudder. It was too intimate. "I'll get rid of the body. You’ll draw us a bath," he told you, his hips slowly rocking again. "The garden could use some fresh blood.”

You could only nod as he kept you in the dirt.

"I'm going to take care of you and you're going to take care of me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Charles,” you sniffled.

"They're bound forever and he's finally happy."

You were his little bunny now.

In the present, the man stared at the house with a satisfied smile. He thought his luck had run out, but you showed up just in the nick of time. Another successful year. Another innocent soul claimed. He wondered just which setting he would choose the following year. It didn't matter as long as the house was fed.

"Happy Halloween," he whispered as his eyes went black.

#JsHauntedHouse2020 #J's Haunted House 2020 #charles blackwood #reader #reader insert #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood x you #dark!charles blackwood x reader #dark!charles blackwood #noncon tw #tw rape #dark fic

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 7

Summary: Ransom makes good on his promise and your parents arrive for dinner. But then, you discover something that brings your entire world shattering down around you once more…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap and violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So here it is, the last chapter to this series! I can’t believe all this spun from @jtargaryen18‘s Halloween challenge last year, and here we are 6 months later! Of course, I’d love to thank my writing partner from the earlier chapters, but sadly she’s no longer on Tumblr. Without her none of this would have been possible. I love you SG wherever you are. Thank you to everyone who has read and engaged so far and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The Epilogue will follow next week and trust me, you do NOT want to miss that!!

In this, the reader has a sister, however feel free to interpret the Y/S/N element as sibling instead, if that appeals to you.

Word Count: 8.5k (I’m sorry I don’t do short fics, really I am!!)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 6

“Will you relax?” Ransom drawled from where he sat, sprawled back on the sofa in the main lounge of the house, his denim clad legs crossed at the ankles, his black cashmere sweater torso melting against the cushions. “It’s just your parents, what’s the big deal?” You weighed your reply but instead smiled, he couldn't possibly understand. He wouldn't. "Let me just have this moment, please." He looked at you, his eyebrow arched before he scoffed, “whatever, Sweetheart. But if you’re gonna keep pacing up and down, can you do it in the hallway? The wood flooring is a lot more hardwearing.” With a roll of your eyes you left the lounge, wringing your hands together. This was the first time in months you'd be seeing your parents and it wasn't lost on you the charade you'd have to keep up despite wanting to somehow plea for a rescue. It was also worrying how they were going to react. Especially following the call you’d made a week or so ago, just before New Year’s Eve.

When you’d dialled the number you knew off by heart, your mother had answered. And upon hearing your voice she had shrieked and then the line had gone quiet until your father had spoken your name with a trembling voice. You’d been unable to answer straight away, your own voice catching, before a sob had burst from your throat and the tears had poured down your face. You’d managed a few, choked words of apologies until Ransom had pushed himself up from the seat he had been perched in, silently observing. He curled his arm over your shoulder, giving you a squeeze as you composed yourself. Eventually, you’d managed to calm yourself down and thankfully your dad hadn’t asked too many questions but had accepted your invite to dinner.

And now, here you were, nervously awaiting their arrival.

It wasn’t lost on you that, in their eyes, the fact you had cut them off was your decision, not forced on you by the man you were now sharing a bed with. And that was your other worry, you had no idea how he was going to behave. If Ransom showed your family the same contempt he displayed to his own, your dad wasn’t the type of man who would stand for it. And then what? But you had zero time to think on it as the doorbell rang. Your heart leapt to your throat and your stomach turned acidic. Ransom poked his head out of the lounge and looked at you expectantly, like you were to answer. Adjusting your sweater dress for the millionth time, you walked to the front door and reached for the knob with a shaky hand. You steeled your nerves and blinked hard to dissipate the tears, and opened the door. For the first time in months you looked back into the familiar eyes of your parents. Your mom’s face was pinched, as if she was chewing the inside of her cheeks and as you glanced to your dad you already noticed the daggers he was shooting at the man behind you. To anyone else it would be enough to make them quake in their shoes, but not Ransom. “Mom, Dad.” Your voice sounded alien as you spoke quietly, your fingers grabbing at the bottom of your sleeves as one of Ransom’s hands curled over your shoulder. "Y/N," your dad replied, and the awkwardness officially set in.

"Aren't you going to invite them in, Sweetheart?" Ransom's voice made you jump a bit.

"Yes, please, come in," you stepped aside for them to enter. "Welcome to, erm, our home."

Calling it that felt all sorts of wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Besides, it wasn’t like you could call it what it was, your prison. Your father stepped inside followed by your mother, the foyer now feeling a little crowded. Your mother was quick to pull you in for a hug. But it was brief and not the way she used to hug you, no, this hug felt like it came from a stranger. Your dad’s embrace, however, was everything you remembered. Safety, strength and love and you felt yourself melt into his arms, choking back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest. "We appreciate you coming to dinner," Ransom spoke, breaking the embrace you shared with your father. "It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Ransom." Your dad looked at you as you nodded, wiping the tears from your eyes as he looked to Ransom. “We know who you are. With the news, the papers and Y/N's article, we've probably become more acquainted than you're aware.” He spoke calmly but cooly, gripping Ransom’s outstretched hand with a less than friendly shake, one that would make a lesser man wince. Instead, you saw what you thought was a flicker of amusement on Ransom's face before your dad released his hand and you introduced your mother. She didn’t offer her hand. Instead she gave a sniff and took a deep breath, getting straight to the point as she always did. “Well, this is all very nice and everything but what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Y/N? You disappeared with no trace, we thought you were dead, and then we find out you're not. Instead you’re, with him, choosing not to contact us or speak to us? Forgive me for the brash and abrupt approach, but before we sit down for dinner, we deserve some answers.” Her voice gathered pace and volume as she continued to rail at you, telling you how worried and sick the entire family had been, how thanksgiving and Christmas without you had been awful and whatever else she had on her mind as she spewed her words at you, her face an eyes blazing with anger. You felt sick, never had you meant for any of this to happen, clearly. And you'd secretly hoped Ransom would have seen the devastation he'd caused by his actions, however you knew that was an ill-fated hope just as well. You struggled to speak, the words jumbling around in your head and your mouth bone dry. "I'm so sorry," Ransom sighed. "Why don't we come into the lounge and have a drink or two and we can talk all about it? I know that Y/N was looking forward to your visit and clearing the air."

He looked at you as he ushered towards the lounge, a hidden smugness to his face that only you could detect. He thought he'd just played the hero, the prince saving his distressed princess. “Good idea,” your dad nodded, his hand gently on the base of your mother’s spine, “come on, Honey.” “Straight down, second on your right.” Ransom informed as your parents headed off a little ahead of you.

“Now, remember, what you tell them has to match what you said to Blanc.” Ransom took your hand in his and spoke quietly as you both began to follow your parents. “I. Know.” You grit though your teeth and jerked your hand free of his. He stopped dead and turned to face you, and for the first time ever you saw something akin to fear on his face, you were resisting that much anger. “Y/N...” he started but you shook your head. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt them or me do you? That or you simply still don’t care.” You hissed before you took a deep breath and drew yourself up tall. “But, we’ll just go in there, spin a load of more lies and that’s it, all done isn’t it?” He blinked before his jaw set and he shook his head. “I’m warning you...” “What else is new?” You sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything and I’ll still be here when they leave.” You stepped a pace or two in front of him and entered the lounge. Your parents were sitting on the couch you'd become very familiar with while Ransom moved straight for the drink cart. "Mr. Y/L/N, can I interest you in a top shelf scotch?" "Mom," you said softly as the conversation between your dad and Ransom faded out, "Ransom and I have a great white wine if you'd like or..." "Scotch is fine," she interrupted you, a stone cold look to her disappointed face. Ransom served the drinks, handing you your preferred wine with a kiss to your head. You watched how your parents interacted with him, the way your father watched every calculated step, the way your mother shot daggers in the two of you as you sat opposite them on the love seat. You leaned forward so as to move a bit away from Ransom, however, he was quick to put his arm over the back of the love seat, his hand able to still touch you. “So, erm, how’s....” “Your sister? Nanna? Granddad? Who would you like to start with?” Your mom took a sip of her drink and you dropped your eyes, your gaze focussed on your hands as they rubbed together.

"I'm sorry, okay?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I know you’re angry and upset and you have every right to be but... I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” “That detective man, Blanc, and the police... they said you didn’t want us to know where you were...” “I didn’t.” You choked on the lie a little. “My head was a mess and...” you sniffed as you felt Ransom’s fingers graze the skin on the back of your neck as you looked at your mom. “Mom, please, please don't make tonight continue with vicious jabs and vile glares. I'm sorry, to you, to everyone. I was...." you stopped and centred yourself. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do." "Why don't we just get this out of the way then maybe we can move on with our evening?" Ransom suggested and your father nodded in shocking agreement. "Let's let her explain, Dear. She said she made a mistake and there were good reasons she couldn't come to us, I'm sure. Let's just hear her out." Your father was always the more sensible one. You mother took a shaky breath and looked at you and you swallowed before you started to talk, the lie you had rehearsed in your head slipping from your lips. “I erm, I was having a bit of trouble at work and everything just got too much and... well, I don’t know what happened, a breakdown or whatever,” you took a deep breath, “I just needed to get away, from everything.” “Including us?” Your mom asked and you shook your head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just...” "You know, it doesn’t matter what you say to explain because frankly, I won't understand but I do hope that you never have to experience what we went through. Ever." She deadpanned. "I do believe that is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. I encouraged her approach and didn't discourage the fact that she wasn't contacting you or anyone she was close with." Ransom sighed, feigning concern for your parents.

You knew what he was doing, the Master Manipulator was coming out in him and you knew there was no going back, no. It was as if Ransom said 'challenge accepted' in winning your parents over. Just, so you assumed, the night would end and you'd be happy in his arms and they'd never think twice about your brief disappearance again. “We hadn’t been seeing each other that long, and my reputation isn’t the greatest. But I should have put my own concerns aside and seen that the way we were going about things was wrong and I should have insisted she reached out. You see, me and my family aren’t close and I sometimes forget that we’re the ones that aren’t normal.” "We hadn't known she was seeing anyone," your mum stated. She was out with her claws, not going to let Ransom nor you off so easily.

"Well, I'm not like Y/S/N, Mom. I don't just bring home whomever I'm taking to bed that month." You'd said it before you could stop it. Never had you said something like that before about your sister, nor spoken to your mother like that. And you didn't miss the twitch of a smirk to the corner of Ransom's lips, telling you he was a bit proud. Surely, you didn't want him to be rubbing off on you in that way. "I'm sorry, that wasn't how I meant it. I just knew I had to be more careful in sharing everything. Like he said, he's not got the best rap, but, after my interview on him, well I guess I just found him intriguing and-“ “Ah, yes," your father now spoke up, cutting you off, “the smear and redact. Believe me, Ransom, we're very familiar with your reputation and our daughter's initial thoughts on you. Which is why you can see how we were a little surprised, once the initial shock of her supposed death wore off, that the two of you were... together." “I understand.” Ransom nodded. “And I would feel the same in your shoes. But, well, I guess after the interview things just kind of spiralled from there. I don’t really know how it happened myself, to be honest, I’m just glad it did.” As if he was sealing the deal, he leaned toward you and pressed his lips to your temple. You sighed and gave him a smile. This bastard was smug enough to start shifting the tone in the room with a metaphorical snap of his fucking fingers and you watched it work on your parents. The ice slowly melting away, the glacial peak softening around your mother. And then the metaphorical snap became a real one as he moved his arm from round you, clicked the fingers of both hands and then slapped his left palm with the underside of his right fist with a flourish as he flashed a smile round the room. “Okay, so....who’s hungry?”

Your parents both raised their eyebrows and as your mom looked at your dad, you saw him shake his head ever so slightly and she took a deep breath, before she turned back to Ransom and you, a small smile on her face. “Dinner sounds great.” "Sweetheart, after you," Ransom politely shifted to the side so you could rise and lead the way. He turned back to your parents, "we wanted to make sure we were able to spend as much time together without the chore of preparing and cleaning up after so we had dinner brought in. Y/N had it all set just before you arrived." You shot him a glare as you moved by him, your mother and father behind you, Ransom pulling up the rear. Sure enough, still warm and catered were four place settings at the table in the large dining room across and down a bit from the lounge. Your parents sat down across the table from where you and Ransom stood, silver dome lids obscuring your eyeline as you sat. Oddly, you'd never eaten in the dining room before. It was your room in the basement, the kitchen table or the coffee table in the lounge. Red wine and cutlery were already set along with water. Your parents and Ransom set their scotch glasses near the wine. Your dad arched an eyebrow at the ostentatious nature of it all and you caught his gaze as he gave you a kneeling smirk. With a laugh, you realized that someone should at least remove the lids, and since you were the host, you rose from your chair and bent over the table a little, reaching for the knobs of their domes. You stacked them together and sat back down, pulling yours and Ransom's as you went.

As you settled down to eat, your parents both complimented the food before a little silence fell as you all ate, the occasional clanking of cutlery against the porcelain plates ringing out across the large room. Ransom made a few comments here and there about the food from the company you’d ordered from being good, as usual, your parents agreeing before a light conversation struck up about the holidays and various other mundane topics, all as if you were close and the conversation prior hadn't happened. Like it was a regular Sunday family dinner. All the time, you spotted your parents growing more and more comfortable with the situation, and you felt yourself relax a little, hoping and praying that things would keep amicable.

And then, after another spell of silence you heard your mother clear her throat. "So, Ransom, what is you do? I never gathered that from…well, from…” she trailed off and Ransom took a dep breath. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Y/L/N, not a great deal until recently. Just another way Y/N managed to help me change my life around." He looked at you with appreciation. "She made me see that living my life riding off people’s coat tails wasn’t really anything to be proud of.” He paused to take a sip of his scotch before he cut another piece of his steak. “Now I’m writing. I have a couple of things on the go and a few from my grandfather that he never finished so, hopefully, they’ll take off.” This bastard! You could not believe the bullshit that so easily sprang from his mouth. It was fascinating and yet absolutely disgusting at once. You found yourself convinced, and not for the first time, that he actually believed the shit he talked. "What's your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?" You father queried, after swallowing down his steak with his wine, saving his scotch for after. “Not at all,” Ransom swallowed his food. “Another area I’ve taken inspiration from, it’s based on a private detective.” He gave a chuckle. “I’ll be handing out a lot of royalties and dedications at this rate.” "Just a private detective?" You pressed, having wondered yourself as he'd told you once before you were an inspiration. He looked at you, smirking a little. “I’ve told you, Princess, I’ll let you read it when the first draft is done.”

Your father eyed you as Ransom spoke of pet names and inspirations. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze, entertaining Ransom's portion of the conversation but you found them quickly fluttering back to those kind eyes that matched yours. At that point, your dad shot you a sweet father-like wink before clearing his throat and speaking. "So, let's not beat around the obvious, this is awkward." He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll just come right out with it. What could your future intentions be with my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" You surely hadn't seen that coming. Ransom blinked a little before he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep her as long as I can, Sir.”

At that, his hand curled over your knee, giving a gentle squeeze and you took a deep breath, drawing your back up straight as his hand gently started to trail further up towards your thigh, fingers still hot on your skin through the layer of your thick tights. You cleared your throat, and moved a little, and Ransom removed his hand, a smirk blatantly evident on his face.

“Good to know.” Your dad reached for his wine again, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean the lease has gone on her apartment now and we turned her room into a gym the moment she moved out.”

“Oh purlease!” Your mom scoffed, “a gym. By that he means he has a rowing machine and a bunch of weights that serve as nothing more than expensive door stops.”

At that Ransom gave a full belly laugh, his head tipping back with just the right amount of humour. Not too much to appear fake, but enough to seem like the exchange had genuinely amused him. He almost had you fooled too.

Bastard.

The rest of the dinner past with fairly amicable chat, the ice well and truly broken. Ransom and your father struck up a pleasant conversation about football and then baseball, Ransom confessing that he hadn’t been following either sport much recently but also nodding when your dad suggested that perhaps they could catch a game sometime soon, in a bar. At that you had smirked into your glass, as you knew the thought of going to a place surrounded by a load of loud, drunken members of the public would be Ransom’s idea of hell. The idea that he might just have to follow through on your promise amused you, a lot.

Eventually, your parents both announced that they should be going, and the warmth and happiness that had descended on you began to slowly seep away as you hugged them both good bye. As they headed down to their car, you stifled down a sob as you waved them away, realising you had no idea when you’d be seeing them again. That was on Ransom, for him to decide when and if you deserved it.

But, you’d played his game. You’d behaved. He said he wanted you to trust him, to be content with him. Surely, he would realise that this was the happiest you’d been since he snatched you, and if you continued to behave then he would have no reason to keep you from seeing them for so long again.

With a sigh you turn away from the door and step back inside, Ransom just behind you. You stopped and waited for him to close the door and lock it. He gave you a little twitch of a smile.

“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I expected.”

You rolled your eyes.

"You were great, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you won them over. I doubt they suspected anything by the time they left." Your words didn't cut him, they cut you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, "anyway, I'm going to go clean up. I'll meet you upstairs."

"What, no 'thank you'?" He piqued.

You turned back to him, "Thank you, Ransom. For allowing my parents to come over."

“That wouldn’t be sarcasm, now would it?” He arched a brow, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, no, not at all," you overly pouted, stepping up to him, running your hands over his chest to seal your own sarcastic ploy.

His hands were quick to grab your wrists and oddly there was an air of excitement to your eyes.

“What on earth is there to possibly be sarcastic about?” You continued and he scoffed.

“It’s a good thing I kinda like your sass.”

You simply quirk your eyebrows and give a small shrug before attempting to turn away. However, Ransom still had a hold of your wrists and he kept you rooted near by.

“Ransom, what...”

“Leave the dishes, the maid comes tomorrow. I pay her enough, she can deal with it.”

You scoffed, “you’re such an asshole.”

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than suggested.

Since your little tryst in his precious car a week ago, he'd been far more touchy-feely, needy even. And in your eyes, Ransom Drysdale didn't do needy. However, this neediness served a purpose. You were able to keep him soft in all but one place, manipulating his needs for your own.

“You want me to come to bed with you?” You playfully quipped, cocking your head to one side.

“You want me to beg or something, Y/N?” His voice lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I can make it a demand not a request.”

“Not beg, no.” You ignored his threat. “But a please wouldn’t go amiss.”

His controlling hands moved your arms around his neck before they fell away to your waist. His forehead bent into yours and his nose brushed against the tip of your own. "Please, come to bed with me, baby," he whispered against you.

You were smirking inside as his lips met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue gently flicking through your lips and sliding against yours.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It was a quick swoop, one that completely caught you off guard as he pulled you off your feet, his arm around your back while the other was hooked under your legs. His lips were on yours as he carried you to the staircase, not ever missing a beat or step, his tongue gliding over yours as he walked.

You didn't know how the two of you had made it up to your bedroom, and without incident but, the next thing you knew, you were led flat over your bed, his body caging you in.

“You said I did well.” You looked at him and he blinked, his brow furrowing a little. “How well?”

Silently as you waited, hoping he would take the bait.

And he did.

“Very well.” his eyes searched yours and you bit your lip.

“Well enough for me to see them again?”

"If you want, maybe lunch with your mother," he answered, kissing over your jaw and down your neck between each phrase.

You stilled, shock hitting your system and just how easily he had offered that up, you hadn’t even had to try. Noticing your change in body language Ransom paused and looked at you. “What? Don’t you want to?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean...” you stopped yourself short of saying what you had been about to, that you were his damned prisoner and until a week or so ago hadn’t left the grounds at all in months. You swallowed as Ransom sighed.

"Trust, remember, baby," he leaned back on his knees between your legs. "Call her in a couple of days, set up lunch."

“And you trust me to do that?” You swallowed. “No stupid tricks or mind games?”

"I won't be far behind." There it was, the stipulation. That silent warning heeding a tone left unsaid. “That said, I’m kinda hoping we’re past the point of me having to remind you about certain things to make you come back.”

"I understand."

Ransom shook his head, licking his lips. “No, I don’t think you do.”

There was a tone of sadness almost to his voice and you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours and then you understood.

This went right back to the core of all this. He wanted you to want to come back. Not to simply do it because you have to. It was the ever present chink in his armour, the one thing you’d been able to exploit.

And, if you were being totally honest, could more than likely learn to live with the situation if you could have some kind of grasp and control, because that’s what this was about. That ever present power struggle and desperation he has within him to be more than people simply assumed him to be.

In a twisted way, you were almost proud to see the difference in his behaviour over the last few months was insurmountable. Whether that was directly down to you or not, you couldn’t be sure, but something had made him tap into that part of himself that could show reasonableness, rationality and, dare you suggest it, compassion.

Whilst you knew you’d never forget how he had taken you, against your will, or the pain and violence he had inflicted upon your body, maybe, in time, you could forgive.

Because he simply hadn’t known any better.

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke softly, sitting up to caress his cheek. His evening stubble scratched at your palm.

His eyes squinted shut, holding back an emotional response to her promise. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't. He physically could not bring the words out from his throat. So he did what he had always done, or thought he could, and that was to show her. Show her what he wanted to say. His lips pressed into the palm of her hand and as her fingers rubbed along his ear and behind his head, his lips travelled the length of the soft skin of her forearm until he pressed a delicate kiss to the crook of her elbow.

Turning his head, he caught her lips in a soft kiss which grew deeper as he pressed his body into hers, grinding his hardness against her groin. He felt the exhale from her nose against his cheek as his tongue muted the groan from her throat. His free hand skated up her thigh, to the hem of her sweater dress, bunching it in his fist. At that point, her hand gently wrapped around his wrist and he stopped, pulling away to look at her, his brow creased in puzzlement.

“Let me.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She sat up and he leant back as she did, her hand against his chest, guiding him how she wanted him. As her hands fiddled with his flies, his eyes never left hers. When she tugged on the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down, taking his boxers with them and he gave a slight sigh at the relief his rock hard dick was now free from it’s constraints.

“Feel good?” She smirked at the sound he made.

He nodded, “yes”, his voice gruff and gravelly.

No sooner had she said it, she’d taken him in her mouth. Instinctively, he bucked upwards, his hands settling in her hair, head falling back against the pillow as he hissed.

When his hips rutted upwards a second time, she moved back, releasing him with a pop and he glanced down at her, his face full of frustration but she simply smirked at him.

“Stop moving."

The control of the situation wasn't his, it was hers and he was fully aware of it as she changed her pace, quick-quick-slow and if he squirmed she stopped.

A roll of his balls between her hand made him shudder. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “fuck, Y/N!”

She responded by taking him to the back of her throat, and the noise that came from his was halfway between a growl and a whimper as it stumbled from his mouth.

On and on this went, and every time she brought him to the edge and he couldn’t control his movements she stopped. It was a delicious torture, but one he was fast reaching his limit with.

“Fuck, baby, I…” his hands raked through her hair as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He moaned loudly, “I gotta…”

"No," she purred, kitten licking the slit in his head, the precum dripping onto her tongue. Her lips enclosed over him again, short bobs until she was making long strides at deep throating him.

She squealed as his hands tightened around her hair, squeezing at the strands to pull her back but she kept her pace, his hips giving way to a violent thrust to the back of her throat as he came hard, his spend shooting deep, coating her inside. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not letting up on his grip until he was done trembling in euphoria.

Then in a beat he flipped her to her back and hand his hands over the waistband of her tights, "that wasn't smart, Sweetheart," he growled.

His eyes flashed in challenge as she giggled and whispered, "I thought it was."

The force of him tearing her tights as he pulled them away from her legs bothered neither of them, her thin panties soaked and leaving a wet trail down her leg as he removed them, had him salivating.

"You think it's funny? I'm gonna see how you like it," he challenged.

Ransom wasted no time in taking a fast swipe at her leaking cunt with his tongue and Y/N cried out as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen and throbbing clit. Her hands went straight to his hair, her knees practically boxing his ears as she curled her body towards his ample assault.

His long arm slid up her body, over her tummy between her beasts as his splayed his fingers open across her skin, trying to press her back into the mattress. As she complied, she gave a gripping tug to his longer locks and Ransom emitted an elicit growl against her pussy.

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, the sound sweet in his ears.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he spoke against just above her mounded flesh, whilst his fingers sought a wet refuge. He wasted no time in sliding two in, middle and ring fingers, slipping in a first, then second knuckle deep then scissoring inside her until they were all the way in.

His lips curled around her clit as hers had done to his head, humming over the bud of pleasure, a pressure she nearly exploded over.

"Oh, no, you don't get to do that yet," he stated firmly. The command made her twitch under him, her breath audibly hitching in her chest. "You're gonna cum on my cock as I fill that pussy up."

"Fuck, Ransom, please," she begged.

"It's not funny now is it?" He slipped away from her body, sitting back on his heels and removed his own sweater. "Get naked, Princess."

He watched as she struggled to strip of the heavy sweater dress she wore, a stark difference to the fearful prize he had to himself months ago. Now she was his and he loved every single moment of it. From her sassy, smart mouth to the way she took his dick on demand. Ransom slipped his pants away, the two of them both naked and awaiting what was next. He wanted to flip her onto her tummy, rail her from behind while she took it on her hands and knees, keening at him as he thrust into her.

But instead, he spread her legs wide and slotted his thick cock between her legs, her ankles locking around his narrow hips as he thrust in and gave a naughty twist of his hips. Slow, deep, nasty ruts into her core bounced her tits just a little and he found the wanton cries of her need to be enticing enough to lap at her nipples and breasts, licking and nipping at her skin. Grinding into her as he licked and kissed his way up her neck to that spot that made her cave in at the base of her jaw, jointed just below her ear.

Her hands wound their way into his hair again and she gripped the strands, giving a pull back, restraining his neck a bit before she let up, allowing his head to drop a pinch.

Chills covered his sweat sheened skin as she whispered, "harder" into his ear. His body quivered and his stomach fluttered.

"Fuck, yes." He pulled out and flipped her to her tummy, like he'd wanted to do before. "On your knees, baby. Let me see that pussy."

She positioned like he demanded, a little sway of her hips telling him she was ready. A swift spank to her rounded ass and she cried out as he slammed home.

"Oh, baby," she mewled as he filled her from behind, bruising fingertips pressing into her hips.

Her lips praising him, using his nickname for her on him ignited a fire in his belly, his hips snapping harshly against her, his balls slapping against her clit. But it wasn't his pace and the pressure building in his body that was causing him to bury deep inside her, his head rubbing that g-spot that was making her moan filthy words. No, it was the look she gave as she turned her head to just peer over her should the same minute he was throbbing to cum inside her.

"I'm...fuck, fucking cum, baby girl," he whimpered, desperately holding back so she could cream over his cock.

And cum she did, her pulsating walls gripping him in a tight squeeze as she pulled him in with a force, literally crying out his name as she came. Her body practically convulsing in pleasure as he filled her up with his seed. The two of them collapsing against the expensive sheets, his body led over hers, still sheathed inside her as they both sagged and panted.

As if high on the throws of their ecstasy, Ransom kissed along her back with heavy lips and hooded eyes. He could taste the saltiness of her skin, the dampness of sweet sweat a leaving a wet coating over his lips. And when he could feel the blood return to his extremities, he ever so gently pulled out of her, his body sore and tired. She whined at the feeling of his weight escaping her body, but he was quick to fill that void, replacing it with the heat of his frame as he pulled her close, allowing her head to rest against his bare and sculpted chest. He pressed his lips onto the crown of her head.

"Sleep, baby," he whispered. "Just relax and sleep."

***** For weeks things were good, maybe even really good. Ransom was giving you more freedom, not yet unattended, but you weren't locked away. He'd made do on his promise.

You had a great lunch with your mother, at the Country Club, in which he'd set up. He'd driven you there, waited in the bar but could easily keep an eye on you. Whilst he might have had ulterior motives that were slightly more sinister than merely being there to keep an eye on you in case you had a panic attack (the excuse you gave to your mother), all in all you didn’t mind. You, too, didn't doubt he paid the waiter a hefty tip to stay nearby as he'd checked on your table more often than most or necessary, again, you didn't mind.

But despite his hovering, a point you'd made when you'd returned, he promised he trusted you so to save the pains of an argument, you let it go. You'd kept your own promise, never to drop a hint to your mother or anyone else that you weren't less than a free woman.

As the days neared Valentine's Day, Ransom seemed to be more touchy than usual and more than once you'd caught him softly staring at you. His eyes conveying more emotion than they did. Not unlike the first few nights when things had drastically changed between you in November. And when the day arrived, you both exchanged gifts after an early morning wakeup call that you most certainly did not mind. Ransom seemed genuinely pleased with the new silk scarf you’d ordered, having thought it would be a nice replacement for the one he had left at the mansion and point blank refused to return to collect.

For your gift, he handed you a small white envelope. Giving him a puzzled look, you opened it and pulled out a small card.

‘In our favourite room you'll find, your gift my beautiful Valentine.’

Instantly you felt an uncomfortable cold feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed a little. It was a clue, exactly like the ones he had set for you all that time ago on Halloween the previous year. But, as you blinked and looked at him, you saw the expectation on his face and had to remind yourself that this was different.

This was not the same man.

"Is it at least wrapped in a bow, so I know it's mine?" You asked and he smirked a little, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

"Trust me, you'll know when you see it."

With a final look at him, you climbed out of bed and pulled on your silk slip before you headed down the stairs. As soon as you’d read the clue, you knew he meant the study. But, when you opened the door, you started to wonder if you’d made a mistake as there was nothing there jumping out at you, at all.

You started rummaging through the stack of things on the desk, looking for anything that resembled a gift. In your haste, you accidentally knocked small stack of notebooks over the edge of the desk. You rushed to get them and straighten them up, hoping not to mess up the order of things he'd had piled together. The moment the leather-bound journal like book touched your fingers, a jolt of curiosity ran through you.

You opened the cover and ran your fingertips over the dried ink that sat engraved on the pages, a bold and all capitalized print to the handwriting. Not a surprise from a man who's harsh overture played constantly on the surface. Your eyes scanned and scanned the scroll, a frown creased your brow as you registered the meaning of all his notes.

These weren't just any sort of notes, these were his footnotes for his book. And that now disorganized stack of papers that moments ago littered the floor, you looked at them again and realized there among the typed and printed pieces of paper, was his manuscript.

Hesitating, you picked it up. The front page was plain bar the words. ‘Murder, He Wrote’ and you scoffed at the fact that was the title of the article that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. Mind you, he had said you were a muse of sorts so maybe that was his way of tribute.

You flipped through, skimming the pages, finding yourself strangely proud if you will, that he’d actually finished it, well what appeared to be the first draft anyway. It was indeed about a private detective, by the name of Arnie Bronze, who was hot on the tale of a missing woman called Lucy Roberts who had vanished in mysterious circumstances.

You skipped on a few pages, the narrative shifted to that of focussing on the so called killer, a man named Riley, and you realised that Lucy wasn’t dead as anticipated, she was being held captive.

In Riley’s basement.

You felt your stomach clench as you focussed in on a small snippet of dialogue, one that was extremely familiar.

‘I like this,’ Riley toyed with the straps to the bra Lucy was wearing, his middle finger tracing the outline of the strap against her skin before his lips followed the same path.

‘You should, you chose it,’ her voice was quiet, but still there it was, that unmistakable undercurrent of disdain she carried for him visibly present, as always.

Riley merely chuckled, ‘like I chose you, huh.’ At that, she blinked and looked at him, and he flashed her a smile. Oh, if only she understood exactly why…

What. The. Fuck?

Was he writing about you? Or had he already written this and was merely acting out his sick fucking fantasy. The answer to that became apparent when you tossed the manuscript down and reached for his book of notes.

It was littered with note after note, graphic accounts of the things he’d done to you, along with little questions and observations, how he could turn that into passages for his book. Your breath began to quicken and you turned the pages faster and faster, not needing to read his notes in the slightest as you could remember every sordid little detail for yourself.

Eventually you found the last page. This one contained two simple lines, the first from the night of Harlan’s memorial when he’d arrived home completely soaked.

Memorial was a shit show, as anything is when the fucking Thrombey’s are involved. Y/N made hot chocolate. Held a conversation I actually enjoyed.

This contained no side note as to how this could be used within his book, almost as if it was simply a journal entry, but you didn’t really have time to dwell on that, as your eyes flicked to the line underneath which carried no date.

Original plan changed, no longer going to get rid of when purpose served. Storyline of book will diverge at this point.

'When purpose served'. Well, it didn’t take a genius to work that out.

You threw the book down onto the desk, the room swimming around you as both your hands covered your mouth in shock and horror. You were sick to your stomach, the bile acid in your stomach turning acrid, and you wanted to wretch.

He’d meant to kill you.

“So, do you like my gift?”

The voice made you scream and you jumped, turning to face the doorway where Ransom was stood, his sweats hung low on his hips, arms folded over his bare chest as he leaned against the frame.

“What?” you blinked, swallowing, the word nothing more than a trembling whisper. “You mean you wanted me to find this?”

“You asked me about being my muse.” He shrugged. “As you can see, you were much more than that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn't hold back the gag in your throat and you quickly turned into the waste bin by the desk, spewing your empty stomach into it. The bile burned your throat as it came up. With a shaky back of your hand, you wiped away the remnants of your episode and leaned forward on the desk, your free hand palm flat against the mahogany.

You were disgusted, that much was painfully true, but you were now terribly afraid for your life. A feeling that hadn't come over you in four months. You felt just as you had that very night, terrified, alone, and fighting a sense of chill that crept through your body and deep into your bones. Your eyes, big and brimming with tears looked up at him and your mind went numb in processing the situation. No quicker than you had just vomited, you felt a pang of hurt, your heart ripping from your chest as everything settled within you. You had accepted this, this fate that had been laid out for you. You were accepting him and the life you were being forced to live. You accepted the beast that had begun to care. But he was merely a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true monster you'd always known to lie in wait just under the surface.

Your brows creased and your heart raced. You felt the bubbling of a scream start deep in your churning belly, your own monster vying to climb its up your chest and out of your throat. You were angrily screaming on the inside long before your voice sounded to the outside, piercing the room in a shattering, blood-curdling banshee cry of anger.

“This…” you picked up the notebook in your right hand, throwing it at him violently, “this is the reason you took me?”

“Yes.” He didn't even dodge the thickly bound object as it hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground.

“You...fucking asshole.” You spat, angrily swiping your arm across the desk. The neatly stacked piles of papers scattered like leaves falling from a tree as they fluttered to the floor. “And to think, I actually started to believe myself that there was more to you than everyone said, that underneath all of that bravado and narcissistic, downright nasty bastard exterior there was something or someone that maybe, just maybe was worthy of caring for! ” Your voice was loud, echoing off the wall of his study as you screamed at him. “But you kidnapped and raped and hurt me in ways I never thought possible for what? So you could write a goddamned book?”

Hot tears coursed down your face as you trembled, staring back at the utter monster who stood before you, his face stony as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then you planned to kill me once I no longer served a purpose? Well, tell me, how long have I got?”

“It’s not like that anymore.” Ransom took a deep breath as he stepped forward. He was calm, too calm and instantly you took a step back. “That was my initial plan, yeah, but what I wasn’t banking on was how being around you would make me feel.” He swallowed as he licked his lips. “I couldn’t get rid of you like I originally planned once you served your purpose. Because I love you.” Your mouth dropped open at his confession, utter horror coursing through your veins as you realised what he was saying. The chances of you getting out of this were depleting by the second. He really was completely fucked in the head. “No, no you don’t!” You shook your head, “this...is not love, Ransom, this is obsession, it’s...” He cut you off as he surged forward, his lips pressing to yours. You placed your hands on his chest, shoving hard as you turned your face away, screaming loudly at him to leave you alone. In an easy movement he spun you round, his arms clamping around yours pulling them behind you as he held you in place, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed his lips to your neck. “I know deep down you love me too...” his breath was hot on your neck, voice still eerily calm as his hips pushed forward and you could feel his erection digging into the curve of your spine. “Fuck, this is what you’ve done to me, feel that, Sweetheart? You wrecked me, and now I need you. It’s that simple.” At that he pushed you forward, harshly bending you over his desk, one large hand securing both of yours being your back, your body twisted in a warped recreation of that time he’d used your sweater to restrain you all those months ago. You struggled but he simply twisted your arm further, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as his other hand roughly hoisted up your night-dress. “You’ll say it eventually.” He stated calmly as you heard that tell-tale rustle of fabric as he pushed down his sweats. “It might take another spell in the basement to make you realise, but you’ll come round.” “It doesn’t work like that.” You sobbed, your voice cracking as his hand let go of your arms and slid up to your neck, reaching round your throat. His fingers curled round your neck as he pulled your head back, his mouth nipping at your neck before he pulled back, his face inches from yours as his icy blues stared locked onto your eyes. They were cold, dangerous and you shook your head, tears pouring down your face. Your lip trembled as you closer your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again, resigning yourself to the fact that this next line might just seal your fate and wind up with you losing your life. But right now, that would be a blessed way out. “I can’t love you simply because that’s what you want.” “Oh Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his lips ghosting over yours, “I know that. I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, but the only person you’re fooling is yourself. I just want you to admit it.”

“I won’t.” You stuttered, “never, Ransom.”

“Oh, Y/N. Haven’t you learned by now? I always get what I want, including this, you’ll see.” With a harsh thrust forward he pushed inside you, making you scream at the burn thanks to the fact you weren’t ready for him, at all. He gave a groan as he grabbed at your hips, your pelvis jolting painfully into the edge of the hard wooden desk you were bent over. “As my granddad used to quote,” he pulled back before delivering another deep thrust harshly into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as you closed your eyes, scrunching them shut as your cheek rest against the desk, tears leaking from your eyes, “we all become stories in the end.”

He gave another deep rut forward as he ground into you, his breathing deep.

“Now it’s time to rewrite ours, Princess.”

*****

Epilogue

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #knives out

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