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onlyprincey · 11 months

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Lost Sunshine: Fragments of Loss

warnings: mourning, character death, hurt no comfort (yet)

mentions: @auggient

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August was dead.

It was a beautiful day when the news was broken to him.

A person approached Princey with a hesitant expression, their eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. They opened their mouth to speak, their voice trembling slightly as they broke the news.

"I'm sorry...found... Auggie... gone.."

Truthfully, most of their words didn't register in the 19 year old's head, only a select few words actually processed, and as the implications laid out, the words hung in the air, heavy and unbearable, piercing through Princey's heart like a thousand sharp needles.

Princey's blank stare met the gaze of the messenger, his mind struggling to process the devastating blow. For a prolonged moment, silence hung between them, the weight of the truth threatening to crush Princey's spirit. The other person shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his unreadable eyes, the pain and disbelief reflected in their own expression.

Suddenly, a grateful smile tugged at Princey's lips, his façade of composure barely holding together. "I see, thank you for letting me know." His voice betraying none of the anguish that clawed at his heart.

As he stood by his yard, the world seemed different somehow. The sun still shone brightly, casting its warm glow over the familiar surroundings. The birds chirped a beautiful melody from somewhere in the tree with the swing he had built for his family.

How could everything appear so normal when his world had shattered into a million irreparable pieces?

He quickly turned around, his steps growing heavier. Turning away from the sympathetic gaze, Princey retreated further into the sanctuary of his home. The once welcoming abode now felt cold and desolate, echoing the hollowness that had consumed him. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the world, yet unable to escape the relentless grip of reality.

Denial settled within Princey like a familiar companion, wrapping him in its deceptive embrace. He couldn't bring himself to accept the reality of August's absence. It felt impossible, inconceivable.

August was his little brother, his baby bird, his sunshine, his fledgling.

They were supposed to be together, sticking by each other's side like they always had ever since they were kids. This couldn't be the end. It just couldn't.

August was actually dead, it had turned out. The bird hybrid didn't want to believe it, but the enderian hybrid hadn’t come around yet, hadn’t left his basement, hadn’t come banging on Princey's trapdoor in the middle of the night demanding entertainment and clinging to him.

Days turned into weeks, and Princey found solace in the numbness that denial provided. He busied himself with trivial tasks, the mundane routines of his daily life. He collected more resources, ventured out almost daily to the most daunting places to get the things he didn't truly need, and came back to hand out his findings to his family members.

But behind his facade of composure, a storm brewed, threatening to engulf him in its relentless fury.

He avoided the spaces they once shared, the memories too painful to confront. The swing in the tree stood abandoned, a haunting reminder of their laughter and carefree moments. Princey couldn't bear to look at it, the weight of guilt and regret crushing his spirit.

The nights were the worst. Alone in his bed, Princey's mind would wander to memories of August. He would recall their adventures, their secret jokes, and their dreams for the future. The tears that had been held back during the day would spill forth, silently staining his pillow as he clutched onto the fragments of a life that was no more.

But even in his grief, Princey couldn't escape the tendrils of guilt that wound their way around his shattered heart. The last time the brothers ever truly had a conversation was before his son's wedding. They had shared a heartfelt moment, the younger confessing to him about the fear of going to sleep due to the transportation to another place, and the older promising to protect him.

And then he blew everything up. He doesn't remember what happened. He just remembers staring into August's eyes with a chuckle as he plays the music, before noticing a look of fear, panic and betrayal on his face as he flew back with Clover and Sap.

Ever since that day, their relationship had been strained. They couldn't look each other in the eyes, and often they'd find themselves in awkward silenced whenever they encountered one another, which led to the two eventually just avoiding seeing each other altogether to avoid the obvious need for communication about what had happened.

Princey had planned to apologize, to sit down and have a proper talk with him. He had everything prepared, planned everything out perfectly to ensure he was ready for every possible outcome.

Nothing would've prepared him for the death of his younger brother.

He questioned himself now endlessly, tormented by 'what ifs' and 'what could have beens". Had he done enough? Could he have protected August? The weight of responsibility bore down on him, threatening to break him completely.

As the weeks turned into a month, the denial slowly began to crack. Reality seeped through the fissures, piercing Princey's fragile armor. He couldn't deny the truth any longer.

His sunshine was gone, and no amount of denial could change that.

And so, one lonely evening, Princey found himself standing in the home they had shared. The walls whispered their shared memories, the shelves lined with tokens of their bond. He reached out to touch a photograph, his trembling fingers tracing the contours of August's smiling face.

A wave of sorrow crashed over Princey, his denial crumbling like sand through his fingertips. The dam he had erected to hold back his grief burst open, and he broke. His cries echoed through the empty room, his anguish reverberating off the walls. He wept for the loss, for the void that could never be filled, apologies falling from his lips in a desperate flow of heartbreak.

"I'm sorry..

I'm sorry..

I'm sorry sunshine, please,

please come back,

I'm sorry.."

In that moment, Princey allowed himself to feel the depth of his love and the weight of his loss. The denial had served its purpose, shielding him momentarily from the unbearable pain. But now, as the truth consumed him, he surrendered to the devastation, knowing that only through acceptance could he begin to heal.

And so, Princey wept, his tears mingling with the memories that lingered in every corner of his home. The world outside continued to move forward, oblivious to the torment that consumed Princey's soul. Time marched on, but for him, it stood still, frozen in the moment of August's departure.

Princey's grief became a silent companion, never leaving his side. The weight of guilt pressed upon him like a boulder, eroding his spirit with each passing day. He tormented himself with relentless questions, replaying every interaction, every word spoken, searching for the signs he had missed. If only he had been more attentive, more present, more upfront, braver, perhaps he could have protected August from the cruel hands of fate.

The once vibrant halls of his home echoed with emptiness. The swing in the tree hung still, a poignant reminder of the laughter that would never grace its seat again. Princey's footsteps grew heavier, each one a reminder of the absence that haunted him. Every corner held memories that simultaneously brought comfort and anguish, amplifying the ache in his heart.

Alone in his home, Princey retreated into the depths of his pain. The world outside continued to move, but his world had shattered into a million fragmented pieces. Friends and loved ones offered their condolences, their well-intentioned words falling on ears that heard but couldn't truly listen.

How could they understand the magnitude of his loss, the guilt that gnawed at his conscience?

In the solitude of his grief, Princey allowed himself to remember. He delved into the treasure trove of memories he had shared with August. The playful moments, the dreams they had woven together, the unconditional brotherly love that had bound them. Each memory felt like a bittersweet embrace, offering solace and breaking his heart all at once.

The realization of August's absence settled into Princey's bones like an icy chill. The denial that had provided fleeting respite now betrayed him, exposing him to the full force of his grief. It was in this vulnerable state, in the depths of his anguish, that Princey understood the fragility of life, the transient nature of joy. He yearned for one more chance, one more moment to hold August close, to flick his forehead every time it poked him, to grin widely with warmth at the exasperation of his younger brother towards his jokes, to sing him to sleep with his guitar, to tell him how deeply he was loved.

And so, Princey sat amidst the remnants of their shared life, the remnants of his shattered heart. With each passing day, the cracks in his façade grew wider, the weight of his grief threatening to consume him. He clung to the fragments of hope, seeking solace in the memories that remained.

#cosmp #cozysmp #i finally wrote it #angst #hurt no comfort #sad i know #im heartbroken #im actually in tears #hope ur ok #heartbreak #grief/mourning

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monako-jinn-stories · 2 years

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Echo X Fem!Reader FanFic

A Returning Echo ~ After the Citadel

Main Master List

Story Master List

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty One

Numbness. Emptiness. Sadness. Grief. Pain. Anger. Regret. And a million more emotions and feelings. You can’t help having them, it’s only natural. Everyone else in the galaxy is allowed to feel them, to let them affect you. Everyone except the Jedi, which you are a part of. It isn’t that you can’t feel them, but that you can’t let them get a hold of you, you can’t let them control your actions. Something that, surprisingly, you’ve found easier than you thought you would.

It isn’t that you’re able to ignore how you feel, it’s that you can’t process it. You won’t let yourself accept that you’re feeling them, because you know it will break you. You know it will be unbearable, and not even the comfort of those closest to you could help dull the pain you’d feel. You can’t accept that he’s really gone, because if you do, that would mean he’s not your returning echo.

Now, it’s been two standard weeks since the Citadel mission, two standard weeks since Echo hadn’t returned. Two standard weeks of forcing yourself out of bed and to do your duties. The Council has kept you here on Coruscant, wanting you to get some sort of grasp on your emotions before letting you back out into battle, and it’s driving you insane. Being here, seeing everything that reminded you of him, hurts. You want out and you want away.

As you make your way to your kitchen, your holotransceiver starts going off, and so you answer it as you begin to prepare your breakfast.

“Goodmorning, Master Jinn,” Mace says as you answer, “the Council would like you to come speak with us in a little while. Would you be able to do so?”

“Well I don’t really have anything else to do,” you reply, and he nods.

“I wasn’t sure if you possibly had some royal matters to attend to. Can we expect you by 1000 hours?” You glance at a nearby chronometer, checking the current time before responding.

“Yeah,” you say, “I should be ready by then. Can I ask you what this meeting will be about?”

“Something for you to do,” he replies, a certain smile coming to his lips. “Don’t worry, I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Will it get me off of this planet?”

“Yes, it will.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a little bit then,” you say, and you turn to refocus on your cooking, but hear Mace clear his throat. You look at him, raising an eyebrow as his expression changes.

“Y/n,” he starts, his tone more sincere now, “how are you doing?”

“I’m fi-”

“Don’t lie to me, y/n. I was good friends with your father, you share many of the same tells as him.” You look at him for a moment, thinking over whether or not you want to open up to him. You sigh, turning to plate your food before sitting.

“There’s just…a lot that isn’t happening anymore. We…we had plans. Hopes. There’s things he didn’t know.”

“Have you told others?”

“Yeah, but…it isn’t the same. They’re not the ones who deserve to know. This…I should have told him before he left.”

“Why didn’t you?” Mace asks, and you let out a small huff.

“I knew going to the Citadel was dangerous. In my mind, I convinced myself that if I kept it from him, if I told him he had to come back to know, that he’d survive. He’d be safe.” Hearing yourself admit this, you know it sounds stupid. You know it was stupid of you to hope, to keep it from him. But you’d been desperate, and now you’re paying the price.

“I can’t blame you for hoping, but I want you to do something for me,” he says, and you nod, meeting his gaze. “Forgive yourself. You did what you needed to help quell some of the worry. You gave him something to look forward to, something to help him through any struggles he may have faced. You gave him another thing to be excited for when he returned. You couldn’t have truly known he wouldn’t make it. Forgive yourself, y/n.” When he finishes, silent tears are streaming down your cheeks. Your heart hurts again, and you feel like you’re about to shatter. But you nod, and you listen to him. You forgive yourself, because you couldn’t have known, not truly. You couldn’t have done anything to change what happened, but you can forgive yourself. Echo wouldn’t want you to carry the blame, and so you won’t.

“There’s something I need to tell the Council as well,” you whisper, a hand disappearing to graze over your stomach. You’re thirty standard weeks pregnant, a little more than halfway, and there’s no way you’ll be able to hide it forever. Plo and Codo already know, so you might as well tell the rest of the Council.

“Alright, I’ll let you get ready then. I’ll see you at 1000 hours.”

“Okay,” you say, and the holocall ends. You let your back hit your chair, feeling part of the weight hanging over you lifting off. Once you tell the Council, you hope much of the rest will be lifted as well.

After settling your mind for a few minutes, you get up and prepare for the day. You try and think of how you’re going to tell them, and try to prepare for their reactions. You know a few of the Masters won’t react well, and some of them will be indifferent. You can’t think of anyone who might have a good reaction, and so you ready yourself to stand strong.

The sound of your door opening catches your attention, and you smile as you see Fives walk in. He’s carrying two little boxes, like he has been doing for the past week, and your smile grows even more.

“Goodmorning,” he says, setting the boxes on your table, “is now a bad time?”

“Yeah, I have to go speak with the Council. Mace said they have a job for me, I’m hoping it’s a mission or battle.”

“Should you really be going into battle right now?” he asks, worry covering his features. “I don’t want to lose even more.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “The boys of the 17th would never let anything happen to me, and especially not now.”

“Sans is insane if he thinks he’s going to be the favorite uncle,” Fives mutters, and you give a small giggle.

“You’re right. My little baby is going to love Hex the most.”

“Haha,” Fives says dryly before flashing you a grin. “I think it’s going to be someone in the 501st.”

“Rex? Kix? Oh! Hardcase!”

“I don’t know who ever told you that you were funny, but they were lying,” he says.

“Oh shush, you know I’m joking,” you say, nudging his side and earning a chuckle from him.

“Do you want me to wait here with the donuts?”

“Yes, I’ll need the comfort after this meeting.”

“Wait, I thought you said they were giving you a job? Why would you need comfort?”

“I’m going to tell them,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’m not going to spend my energy trying to hide this. I’ve got enough things to worry about as it is. Keeping a secret like this doesn’t need to be another.”

“What if they don’t react well?” he asks, and you just shrug.

“They won’t, we already know that. But it’s just something we have to accept.”

“Well, I’ll be here. Just…” he starts, but trails off. You give him a small smile, nodding, understanding what he means without the proper words to say it.

“Don’t eat without me,” you say, and he grins again.

“No promises,” he calls as you head out your door. You just shake your head before heading down to the hall, entering the elevator, and letting yourself be taken up to the Council chambers.

As you step in, the talking quiets, and all eyes are on you. They’re not subtle with how they observe you, as if they’re studying every little movement you make. It’s uncomfortable, more so than normal, and you pull at the side of your Jedi robe, partially covering yourself.

“Master Jinn, thank you for coming,” Mace says, and you nod to him. “We believe that it is time to allow you back on the battlefield. As one of our strongest and most reliable generals, your skills are important to utilize as the war progresses.”

“Some of us do still have concerns regarding your grief,” Obi Wan states. “We ask that you do all you can to refrain from allowing your emotions to overwhelm you.”

“I will, Master Kenobi,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Sure, he’d been able to control his emotions when he lost his master, your father, but you aren’t the same as him. You and Obi Wan are far from similar, and you feel as though sometimes he forgets this in how he treats you, and with what he expects from you.

“You and your battalion may prepare to leave tomorrow morning at 0600 hours. Captain Hex will have more details when you see him.”

“Thank you, Master Windu,” you say.

“You mentioned that you wanted to tell the Council something?” he questions, and you nod, taking a breath. You do your best to calm your sudden nerves, pushing down your fears and just letting the words come out.

“I’m pregnant,” you state simply, and you watch as the Jedi react. Kenobi brings his hand to rest on his chin, Luminara sits up straighter in her seat and fights back a glare, Mace gives you a surprised look, and the others have more varying reactions. Silence follows your confession, and it’s Mace who breaks it.

“How long have you been aware of this?”

“Two standard weeks,” you admit, and instantly realization flashes in his eyes. He nods, sympathy in his gaze. This is what you hadn’t told Echo, and he understands what you had meant.

“This certainly complicates things,” Obi Wan says. “Are you fit to fight?”

“I feel fine,” you say. “Maybe a tiny bit more tired, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“How long are we expecting to allow her to fight like this?” Luminara cuts in. “I don’t think we should allow her at all. The risk is too great.”

“Y/n is a very capable Jedi, and her battalion will protect her if they fear any danger might befall her. You have told them, correct?” Plo asks, and you nod. “She will be fine and in good care. I believe that we should allow her to continue fighting for as long as she wants.”

“I agree with Master Unduli. Having her out there is too much of a risk,” Obi Wan says.

“Do we want to go through another long period of the 17th being held here?” Mace argues. “We know how they got the last time, and they won’t follow another general in battle. Letting her continue fighting for as long as she wishes is the best option.” As they continue to argue, you stand in the middle of the room, not focusing on them, but on your baby. They bring you calm when you reach out, assuring you that there will be peace someday, and that you have a future waiting for you. They drown out the troubles of the galaxy as their force signature grows, and you feel as though this baby will be what keeps you from falling into the grasp of your grief.

“Y/n,” a voice says, pulling you from your mind. A gentle hand is resting on your shoulder when you refocus on your surroundings. The Council is looking at you, and Codo is standing at your side. He smiles at you, and you smile back before looking at Yoda.

“Reached an agreement, we have,” he says. “Allow you to fight, we will. But further along you get, more dangerous things will be, hmm? Monitor you, we will. Taken out of battle when you must be, you will be. Do you accept this?”

“Yes,” you say. “I’ll allow myself to be removed from the battle when it is agreed to be necessary.”

“Then go on your mission tomorrow, you will.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” you reply with a bow, looking at the others briefly before leaving the room. Once you’re gone, Obi Wan starts to further argue.

“Are we really letting an expecting mother out onto the battlefield?” he asks, bewilderment lacing his tone.

“If she wishes to fight, then we will not hold her back,” Plo responds.

“Y/n is a smart woman, she knows herself better than we do. If she believes she can handle it, then we should let her try,” Mace adds.

“This decision feels unwise. Too much stress can be harmful to both mother and child. A battlefield is a brewing ground for stress,” Luminara states.

“Change her mind, we cannot. Made a decision, I have. Accept it, you must.” Obi Wan and Luminara exchange a glance with each other before nodding to Yoda. With the matter settled, the Council moved on to a different discussion.

“How’d it go?” Fives asks when you walk back in, watching as you immediately head to the table where the donuts are. He gets up from the couch and follows you, sitting across from you as you let out a sigh.

“Fine,” you say, taking a bite.

“Fine? Just fine?”

“Well, it wasn’t really bad,” you say. “It wasn’t great though.”

“Are you still allowed to lead your battalion?”

“Yeah, but they want to keep an eye on me, make sure I don’t start being a risk.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you or your baby as well,” he says, relaxing a bit further in his seat. “You’re all I have left of him. Well, I mean, I have my other brothers, but…”

“It’s not the same?” you say, and he nods.

“Plus, your baby will be half him. I’m hoping they end up with a bit of his personality. Maybe they’ll like to repeat orders or read manuals.”

“Maybe,” you say, “but however they turn out, they’ll be perfect.”

“That I can agree with,” he says with a grin. “Can we do the thing?”

“What thing?” you ask, a smirk coming to your lips.

“You know what thing,” he says, standing and pulling you to sit on the couch. He sits next to you and places his hands on the sides of your small bump. You let out an amused huff before reaching out and resting your fingers on the sides of his temples. A small grin spreads over his lips before you close your eyes and allow the connection to your baby to flow to him. As always, a small gasp leaves him as he begins to feel their force signature.

“They’re so much stronger than the other day,” he mumbles. “I can feel them growing.”

“I know, it’s amazing,” you reply. “Just imagine what it’ll be like when you and Shaak decide to have babies.”

“I can’t wait for my own,” he says. “But I think we’ll do our best to wait until after the war.”

“Hey, this wasn’t exactly planned,” you defend.

“I know, and I’m sure you were careful,” he says, and you just roll your eyes, knowing that he knew you weren’t. “But either way, I’m glad you’re having this baby. I’m glad you’ll still have a little bit of Echo with you.”

“Me too,” you say, and you let your hands fall away from his temples. He sits back, eyes studying you closely.

“Please, be very careful when you go out into battle. I don’t want anything to happen to either you or the baby, but especially not you. I…I think I’d be lost without you.”

“And I’d be lost without you, Fives,” you say, gently reaching out to hold his cheek briefly. He leans into it before his comm starts to beep, and he sighs before answering it.

“Hey Fives, I hope you’re not busy, but we are getting ready to head out soon and I haven’t seen you. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, General Skywalker. I just came to visit y/n before we left.”

“Ah, well, I’d suggest you say your goodbyes and come meet us at the hangar.”

“Be there in a few,” Fives replies before the comm goes silent.

“Now it’s my turn to tell you to be safe,” you laugh, and Fives chuckles along with you.

“Don’t worry, I will be,” he says. “As long as Skywalker isn’t near me, that is.”

“If you even get so much as a scratch because of him, he’s dead,” you say sternly, causing Fives to laugh again.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” he says, standing and heading to your door. You walk with him, smiling when he turns around.

“Goodbye, vod’ika-in-law,” he says before kneeling and grinning at your stomach. “Goodbye, Echo’ad.” You walk out into the hall with him and watch as he heads to the elevator. Once inside, he turns and waves goodbye to you before the doors close. You let out a sigh, silently praying to the Maker to keep him safe and return him to his loved ones safely.

“I’m proud of you, my ad’ika,” Codo says, and you turn to see him approaching. “Telling the Council was a very brave thing to do.”

“I just knew it would be easier than trying to hide it,” you say with a shrug. “I didn’t want to tell them, but it was better than them finding out and being even more upset with me.”

“They’re not upset,” he assures you, “they’re just worried, and rightfully so. As one of our leading generals, you are surrounded by lots of danger. We cannot promise your safety, and that means we cannot promise your baby’s safety.”

“Nor can you promise the safety of the men in the 17th, or any of the troopers in tha GAR. They should be just as valuable to the Council as my baby and I are.”

“And they are-”

“Then why don’t they act like it?” you say, throwing your hands out in front of you. “Why aren’t they keeping watch on all the injured clones, the ones who need to be kept out of battle? Why don’t they make sure that they’re safe and alright? It’s just not fair that we get treated so much better.”

“I know, y/n,” Codo says, “and if we could have it our way, the clones would be treated as equals. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks this way, and therefore it’s hard to have the necessary resources and abilities to do so.”

“Well hopefully Ahni, Bail, and Padme can do something about that in the Senate,” you mumble. “I’m tired of being treated like I’m something more than them, because I’m not. We’re all living beings, that’s where it should end when determining how we’re treated.”

“The galaxy would be a much better place if others shared this sentiment, and I’d like to believe we wouldn’t be at war.”

“I just hope that when the war is over, the galaxy will be a better place for my baby to grow,” you sigh.

“As long as you’re their loving mother, they’ll be just fine,” he says, resting a hand on your shoulder. You shift then, moving to wrap your arms around him. It’s been a while since you’ve hugged him, and the warm feeling spreads through you as he returns the gesture, holding you close.

“And they’ll be even better off if their bu’ad is there to help,” you mumble into him. His hold tightens, and he chuckles softly.

“I’ll be there as much as I can for them.” You stand there for a few more minutes, enjoying your time together, before he mumbles something about needing to go somewhere. You smile as you pull back, and just like Fives before him, you watch as he heads down the hall and gets into the elevator. When the doors close, you begin to wonder how you should spend the rest of your day.

As you wonder how you’ll spend your day, you walk around the temple, hoping to get some ideas while you do. You pass by training rooms, sparring rooms, meditating rooms, and others that you don’t pay much mind to. You mindlessly wave to anyone you walk by, but don’t interact further than that.

Soon enough, you end up in the library, and you begin to browse around the books. You’ve read quite a bit of them, but it always seems like there’s one more you haven’t touched. You give Jocasta a pleasant smile as you walk by, and head to a section you know always has the best books.

As you approach, you hear what sounds like someone struggling. When you walk around the corner, you recognize the little youngling who is trying to reach for a high up book.

“Is there a reason you’re not using the force, little one?” you ask, and the Rodian girl turns her head and looks at you with slight shock.

“Master Jinn! I can’t use the force, we’re being trained not to rely on it for everything. I was trying to grab it myself.”

“Did you ask anyone for help?”

“No, we’re supposed to be doing things ourselves,” she explains.

“Well, in times when you need it, you’re allowed to ask for help,” you say. “Asking for help is something no one should be ashamed of or scared to do.”

“Can you help me then?” she asks, and you smile and nod.

“Which book would you like?”

“That one, with the gold letters on it.” You quickly find the one she’s referring to and pull it down. You hand it to her, and she grins widely at you.

“Thank you, Master Jinn,” she says before she gives you a questioning look. “Will you ever be teaching or training us again?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit, “I don’t exactly have plans to, but maybe in the future.”

“We all really enjoyed it, you’re one of the more fun Masters. Some of the other ones don’t want us to have as much fun.”

“Well, they’re just big bores then, aren’t they?” you laugh, and she giggles as well.

“Yes. Very big bores.”

“Just make sure you don’t let them catch you saying that, you don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, Master Jinn! My lips are sealed!” You giggle with her again before she says her goodbyes and runs off. You smile as you grab a book for yourself, heading over to a table to read.

As you try to read, you find yourself unable to focus. Your mind doesn’t latch onto the words, and you find yourself rereading paragraphs as you just stare at the sentences. You hate not being able to find something to do, and so when you give up and return the book to its spot, you let out a quiet groan of annoyance.

“Troubles, y/n?” a familiar playful voice asks, and you feel yourself get spun around by the man. He chuckles as he catches you, and you look up at the Nautolan with a raised brow.

“Yes, I can’t find anything to do while I wait to head out tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you could help me, then,” he suggests and you raise your brow again. “I want to work on some of my combat forms, and I need a partner to do so. Plo is busy, so I came to find someone who might not mind helping.”

“So you choose to beat up the pregnant lady?” you jokingly ask, and he shakes his head as he laughs.

“That’s hardly the reason I chose you, I just wanted to help you with your boredom, and in turn, you can help me with my training.”

“Hmm, I suppose I’ll accept your offer,” you say, smirking at him as his grin widens.

“Perfect! Follow me, my lady,” he says, bowing before holding out his hand to guide you along. You roll your eyes, smiling at his playfulness. No matter what, Kit always found a way to make anyone smile and laugh. Whenever you see him with Plo, you can’t help but imagine your father at their side as well. You’ve heard a few stories about how they’d all been close, and you wish you could have seen them all together.

“Thinking again, young Jinn?” he asks, and you break out of your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you reply. “I just wish I could have known my father more. I know you, him, and Plo were all close, and I just wish I could have seen you together.”

“Well, I may have a security recording from when we were younger of us sneaking into the temple’s restricted rooms, and then being chased out by Jocasta,” he chuckles. “I can let you watch it sometime.”

“Oh you already know I would love that,” you laugh. Soon, you reach the training room Kit wants to use, and you set your Jedi robe on the ground before pulling your lightsaber from its clip.

“So, what exactly are you wanting me to do? Just attack you however I feel, or is there a specific way?”

“I want you to do whatever’s natural. You have a unique style that I don’t have much experience against. I’m curious to know how well I can defend myself against you, and if I can get the upper hand.”

“Alright,” you say, igniting your lightsaber and stepping back into a stance, “game on, then.” Kit smiles at you, stepping into his own stance and igniting his saber. You study him for a second, analyzing his stance. Your grip is backwards on your hilt, with your thumb resting near the end and the blade held out in front of you.

You slip your hand around as you lunge forward, shifting so that your grip is normal, and you swing along Kit’s front. He quickly blocks, attempting to swing back around, but you swiftly counter and hit your blade against his. The room fills with the sound of electric clashing as you repeatedly swing at him, and he starts to back into the corner. You see him trying to figure out your technique, and when he gives you a grin, you know he’s caught on.

“Better watch out,” he says before he dodges your swing and lunges forward. You have to quickly jump away to avoid his saber, and you barely get yours up to stop him from swinging down on you.

“Not too bad,” you say, and he tilts his head in question before his eyes widen and he stumbles back. You spin around and jump into the air, flying over him before landing behind. He doesn’t get a chance to turn around before you’re sweeping his legs out from under him and throwing him to the ground. When he rolls over, your lightsaber is pointed at his throat.

“Really, I thought you’d be better than that,” you say, and he chuckles from his spot on the ground before he pushes his legs up into the air and kicks your lightsaber from your hand. He then jumps up and force throws you backwards. Your back hits the wall and you fall to your knees, the air having been knocked from you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “I didn’t mean to throw you that hard.” You don’t respond with words, instead you let a slow laugh slip from your lips as you stand up. The look you give him is all the confirmation he needs to know you’re okay, and he’s raising his lightsaber up to block as you call yours back to your hand and swing at him.

The two of you move in circles around the room, each of you trying to get around the other to a vulnerable position. Your lightsabers continue to clash, and sometimes they whir as you spin around and swing them with you. The time begins to slip away, and you feel yourselves getting lost in the fight.

After a while, as you’re starting to grow tired, you spot a weakness in Kit’s fighting. You keep yourself from smirking, not wanting to give yourself away. Instead, you begin to work against it. You start swinging your saber more at the area that he tends to leave undefended, and you nearly strike him as he rushes to block. You swing again, this time aiming towards his opposite side. He blocks again, but just barely.

You finally let your smirk grow as you begin to quickly aim for unguarded areas. Kit struggles to keep up, and you once again start to push him backwards. You take a moment to aim at his legs, causing him to fall back onto one knee. As he’s in this position, you take the opportunity to rain strikes down on him. He falls back at the amount of strength you’re using, catching himself on one hand. When you knock his lightsaber from his grip, he raises his arms to shield himself. You swing down once more, but stop mere inches from his head.

Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly as you catch your breaths. When Kit finally looks at you after lowering his arm, he sees the slight grin on your face. His own grin slowly grows, and he starts to laugh as you slip your lightsaber back into its clip and offer him a hand up.

“Well, you certainly don’t fight much like your father,” he says. “I think you might have even been able to best him if you were given the chance.”

“Then I’d be able to beat both my fathers in combat,” you laugh. “Codo doesn’t stand a chance against me, either.”

“I’m surprised, considering he trained you.”

“Actually, he let me figure out what fit best for me. Yes, I did train with him, but I also never really kept to one style. He sometimes had a hard time keeping up with changes I would make.”

“I had a hard time myself,” Kit chuckles. “Thank you for helping me today, y/n. Although you may have bested me, you gave me experience I needed to know what I could possibly need to defend myself against. Not that I think anyone fights quite like you,” he says, giving you a wink.

“And no one charms quite like you,” you respond. He merely chuckles again as he grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips and planting a kiss on it.

“Unfortunately, I must be going, my dear. But please, take care of yourself. I will always be a friend for you if you need one.”

“Thank you, Kit,” you say, smiling as he walks out of the room with you before heading in his own direction. You check the time then, and notice it’s getting late. You decide to head over to the barracks, wanting to eat dinner with the boys.

When you arrive, the troopers of the 17th immediately swarm you with joy and cheers. They drag you off to the mess hall and fight over who gets to sit next to you. As always, though, Sans, Hex, Steele, Aid, and Tie are around you.

“How’s our lovely baby mama doing?” Sans asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

“The same as always,” you reply. “I’m still…well, you know.”

“Yes, we do,” Hex says. “And unfortunately, the pain doesn’t really ever go away. You learn to live with it, though, and accept it.”

“Wow, way to help her,” Steele says, nudging his brother in the side.

“What? It’s true. We all know it, especially when we lost Bomber. None of us have gotten over that grief, but we’ve learned to live with it.”

“He’s right,” Tie says, and you turn to look at him. “Especially me. I was the closest to him, and no matter what, I’ll always feel lost without him. But I’ve learned to live with that pain, and push past it to be who I need to be for my other brothers.”

“I wish we could tell you it goes away, that you won’t feel it all the time, but we can’t lie to you, y/n,” Aid adds. “We can only be here to help you when you need us.”

“I’ll always need you,” you assure them. “And I’ll always love you. You boys are everything to me, you and the rest of the 17th. And I know you’re going to be the best uncles to my little baby as well.”

“Better not let Fives catch you saying that,” Steele laughs, “he’ll start trying to fight us all for the title of number one uncle. He wouldn’t win it, though, cause we all know I’m going to be the favorite.”

“Oh, please,” Hex says with a snort. “You may be second favorite, but not first favorite.”

“What, you think you’ll be the favorite?”

“Uh, yeah? I’m obviously going to be the best with them.”

“No you’re not,” Aid counters. “You don’t even know anything about babies.”

“Neither do any of you,” Hex says defensively. “Besides, it’s not like the favorite would be Tie.”

“Hey! What’s so wrong with me being the favorite?” he asks.

“Nothing, but it just isn’t likely,” Sans speaks up.

“You weren’t even in the conversation!”

“Yeah, but I’m right. Anyways, you all are making fools of yourselves. We all know it’s obviously going to be me.”

“That’s bantha shit!” Aid yells.

“You?” Hex huffs, rolling his eyes.

“As if,” Steele agrees.

“Well, none of you are any better,” Sans counters. “At least I’m the best looking.”

“Oh, you think you’re the best looking?” Steele snorts.

“At least I don’t have the same haircut as Cody,” Sans shoots back, and both Hex and Steele glare at him.

“At least we don’t have whatever that is on your head.”

“This is called style. It’s a shame you can’t recognize it.”

“Oh, we know style alright. That’s why we have these haircuts, because they’re in style,” Hex states.

“Yeah, it’s called the ‘Cody cut’,” Aid says with a snicker. Hex turns and gives him a threatening look, but it breaks when a spoonful of food is flung on him. You look at Sans who is snickering, and feel Hex’s anger growing beside you.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asks, his voice low and threatening.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it, Hexy boy?” Sans taunts, and you duck as Hex grabs a spoonful of his food and throws it at Sans. You sigh, shaking your head as you slip out of your seat. The room erupts into chaos, and you watch from the side as a food fight breaks out. You look around, face palming as you see everyone else join in. You really can’t control these men, not that you’d ever want to. But sometimes, you think, maybe they need a bit of restraint from their shenanigans.

When the food fight ends, you walk back to the bunks with everyone. Those who need to shower do, and the others cram into a room with you. You laugh as you watch them, fighting over who gets to be near you. Sans quickly has you in his arms, though, refusing to give you up.

As you fall asleep, your mind wanders back to the promises you and Echo had made to each other. The promises to always love one another, to always be there, to always come back to the other. Your heart hurts at the last thought, knowing that he had unwillingly broken his promise. And he couldn’t even come back to you after he died, you didn’t have any part of him to say goodbye to, nothing to bury or burn. All you have are memories of him, and the baby that’s growing. You can only hope this baby will somehow, despite not knowing him, turn out to be just as amazing as their father.

If you enjoyed this, comments, reblogs, and messages are greatly appreciated!

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hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay?

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better.

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would.

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain.

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor.

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body.

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels.

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed.

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys.

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid.

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

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sub-hoshi-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

I finally finished it!! It only took a million years but it is done so pls enjoy it cause I worked really hard on it :,)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!myungjun, gn!dom!reader, anal (could be pegging but it's gender neutral so it can be whatever you want), degradation, choking (it only happens once for a split second), spanking, dacryphilia, blindfold, bondage, edging, bulging, master kink, use of a vibrator

Looks Are Deceiving

You truly did love your boyfriend with all your heart, and on any other day you would say he was a sweet angel that could do no wrong. Today, however, was not one of those days. You thought it would be fun to take Myungjun with you to a nice restaurant that had recently opened a little ways away but when he started to give you those eyes from across the table, you knew this night would go a little differently than planned.

"But master~ You look so good tonight, how am I supposed to not think of you like that?" Your boyfriend said with a pout. He even tried to change your mind with a flash of his infamous puppy dog eyes you could never seem to say no to. While you wanted nothing more than to jump on him and give him everything he wanted, you also didn't want to be banned from the fancy restaurant you were currently sitting in. You let out a small sigh of irritation after swallowing the fork full of food you had shoved into your mouth.

"Baby, I would love to take care of you right now but it isn't the right setting! So finish up eating and we'll get home, but if I hear you ask for it or complain one more time I won't touch you at all." Time seemed to freeze for Myungjun as soon as the words had left your mouth. He couldn't stop his jaw from dropping open slightly as he stared at you. Not touch him? Not touch him at all? You had to be joking. But as he kept watching you peacefully eat your meal he realized you were being dead serious. Your boyfriend let out an agitated huff as he picked at his food, only eating it with a roll of his eyes when you would send a glare his way.

To be honest you had never really realized how often you would give into Myungjun until now. You hadn't really ever had a reason to tell him no, and how could you when he would ask with those big puppy dog eyes staring up at you? How could you have possibly known that would make him such a spoiled little brat? Never in a million years would you have thought that you would need to punish him for something since he had never seemed to break any of the rules you had set. Once you got in the car to drive home, however, you realized that he was a lot brattier than you had ever known.

Almost as soon as you had gotten in the car he was begging for your touch again, reaching for your hand to play with your fingers as he told you all the things he wanted you to do to him. After he still wasn't able to get a reaction out of you, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

"Fine then! If you're not gonna touch me I'll just do it myself!" You weren't able to fully comprehend his words before hearing the zipper of his pants as he whipped his pretty little dick out, giving an over dramatic moan as the cold air hit his heated skin. As fate would have it the light ahead of you was red, giving you the opportunity to turn to your boyfriend and rip his hand away from himself. Before another complaint could leave his mouth you gripped his chin with your other hand, digging your nails in his cheeks and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He gulped at the anger in your eyes. "You think just because you're cute I'll give you whatever you want? Huh? You think that this-" you growled while shaking his hand that had previously been on his cock, "is the proper way to get my attention?!"

"I- I'm sorry mas-"

"No! You wanted my attention, didn't you? Well now, you're gonna get it! But trust me sweetheart, this is not going to go how you think it will. Now fix yourself, I don't wanna see that thing until we get home, got it?"

"Y-yes master." He stuttered, squeezing his thighs together in the hopes you wouldn't notice how his dick twitched when you raised your voice.

—

Myungjun's breath hitched in his throat when he heard the front door slam closed as you entered the house. He had been eagerly awaiting this moment, his mind creating many fantasies for him to feed into his desire the rest of the car ride home. You had given him the simple command of "Bedroom, now." and he did not need to be told twice. He was obediently sitting on the mattress once you got there, fully nude with white knuckles from how hard he was gripping his thighs.

"Alright sweetheart," you said, calmly walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, "we're gonna start off a little easy for you." He tilted his head as you pat your thighs, looking over at him expectantly. It finally clicked and he let out an over dramatic whine.

"But master-" The harsh glare you sent his way was enough to shut him up, making him gulp before slowly draping himself over your thighs. You gave a small smile at the action, though it didn't reach your eyes.

"Good boy! Now I want you to count loud and clear for every spank, alright?" He hastily nodded his head, his fingers digging into the fabric of the rug beneath him and bracing for impact. You tutted at him with disappointment, making him quickly mutter a quiet 'Yes master' to give you verbal confirmation that he understood.

The few quiet seconds that passed after that were almost unbearable. All Myungjun's senses were on edge, waiting for the moment he would feel the pleasant burn on his skin from where you'd hit him. When you finally landed the first blow of many, your boyfriend's jaw dropped open with a small gasp. It took him a few seconds but he finally stuttered out "O-one!" You made sure the second blow was even harder than the first, making his body lurch forward from the impact. "Two!"

It continued like this for the next 12 spanks. You alternated between cheeks, sometimes even giving a harsh slap right where his thighs met his ass. He was panting and shaking on your legs and you were sure if you had looked there would be unshed tears glistening in his eyes. A part of you was worried you were being a little too rough with him but after landing the final hit you could feel a small spurt of pre-cum staining the dress pants you had worn.

"F-fifteen!" The number sounded pitiful as it fell from his lips, high-pitched and breathy as he started squirming around to subtly grind his cock into the side of your thigh. That dream was short lived, however, as you grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him up to sit next to you on the mattress. Your glare had him shivering as he struggled to keep eye contact with you. If you had noticed his pathetic attempt to get off, you didn't say anything. You simply pushed him back a little bit by his hair as you stood from the bed.

"Back against the headboard." Myungjun didn't dare question your authority, immediately pushing back on his feet until he could feel the cool surface of the headboard against his back. While he was doing that, you walked over to the closet, digging around for a little bit before returning with your box of toys. You let him watch you with curious eyes as you pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a black, satin ribbon. Pushing him slightly down by his shoulders so his back was somewhat rested against the pillows, you clicked the cuffs in place around his wrist and secured them to the headboard. He tugged at them for a bit to test the sturdiness before you grabbed his jaw and made him face you so you could tie the ribbon carefully around his eyes. He whined at that one, pouting his lips as his vision went black.

"Noooo! Master please, I wanna see your beautiful body as you destroy me!" He gasped as you harshly smacked his thigh.

"You can do that after you've learned how to be a good boy. Only good boys get rewarded baby, you know this." His pout only deepened as he muttered about how unfair all this was. At the sound of you rustling through what he assumed to your toys his mouth snapped shut. There were a few moments of silence until he suddenly felt a cool object being tied against the head of his red and leaking cock. Once you seemed you had it secure, you grabbed the remote and twirled it between your fingers before letting the toy buzz to life.

Your boyfriend's body jolted as he felt the vibrator against the sensitive head of his dick, a waterfall of whimpers falling from his lips as he struggled to get used to the sudden pleasure. After a few minutes of you toying with the settings, his hips jutted up off the bed as he moaned helplessly. Sensing that he was close to his release, you suddenly turned off the toy. Myungjun whined in confusion as he thrusted his hips off the bed in search of friction.

"No! Wha- master! I was so close!" He cried. You rolled your eyes as a sadistic smirk made its way to your lips.

"Awwww, you didn't really think I'd let you cum so soon, did you? I told you baby," you said as you strutted to his side, letting your hands trace patterns around his chest before lightly resting around his throat, "only good boys get rewards." You gave a light squeeze as you finished your sentence, making him gasp and his head spin. He kept whining out complaints until you had decided he had waited long enough and started up the vibrator again. A disappointed whine left him again minutes later when you did the same exact thing again. You did it a couple more times until you could see the tears slipping past the blindfold as he begged for permission to cum.

"Hmmmm, I don't know baby. Have you learned your lesson yet?" You hummed while teasingly running your nails up and down his chest.

"Oh please master! I-I've been such a good- A-AH- good b-boy for you! Please master, h-have mercy!" He whined, sobs tearing from his throat as his hips continuously bounced off the bed, desperate for a friction it wasn't going to get. You hummed, pretending to think about it before shutting off the toy again. He sobbed loudly, words indecipherable as he tried to beg for his release. You quickly untied the vibrator from his tip making him practically sob under your gaze. His cries catch in his throat as he feels the familiar head of your cock rub against his hole.

"Now baby," you growled in his ear as you felt his hot breath coming out in short pants against your neck, "do you think you deserve to be stretched out before I fuck you open?" His lips trembled as you dug your nose into his skin, letting your lips softly follow it's trail.

"N-no master…"

"And why is that, huh?" He shivered as you grinded against him, letting him feel the lube you had coated it in while he was distracted by the vibrator.

"B-because- because I decided t-to be an impatient l-little bitch and touch myself after you told me to wait until we got h-home." He whined, though you noticed how his dick twitched when he called himself a little bitch.

"Good boy! For giving your master such a good answer I'll take this off for you since I know you're just dying to watch me fuck you open, aren't you?" He vigorously nodded his head as he felt your tug lightly at the blindfold around his head.

"Yes yes yes! W-wanna watch you destroy me, w-watch you punish me for being such a bad boy master!" You bit your lip with a growl, wasting no more time before ripping off the black satin cloth and thrusting the entirety of your length into him.

Myungjun's back arched as his head snapped back into the pillows he was laying on. No noise escaped him as his jaw fell open, but after a few seconds a high pitched moan broke through the silence. His nails were digging into his palms as you started to move your hips, quickly picking up speed as the sound of slapping skin filled the room. Tears and drool were dripping down his face while his toes curled at the pleasure ripping through his body. He was trying his best to look up at you but every hit to his prostate (which you managed to find rather quickly) left his eyes rolling back in his skull so he could only watch the ceiling moving back and forth above him as every rough thrust made his body move with the impact. His task only proved harder after you lifted one of his legs over your shoulder, making you hit even deeper inside of him.

Finally, he managed to force his eyes to look at you. The sight of your gaze on him was enough to make him come undone, but he knew better than to do so without your permission. Your eyes were almost black with lust, a sadistic glint in them only proved to make the smirk you sported that much more intimidating. Your cheeks were slightly flushed from the energy you were exerting to make sure he would get to cum as soon as possible while a few loose hairs clung to your forehead from sweat. A shiver shot down his spine when he noticed your smirk growing wider as your gaze traveled lower, stopping at his lower stomach. The knot in his stomach felt like it was one second away from snapping as he looked down to notice the bulge of your cock against his lower stomach. All he could do was moan and cry as he blabbered about wanting to cum.

"Oh master! P-ple- AH- please! Please please please please please! C-cum- I-I- oh god yes- wanna- I- oh please!!" You smirked down at his fucked out form, his eyes returning to rolling back in his head as his thighs shook around you. You hummed with a small smile while kissing up his thigh that was right by your head.

"Go ahead baby, show your master how good they make you feel." The soft and caring tone of your voice strongly contrasted the filthy things you were doing to his body but it only proved to make him hornier as his entire body shuddered and he finally came. White ropes of his release covered his stomach, a little bit even ending up on his neck as you slowed the pace of your hips to ride him through it. You honestly considered making him go again but decided against it as you saw the tired expression that covered his face.

Slowly and carefully you set his leg down on the bed and pulled out of him, watching as he bit his lip with one last whimper. Releasing his wrists from the handcuffs you had put him in, you rubbed a cream over the red marks he had created from tugging at the material so they wouldn't bee too sore in the morning, making sure to rub it over his red bottom as well. You peppered kisses all over his face before muttering that you'd be right back and hurrying to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet washcloth to clean him up with. Once you had also gotten him a small snack and some water from your mini fridge you cleaned him off and laid down next to him, holding him close to your body and leaving light kisses over his skin.

"How're you feeling baby? I know I went a little rougher than you're used to from me." You said with a chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his face. A lazy smile lit up his face as he snuggled closer to you.

"Good. Sooo good." He mumbled against your neck, making you giggle and press a kiss to the top of his head. You felt his breathing start to level out against your neck as he began to drift to sleep. Staring at him like a lovesick fool, you kissed him one last time before following him to dreamland.

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Disarming Your Demons

Notes: Okay, so I’m only halfway through Jujutsu Kaisen, but I had an idea and I had to write it down. I’m not sure if I’m gonna write anything else for it until I actually finish the show, but I said that before and now this exists, so who knows really.

Summary: Itadori discovers a new method to deal with misbehaving curses.

Sharing a body with a thousand-year-old curse could have its downfalls, something Itadori was quickly becoming familiar with. Though he could control it most of the time, it was difficult, and took a strain on his mind and body. He put on a brave face afterwards, insisting that it was no big deal, but the truth was anything but. Sukuna’s ability to switch out with him was growing stronger, and the exhaustion was setting in faster now with each time Itadori wrestled back control over his body. In the heat of battle was one thing, edged on by desperation and the will to keep his friends alive. But it was the other times, when Itadori was tired and vulnerable and fully unprepared to battle his literal inner demons, that he regretted the lifestyle most.

Say, for instance, in his dorm room, half-asleep and dreary from a battle earlier that day.

“Hello again.”

Switching out with Sukuna was strange. He didn’t feel it in a physical sense, no pain or sensation inflicted upon him. One moment he was in his body, and the next he was trapped, a helpless bystander to the other’s will.

“You know, it’s awfully bold of those teachers of yours to leave you all alone like this at night.” Sukuna stood, stretching his arms above his head in satisfaction. “Do they really put so much stock in you to assume you’d be able to fight me, like this?”

“Sukuna.” Itadori’s voice was inaudible to anyone who might be passing by, an aimless thought floating around in his consciousness, but he knew the other could hear him nonetheless. “Give me back my body!”

“Please,” Sukuna dismissed, waving one hand as he strolled around the dorm, examining objects with a vague curiosity. “After you used me earlier? I’m growing rather tired of this dynamic, you know. Only ever summoning me when you need your friend healed, or a new big baddie rears its odious head. Then, afterwards, you hide me away without so much as a thank you.”

“I do appreciate your help,” Itadori started carefully, trying to keep his tone neutral. It was difficult though, when the other could easily read his true thoughts. “But you can’t expect me to simply hand my body over like some kind of puppet. I know what your true intentions are, and I won’t let you harm my friends or anyone else.”

“Oh, of course not, not heroic, selfless Itadori.” He placed a hand on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open with one hand. “I wonder what would happen if I went to pay them a little visit now?”

“No!”

“Oh? Don’t like that, do you. Then why don’t you do something about it? Force me back, take over your body once more.” Sukuna chuckled dryly, pausing in the doorway. “If you can, that is. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the toll this is taking on you. Do you really think you have the strength to best me now, when you’re tired and weak from battle?”

Itadori tried, he really did. He knew he had to do this, but Sukuna was right. In his current state, he could hardly focus enough to remain present enough to speak to the other, let alone reclaim his physical form. With his last remaining willpower, he managed to gather enough strength to take control of one arm before he found himself blocked by the other.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, a throaty, derisive thing that made Itadori clench the fist he had. “One arm? Is that it? You truly are in for it now. I must say, I am impressed though. I didn’t think you had even that in you. Still, it’s no matter. I could end your world as you know it with both my hands tied behind my back. This pathetic defense is but a pebble in my path. I must thank you for the amusing display though—I needed a good laugh.”

Itadori watched helplessly as his body moved forward against his will, his mind racing as he tried to think of anything he could do in his position.

I needed a good laugh.

That was it!

Itadori would have smiled if he could use his mouth. An idea was formulating in his mind, crazy and nonsensical, but possibly just the thing he needed. It was a method that Gojo had employed once, to train him to focus on maintaining curse energy and resist distractions. He had no idea if the same thing would work on Sukuna, but seeing as he was in his body and therefore should be just as susceptible as Itadori had been, it just might work.

Sukuna stopped short as a jolt of sensation shot through him, and he snapped his head down to see his own hand squeezing his hip. “What the hell?”

“Ha! I didn’t think it would actually work!” Itadori’s voice rang out triumphant through the other’s mind as he squeezed again and again, quick and sudden so that Sukuna had no time to adjust to them. “Who knew that my own ticklishness would come in handy one day?”

“Tickli—what?” Sukuna started in confusion, but quickly slapped his other hand to his mouth to hold back… was that laughter?

He stumbled back against the wall, torn between shoving the other’s hands away and holding back the embarrassing noises leaking between his fingers. It was in times like these that he missed his four arms. It was hard enough to work with only two arms—one was impossible.

“W-What are you d-dohoing?” Sukuna grunted, trying to sound intimidating despite the silly grin quickly taking hold of his features.

“Tickling you, duh.” It was weird tickling his own body, and weirder still to have the sensation disconnected from him. He could feel the AC in the hallway on his arm, and the warmth of his hip under his hand, but that was all. It was disconcerting, but Itadori was grateful for it in this moment. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to continue if he could feel everything the other was feeling. He could only imagine how Sukuna was managing to stop himself from collapsing into an Itadori-sized puddle of laughter on the ground. “Haven’t you ever heard of tickling before?”

“I-Is that some k-kind of hihidden Jujutsu?” Sukuna snapped angrily, annoyed at the chuckle that had slipped into his words halfway through.

Laughter rang through his head, unhelpfully as Sukuna tried to hold back his own. “Dude, what? Of course not! Tickling is… well, it’s a human thing you know? When you lightly touch the human body, like this—” he scribbled his fingers up his sides suddenly—“They laugh! I’m not sure why though… science is still a bit iffy on that.”

Sukuna had stopped listening at this point. He had burst into panicked giggles the second Itadori touched his side, unprepared for the other’s change in strategy. Sukuna’s hand come down, wrapping around his wrist and pulling it up, away from his sides.

He drew in an exhausted breath, grinning in relief as he held the other firmly away from him. “There. Your… tickling, or whatever it is, is ineffectual now. Seems like you didn’t think this plan through, did you now?”

He was right. It was a temporary solution, but the truth was that Itadori was going to get nowhere with just one hand. Which was why…

Sukuna’s eyes widened as he felt a sudden pull at his person once more. His body was rebelling, and he fought back, trying to push back at Itadori’s attempt to switch back. He was getting stronger now, and Itadori was still weak, so it should be nothing to keep control from the brat. What he hadn’t expected was for Itadori to focus all his energy on reclaiming a single part of his body, leaving Sukuna unprepared for the concentrated force. He felt his fingers slipping on his wrist, his left arm losing connection just like the first one had.

“No!” Sukuna growled, but it was too late. Both arms were lost to him now, and he knew if Itadori could, he would be smirking.

“Yes,” Itadori countered. Surprisingly enough, he kept his one arm raised. He lowered the other one, poising his fingers under his arms and wiggling them in the air threateningly. “I remember this always being one of my worst spots. Unfortunately for you, I’m afraid.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes in confusion, but before he could say anything he was stopped by the sensation of nails gently spidering under his arm. It was a slow, unhurried process, that never missed its mark. Instinct shot through him like a bullet and Sukuna attempted to bring his arm down protectively. He was stopped by the other’s remaining control of the limb, which kept it raised exposed and vulnerable over his head. It didn’t help that Itadori hadn’t worn a shirt to bed the previous night, so Itadori had full access to his bare torso.

Sukuna spluttered over a laugh, a hysterical cackling that only grew in desperation as time went on. Sparks flurried through him, his stomach erupting with what felt like millions of butterflies all taking off at the same time. It was impossible to explain how unbearable the feeling was, and Sukuna wondered how humans lived with such a weakness on their body all this time.

“A-Ahaha, stahahahap, eh, gah, stahahahap i-ihihit!” Sukuna’s head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as a wild grin danced along his features. “Y-Yohohou irritahahating b-brahat!”

“Intense, right?” Itadori asked, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. “If only you had chosen a less ticklish vessel. You’re in for it now, though. I got to be honest, it’s kind of funny seeing a bigshot curse like you writhing around like a worm on a hook.”

“Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Sukuna demanded, though it came out far more giggly than he would have liked. He couldn’t concentrate like this, couldn’t even begin to start to try to reclaim his arms. He needed him to move his hand, maybe back to his hips, or somewhere else, anywhere else. He wasn’t sure if the rest of this body was less ticklish, only that he needed Itadori to move away from that spot.

“Not a chance,” Itadori scoffed. “This is way too much fun! Of course, you could always stop me. Just switch back and the tickling won’t affect you anymore; it’s that easy.”

“L-Lihihike hehehell Ihihihihi wihihihill!” He was slipping now, his body sliding down the wall in an attempt to get away. Unfortunately, you can’t run away from yourself, and those wiggling fingers followed him all the way down. “Cuhuhut ihihit ohohout wihihihith thahahat sphohohot!”

“Why?” Itadori asked innocently, loving this a bit too much for his own good. But could he really help it when he was given such a perfect oppurtunity for revenge? “Does it tickle too much for the big bad curse?”

Sukuna was going to kill him. Then, once he was sure the pest was well and truly dead, he was going to bring him back to life so he could kill him all over again. Right now, however, his focus was only on those devastating nails, light, barely-there touches that had his mind reeling. When his fingers traveled a bit too high, skittering at the top of his armpits, he finally gave in. “Yehehehes, ohohokay, ihihit tihihihickles, ohohor whahahatever y-yohou cahahalled ihihit! Sohohomewhehere ehehelse!”

“Are you sure you want me to go somewhere else?” Itadori questioned teasingly, circling the area with just one finger. Sukuna ducked his chin into his chest, unable to hold back the flood of giggles that caused. “Really sure?”

“Y-Yohohou, ahaha, yohou lihihittle—”

“Okay, okay.” Itadori moved his hand away, pulling his other arm down. Sukuna exhaled in relief, an exhausted grin still dancing on his features. Unfortunately, Itadori noticed. “Hey, don’t relax just yet. I’m not done with you. After all, you still haven’t given me back my body, have you?”

“What the hell—noHOHO!” Sukuna burst into laughter anew as his arms wrapped around himself, trapping him in a tickly hug as fingers wiggled up and down his sides. “S-SHIHIHIT!”

“Regretting your words yet?”

Sukuna thrashed wildly, howling as he doubled over in a useless attempt to protect himself. The snarky remarks were gone now, so completely was he lost to his own laughter. His skin twitched and goosebumps scattered up his sides, a helpless reaction to the playful tickling.

Because it was playful. Despite everything, he could tell that Itadori was having fun with this. And maybe, just maybe, the other was too. His insides felt warm and fuzzy in a way they hadn’t in a while, his laughter peaking between desperation and silly giggles. It was strangely addicting to give in like this, allowing the tickling to consume his thoughts and blur out any remaining negativity.

It was… nice.

“I-IIHIHITADORI!” His head was thrown back, a hearty flush spreading across his cheeks and warming his skin. “I-IHIHI CAHAHAN’T!”

“You know how to stop this,” Itadori reminded him. “Just switch back and the tickling stops.”

Sukuna fell back on the floor, unable to hold himself up against the relentless tickling. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, the sensations breaking through the last of his revolve. And finally, at last, he caved in.

With a start, Itadori felt the other ducking back into himself, releasing his body in the process. He stopped wiggling his fingers, sitting up slowly as he regained control of himself once more. He was sweaty and exhausted, like he’d just ran a marathon, and he could feel that familiar floating sensation in the pit of his stomach that came with being tickled.

“Damn brat,” Sukuna complained from inside him, and Itadori smiled fondly. He would have to remember this method for next time.

“What the hell?”

Itadori startled as a voice shot through his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Megumi standing in the hallway. He was still in pajamas, and his hair was sticking out in several directions. The look on his face implied he’d just woken up. The two made eye contact, Megumi taking in Itadori’s flushed features and his sprawled position on the floor.

Megumi furrowed his brows in confusion. “Itadori? I heard a noise and I thought… are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Itadori dismissed, sitting up slowly. “I was… sleep-walking. Yeah, that’s it. Just a weird dream, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Megumi continued to stare at him for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to believe the other. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Alright. If you say so. Just keep it down next time, will you? Some of us are actually trying to sleep.”

Itadori threw the other a hearty thumbs-up, grinning innocently. “Will do!”

Megumi frowned, but eventually disappeared back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Itadori stood up fully, his legs a little shaky from the previous tickling, and decided to do the same. It was the middle of the night after all—sleep was probably in order. However, as he turned the knob to shut the door behind him, he heard a voice loud and clear in his head.

“Sleep tonight, young sorcerer, and get your rest. Because tomorrow—” a sudden pinch to his side as Sukuna wrestled control of his hand—“it’s your turn.”

Itadori regained control almost instantly, and his hand was his again as though nothing had happened. He smiled nervously, not doubting the other’s words for a minute.

And as he got into bed that night, pulling the covers tight around himself, he found he couldn’t wait.

#tickling #tickle fic #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #yuji itadori #fanfiction

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massivedrickhead · 3 years

Text

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 2

July 27th: Bed sharing/one bed

Read on AO3

Fun fact - everything I’ve written/will write for Bechloe week this year are all part of the same universe, but they won’t be posted in chronological order. So at the end of the week I’ll probably put something up with a list of the prompts in chronological order :)

Beca was pretty sure that sharing a bed with Chloe Beale was simultaneously the worst and best thing that had ever happened to her.

It was almost unbearable to be that close to her without being able to touch her in the way she really wanted to.

Strike that.

It was unbearable.

But Beca couldn’t sleep any other way.

On those occasions when Chloe would sleep elsewhere, Beca would find herself unable to drop off.

She’d be up most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, unable to shut her mind off.

It was as if Chloe’s mere presence could calm Beca in a way that nothing else could.

And then they would have these moments of complete vulnerability late at night.

Chloe would reach out with a featherlight touch and run a hand through Beca’s hair. So gentle that sometimes Beca thought she was imagining it.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“M’kay.”

Beca would roll over, still practically asleep, and lift her arm, allowing Chloe to either scoot back into her - making Beca the big spoon - or for her to rest her head on her chest.

Beca was usually already asleep by the time Chloe had gotten into a comfortable position, but she always seemed to register the soft “thanks,” that Chloe would whisper.

On those nights when it was Beca’s turn to be comforted, Chloe seemed to always know without Beca having to ask.

Logically, Beca knew it was probably down to the fact that Beca tossed and turned more, or played on her phone for longer, that tipped Chloe off, but she liked to think that Chloe just… knew.

“What do you need?” Chloe would ask, her voice quiet and thick with sleep.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Can you do the hair thing?”

“Mhm.”

Chloe would then lie on her side and gently run her hands through Beca’s hair, her nails lightly scratching her scalp.

Her other hand would rest on Beca’s side or stomach - depending on if she was on her back or side - and her thumb would sweep gently back and forth.

In the daylight, neither would mention these moments. They’d usually wake up back on their respective sides, and if they didn’t whoever woke up first would pull away and climb out of bed - usually waking the other in the process.

And while these moments were nothing short of tortuous for Beca, they were still the favourite part of her day.

Because at two or three in the morning, nothing else matters. There are no distractions. No texts or emails to answer. No potential to be interrupted. Nowhere they needed to be.

They could just exist in the quiet together. Their bed was an island in the room. They could ask questions that, in the cold light of day, could be forgotten or ignored. They could share secrets or confess insecurities that neither would at any other time of day.

“Bec, do you believe in soulmates?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Do you?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“If I hadn’t kissed Jesse, do you think things would be different?”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just different. I dated him throughout all of college, maybe I missed experiencing some things?”

“Do you regret dating him so long?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Chlo’?”

“‘Yeah?”

“What if I don’t make it as a producer? What if I’m not good enough?”

“You’re the most talented person I know. You’ll make it.”

Over the years of being best friends with Chloe, she’d always had a crush on her. It had been a harmless thing really, she assumed everyone had a crush on Chloe.

Especially after a drunken confession to Aubrey had caused the blonde to let out a snort of laughter and say “girl, same.”

But this last year or so that they’d spent sharing a bed - sharing more of themselves with each other than they’d ever done before - Beca had fallen hard and fast and completely in love with Chloe.

Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t an ideal situation. Especially considering that, about three weeks ago, Chloe had started dating Chicago.

“He rescued us from the Med, Beca. I think I owe him a date.”

“Technically Amy and I rescued you. He turned up after the hard bit was done.”

Wearing a new dress and her highest heels, Chloe had thrown Beca a wink and said “don’t wait up!” as she left their apartment to meet him for the third time this week.

Once the door closed, Beca flopped back dramatically on the bed and let out a groan.

“You know you could tell her!” Amy called from her bedroom. “Actually, ignore that, that’s a bad idea. If she turned you down it would make our living situation way more awkward.”

“When not if,” Beca said, miserably. “Have you seen the abs on Shit-ago?”

(Yes, her nickname for Chicago was unnecessarily mean and childish, but give her a break.)

“If Chloe hadn’t accepted the date I would have climbed him like a tree,” Amy said.

“You could save me a lot of pain if you’d use those millions of dollars you have to move out so I could at least have my own room,” Beca said.

Amy left her room and was also looking dressed up for a night out.

“I’m doing you a favour captain,” Amy said. “If I move out you’ll have no excuse to share a bed anymore, and I know you can’t sleep without her. Besides, when she eventually moves in with Chicago, you won’t be able to afford the rent on your own.”

“Please don’t use his real name, it humanises him,” Beca said. “And what makes you think she’d move in with him? Has she said anything?”

“Not specifically, no. But things are obviously going well between them. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Chloe has found ‘the one’,” Amy said. “So, you know, if you’re going to make a confession of love, time’s ticking.” She checked her phone. “I gotta go. If you are going to comfort eat please leave my Ben & Jerry’s out of it.”

“I make no promises,” Beca said.

“Hmm, due to your pathetic state, I’ll let you off. See you tomorrow!”

Beca spent the remainder of her night feeling sorry for herself, and making some truly self-indulgent mixes.

There were so many songs about unrequited love that Beca was never short of material, and when she finished she saved them in a hidden password-protected so no-one else could even accidentally listen to them.

No, these mixes weren’t going to help her career but they did make her feel at least a little bit better.

The crying and eating Amy’s ice-cream had helped too of course.

Beca was in bed by the time Chloe got back that night, and even thought she wasn’t asleep she pretended she was.

Chloe could always tell when Beca had been crying, and she definitely did not want to talk about the reason why.

So she closed her eyes when she heard the keys in the door, and kept them closed as the lights came on which was followed by the sound of high-heeled shoes walking across the apartment.

She felt the bed dip behind her, and heard the click of Chloe’s lamp turn on.

The bed jostled again, and the main light went off.

She heard running water from the bathroom as Chloe washed off her makeup and brushed her teeth, and then the sound of drawers opening as she searched for pyjamas.

She heard Chloe undressing, and tried not to picture it. She hoped Chloe didn’t need help with unzipping her dress, because she didn’t know if she could handle that right now.

Eventually the bed dipped again and the light went out.

She felt Chloe gently tug at the blankets so she could cover herself.

Then there was nothing but a calm silence.

Beca could tell by the way that Chloe was breathing that she wasn’t asleep yet and before she could stop herself, she was rolling over to face her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” Chloe replied. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Beca just smiled as she looked at Chloe’s face in the moonlight. She was so beautiful.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Beca said. “How was your night?”

They were both whispering, even though they were the only two people in the apartment, and it was only a little after midnight.

“Fine,” Chloe said. “What did you get up to?”

“Made some mixes,” Beca said. “Before you ask, no. They’re not ready yet.”

Chloe grinned. “Not even for me?”

“Especially not for you.”

“Spoil sport,” Chloe said.

They fell into an easy silence while they just continued to look at each other, and Beca felt that tug in her heart again.

She wanted more than anything to just reach out and touch her. To tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. To sweep her thumb across her jaw.

To kiss her.

God, she wanted to kiss her.

She swallowed, and turned so she was lying on her back.

Amy was right. Time was running out if she was going to say something. And Beca knew she had to say something.

She just didn’t think she could look at Chloe while she said it.

“Is everything okay?” Chloe asked, in her gentlest voice that was always Beca’s undoing.

She just had to do it. She had to rip the bandaid off and deal with whatever came after.

If Chloe turned her down… well… their friendship could survive that.

Right?

“Are you gonna move in with Chicago?”

If she’d been looking at Chloe she’d have seen her frown.

“What? No, what made you ask that? We’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks,” Chloe sounded genuinely confused, and it spurred Beca on. “We’ve been on, like, six dates.”

“But is that something you could see yourself doing? With him, I mean.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t really know him, I hadn’t thought about it. Why?”

Beca swallowed again.

It was now or never.

“Chloe, I… fuck, this is… look, this is hard, okay. I’m not good at this.”

“Bec, you’re kinda freaking me out,” Chloe said. She sat up and switched on the lamp on her nightstand.

Beca felt instantly exposed and vulnerable - way too vulnerable - and she was up and off the bed in seconds.

“Beca-”

“Just… just give me a second,” Beca said, her heart beating uncomfortably.

She could feel tears building in her eyes and, at that exact moment, they heard the sound of keys in the door before Amy walked in.

“Funny story,” she said, shutting the door and walking further into the room. “Turns out it’s next week that I’m staying-”

She stopped abruptly, realising she had stepped into some kind of emotional minefield.

“Uh oh,” she said. “Beca when I said you should tell her I didn’t mean toni-”

“Nope!” Beca said, loudly cutting her off before walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Okay, so this wasn’t exactly going to plan.

She had locked herself in the bathroom and was maybe on the verge of a panic attack.

Not an ideal situation.

“Beca,” Chloe said, knocking on the door. “Come on, you can’t stay in there forever.”

I can try, Beca thought.

When Beca didn't respond, or give any indication that she would come out of the bathroom anytime soon, Chloe turned to Amy with a huff of frustration.

“What just happened?”

“So… she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No! I think she was about to tell me something and then…” Chloe trailed off with a shrug. “I don’t know. Something freaked her out and then you showed up.”

“Look this is really not something I should - or want to - be involved in,” Amy said. “So I’m just gonna…” She jerked a thumb towards her bedroom. Amy made a hasty retreat and Chloe returned to the bathroom door.

“Beca, please,” Chloe said. “Look, even if you don’t wanna talk to me, can you just unlock the door so I can go pee. I’ve had like a full bottle of wine tonight and you know how small my bladder is.”

She heard the lock slide and Beca opened the door.

Chloe could see tears in her eyes despite the fact that Beca was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at her.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, as Beca moved aside to let her in.

It hadn’t been a lie, Chloe really did need to pee, so after she closed the door behind her, Beca sat down on the bed and let her head drop into her hands.

It��s probably for the best, she thought. It would ruin everything.

The light from the lamp had had the same sobering effect of daylight.

It reminded her of all the reasons she hadn’t told Chloe how she felt, and why she shouldn’t tell her now.

Any fantasies she could conjure up during the night were always chased away by the day.

While Chloe was stroking her hair in the moonlight, it was easy to imagine that they could be together, but those hopes were always replaced with facts the next day. And the same thing was happening now.

Beca felt something hard lodge itself in her chest as she came to a realisation.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

She’d have to start looking for a new place.

When she heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water she quickly wiped her eyes.

She didn’t look at Chloe when she came out, and kept her eyes fixed on her clasped hands in front of her.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“No,” Beca said. “It’s… it’s nothing. It was dumb. Can we just go to sleep?”

“Sure,” Chloe said with a sigh.

Beca didn’t get into bed until the light was off and then she lay with her back to Chloe.

“Night Bec.”

Beca swallowed again, hoping her voice was steady. “Night.”

Beca’s phone then lit up on her bedside table.

Amy: omg tell her or I will!!!

Beca read it, smiled briefly, and then locked her phone.

She didn’t say anything else, but after a few minutes of silence, Chloe rolled over and wrapped her arm around Beca’s middle. Her other hand started stroking through her hair.

“You get a headache when you cry,” she said softly, answering the question Beca hadn’t asked.

Something broke inside Beca, and she knew she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I’m in love with you Chloe.”

Chloe’s hand stilled and Beca’s heart seemed to stop beating.

The silence stretched on, and Beca had to fight every urge to run.

And then Chloe’s arm tightened around Beca’s waist, and she pulled her closer.

“What took you so long?”

Beca laughed and turned around to face her. Their faces were inches apart now, and Beca could see the tears building in Chloe’s eyes.

“I was scared,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me,” Chloe replied. “You will never lose me. I promise.”

Her eyes traveled over Beca’s face, flicking between her eyes, looking for doubt or regret. She didn’t see either. She saw love and adoration. She saw vulnerability, hope, and a tiny fraction of fear.

“I’m in love with you too, Bec.”

And then the fear was gone from her eyes and her face broke into a grin.

“Yeah?” Beca asked, letting out a tearful laugh.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied.

“Can I kiss you?”

Chloe nodded, and their lips met a second later.

Tomorrow, in the cold light of day, Chloe would tell Chicago she didn’t think they should see each other anymore. Tomorrow, she would ask Beca on a date and if it went well - which she knew it would - she would ask her to be her girlfriend.

Tomorrow, when the sun was up, she would repeat these things they’d said to each other in the moonlight.

She’d tell Beca she loved her.

She’d tell Beca she’d always loved her.

And Beca would say it back. A thousand times. In a thousand different ways.

#bechloe week #bechloe week 2021 #bechloe #bechloe prompt #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #beca #Chloe #beca x chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

You’re not being strict at all! Is it okay if I request Kurapika and fluff with prompt 40. “What I am doing? I’m punishing myself. Why? Because I upset you earlier.” Thank you and keep up the good work at your own pace!

🥺💔.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, kidnapping, self-harm, slight violence, strict behavior, controlling behavior, Stockholm syndrome

Prompt 40: “What I am doing? I’m punishing myself. Why? Because I upset you earlier.”

He had messed up. He had messed up big this time. What had he been thinking? Why had he said those things to you? It had been almost in his reach if hr wouldn't have been such a jerk. Your love had been almost in his reach after months of impatiently waiting.

You had started coming around, had been more willingly spent time with him, searched for comfort in him as well as protection. He had cherished the moments he had finally been able to hold you in his arms without having to endure your struggles, your screaming and the salty tears which had always fallen down your pretty face.

He could have had it all, he could have spent this evening with you, just being lazy and cuddly with you, maybe reading a book together or just enjoying each other's presence.

But due to his faults it all had turned out differently, with you having locked yourself up in your room and him cowering outside of the house, at the front door to be specific. He just couldn't stand it anymore. For hours your whimpers and cries had now filled the house, torturing Kurapika more than he had expected.

You were in pain because of him and each of your wails had hit him like a rain of bricks. It had simply been unbearable for him, his heart had been in too much pain to stand this anymore. So he had thrown himself out of the house, not wanting to face you for the time being. He guessed his face was most likely the last thing you wanted to see right now, the still lingering burning feeling on his cheek being a dreadful reminder of it.

But even outside, guarding still over you, he didn't seem to be safe from you and your haunting weepings, almost echoing through the silent and chilly air of the forest. Why were you still crying? Why hadn't you stopped yet? Hadn't he promised to keep you safe from any sort of pain? Hadn't he been the one who had wanted to adore you like no other and give you the same fuzzy and amazing feeling you always gave him?

But he had broken that promise, he had hurt the one person he loved more than anything else. How could he? He didn't have the right to call himself your protector. And the worst was that he was too much of a coward to even face you right now, to at least try to comfort you.

He hadn't even apologized to you, you had just screamed at him to leave...and he had. Without turning back, without muttering a word. He had just left you mourning lonely in your room. What had you screamed after him when he had done this?

"Come back here! A-Apologize to me! Please...Kurapika!"

He had ignored your pleas, hadn't found the courage in himself to turn around, to give you a hug and apologize to you like you had begged. You hadn't wanted him to leave, you had recently become a bit jumpy with everything around you. You needed him. And he had known it, so why?"

"You're such a horrible liar. You promised to not leave me...You're truly a cold-hearted monster...Well, they say what you hunt and kill, you become. You're no better than them."

He was, wasn't he? He couldn't get these words out of his head, your trembling voice, the audible hurt and feeling of betrayal in it. When exactly had he sunken this low? Had he really...? He couldn't believe that you had compared him to them, the criminals he had been hunting down for years now. Normally he might had gotten angry at you, but not this time. Your words had striked a vulnerable soft spot in his heart and he remembered he had frozen when he had heard these words before rushing away. He hadn't wanted to show you his tears.

It hurt...Someone make it stop. The painful squeezing in his heart, the non-stopping tears flowing down his face, your cries which he seemed to hyper-aware of. His head was pounding, the blood feeing like it was kicking him. It was too much. "Stop this." He pressed his hands over his ears, ripping on his hair whilst doing so. The pain didn't even seem to register itself in his mind, there was simply no place for it anymore. "Please make it all stop. No more. I can't stand this. I hate it."

How much time had passed by? You didn't know, there was no clock in your room. But judging from the fact that it was already dark outside, inky darkness being your only comrade in the killing silence, a lot of hours must have passed by. And he still hadn't come to apologize.

You felt betrayed by this, you had layed hours crying in your bed, waiting for him, to hear footsteps walking up the stairs and him just taking you in his loving embrace and apologizing to you for what he had said.

You knew he hadn't meant it, he had obviously been stressed out by something, his eyes having given his emotions away. Granted, he might have overeacted a bit when you had tried to make him relax, ending with him spitting some really mean words at you.

"What do you understand about me?! You don't know anything!"

"Don't interfere with my business! If it wouldn't be for me, you would have been completely helpless! You're nothing without me!"

If he would have yelled this at you a few weeks ago, you would have snapped back at him. But now these words had hit so differently and you knew why. You had started gaining feelings for him, you had always feared that you would start developing Stockholm syndrome some day.

Back then you had told yourself you would fight it with all your mind, but instead of this you had just given in. You didn't know why. Maybe because both of you had been tired from the constant fights and arguments. All you wanted to live was a peaceful and happy life, just like him. And recently you had started feeling happy again, after you had realized your feelings. And he had been glad too, shown you much more love and care due to you not fighting back anymore. You knew that this was wrong and you would never get your freedom back. But if it meant that you could finally find a way out of your misery, you would accept it. What was so wrong with wanting to be happy, even if it was just an illusion?

You couldn't sleep despite your eyelids feeing like stones. As soon as you closed them, imagines of the fight earlier started to flash before your eyes. You had slapped him, you couldn't believe that you had done it. Sure, you had been agitated and had done it a lot of times before, but the moment you had seen Kurapika's confused and shocked face, hurt flashing his eyes, you had felt like you had just received a slap in your face as well.

Why had this to happen right now, after everything had finally started to feel better? Wy had destiny to be so cruel? All you wanted was storming to the blonde and make him apologize and afterwards dragging him to bed so you two could just savor the closeness to each other. That's all you wanted, it was so cold without his warm body pressed against yours, not to mention the loneliness. You felt empty in that moment, laying quiescent under the blankets, heart heavy and eyes burning from all the spilled tears, the sound of heavy rain outside being the only thing disturbing the silence.

You turned around a bit, staring with saddened eyes at the spot where he would have been by now. But you were only greeted with emptiness, not with warm and lovingly grey eyes which you longed to gaze into right now. You wanted this whole stupid thing to end right now, imagining very well that Kurapika was suffering currently as well. And if he wasn't the one who would prove to have the courage to do the first step, you would do it. Finding him surely couldn't be hard, he was most likely lingering somewhere in the house, hunching somewhere down and feeling terrible about what had happened.

The storm had gotten worse, but Kurapika was barely able to recognize anything around him right now. He was too deep caught in his own emotions and thoughts to even acknowledge it. He didn't realize the cold and chilly air which caused chills and goosebumps to appear anywhere on his body nor that he had started to tremble, the coldness stinging like a million tiny needles. Not even the wind who whipped the water painfully against his face, he did not realize and even if he would have, he wouldn't have cared. The only thing that had been stuck in his mind for the last few hours had been one and only one thing. "(y/n)."

"Kurapika...?" It was barely above a whisper, the wind threatening to carry the small sound far, far awy without Kurapika even hearing it. But he did, he had longed to hear this voice more than anything for a long time, calling his name softly out like this. He tensed up slightly and yet his body seemed to somehow relax as well when hearing the lovely melody of your voice, gifting him a warm tingling in his freezing body. He slowly turned around, tracing his eyes over your shocked form, standing in the doorframe. And for the first time this day, he managed to crack a small smile upon seeing you. It was tired and exhausted, but still a sincere one. "You shouldn't be outside here (y/n). It's very cold. Go back inside."

You didn't listen to him, instead staring with wide eyes at him. He was soaked from head to toe, standing in the center of the storm and being mercilessly hit from the lashing wind and the cold water. His lips had turned a slightly blue shade and it was obvious from the way he was shaking that he was freezing to death out here. He appeared to be exhausted and his voice sounded hoarse, dark circles around his eyes who were glowing in a dull red, having lost the normal flames burning inside of them. It was the first time you had ever seen him this done.

What was he doing here?! Had he been all this time outside, enduring the slaps of the storm?! "What are you doing here?" You looked like you were in absolute disbelief, not understanding why he would risk getting sick and catching a terrible cold when there had been the choice of just going inside in the warmth again. But he had somehow locked himself out of the house, you not getting why he would do this.

"What I am doing?" His face twisted shortly into a pained expression before he quickly overwrote it with a strained smile, saddness still radiating off from it. "Isn't it obvious?" It was, you somehow had a solid guess what all of this was about, but you hoped you might be wrong about it. But your hopes were erased when he said his next sentence. "I'm punishing myself."

No. Please everything, but this. "W-why?", you managed to croak out, tearing up once again when seeing him in his currently pathetic condition. All this just to punish himself? He couldn't be srious! "Why? Because I upset you earlier."

If it wouldn't have been for the sounds of thunder, splashing rain and whistling wind, you were sure the silence would have been a too heavy burden for you to carry in that moment. It only lasted a few moments, but for you and him it felt like a whole eternity. He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing one of his hands through his wet hair. "You shouldn't waste your time with me. Please go back to bed. It's already very late. You should sleep."

"No...not without you." Four small words, spoken in a quiet voice yet they hit Kurapika with unexpected lot of force, worsening his current headache even more and making him once again dizzy, but this time not only negatively. "What?" His voice was quivering, Kurapika feeling his vision blurry even more due to tearing up once again after he had thought he had wasted all his tears the last few hours.

"Come back inside Kurapika. Let's talk about it. You...We don't have to do it this way. Look, I'm sorry for annoying you earlier and hitting you. I should have given you space. I-I don't want this silent treatment anymore. Please just apologize as well and go back inside. Let's forget this incident. Okay?" You wanted to move outside and walk to him, but his sudden demand made you halt.

"Stay there! Please..." He was thankful for the heavy rain who had smeared his face all over with it's cold liquid. It made it nearly impossible for you to differ raindrops from his real tears. "Why would you apologize to me? You didn't do anything wrong. Whatever you did, I deserved it. You should have slapped me more if I'm being honest. I'm the one who was wrong. I-I'm sorry. All I really want is to protect you, but maybe you are right. Maybe I am just like them. Maybe you aren't safe because I'm a threat to you as well. I'm terrible, aren't I?"

He was cruelly mocking himself by now, feeling worthless. He hadn't been able to protect his clan and apparently he wasn't even able to protect you from himself either. Was this how he was supposed to live? Alone with the knowledge that he couldn't protect anyone?

"Prove it to me then." He gave you a mildly confused look. Proving what? "Show me you are sorry by coming back. I don't care if you see yourself as a monster. Granted, I saw you for a long time as some sort of demon as well. You took me away from everything and everyone I loved. I still hate you a bit for that. But...but if you don't stop all of this instantly and get inside, that makes you in my eyes indeed a terrible person!"

Never once before Kurapika had ever considered the thought whether he deserved you or not. But he couldn't help, but feel like he didn't in this moment. He had hurt you, you had cried because of him for hours and yet...you...you...

"Promise me you won't do something like this again. That's all I need. Just do it for me." You were pleading him, eyes holding the pain of a person who wanted someone else back by their side. You wanted him back. How could he say no?

Trying to wipe away his tears wasn't very useful, they just streamed down his face as soon as he had removed them with his damp sleeves. "I promise. It won't happen again."

He barely managed to walk straight through you, hours in the cold had gifted him with a terrible headache and constant waves of dizzyness, leading him to collapsing right in your arms as soon as you had successfully brought him inside again.

"Kurapika! Are you fine?! What am I saying, of course you're not! Wait, let me help you!" Walking up the stairs seemed to be too much for you now, he was too heavy and you were scared both of you might end up falling down. So you settled for the nextbest option. The couch, where you quickly threw all the blankets over him you had.

"I'll be right back! I'll just get some towels and new clothes! Do you want some hot tea? I can make some hot tea for you if you want too! A hot-water bottle sounds like a good idea too! I'll make you one! Maybe also-"

Your hasty talking was interrupted when you felt him suddenly tugging you back to his side, slowly sitting up and burrying his head in your chest. You were flustered by his sudden clingyness. "Kurapika? What's wrong?"

"I don't need towels, new clothes, hot tea or a hot-watter bottle. I don't want it either." His voice was slightly muffled, the vibrations tickling you a bit. He sounded really drowsy and exhausted, but still seemed to possess enough strenght to successfully pull you down so that you were sitting right next to him.

"The only thing I truly need and want right now is you. Stay with me. Don't leave me. Please never leave me. If I have you, that's enough. Then I don't need anything else."

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere kurapika #yandere kurapika kurta

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xxlittle0birdxx · 3 years

Text

WIP: Satine

I had thought to make this part of an epilogue in the fic I'm writing about the year Satine was in hiding with Obi-wan and Qui-gon (read it here), but I think it might work better as a standalone. I'm toying with taking it through to Korkie's birth...

Satine shut the door behind her with a heartfelt sigh and began to undo the fastenings of her dress. Every room in the palace felt unbearably stuffy, and she'd felt sweat trickling between her breasts and shoulder blades and under her arms nearly all day. The heavy brocade slid from her shoulders, and she exhaled as the cool air played over the thin linen underdress. Satine trudged into her bedroom, and collapsed onto the edge of her bed, prying her shoes off with her toes. She held up a foot, frowning. Why were her feet so swollen? Those weren't feet. They were blobs, not dissimilar to Huttlets. She grimaced, flexing her toes. Whoever declared childbearing a miracle had a lot to answer for. At least there was nothing on her schedule for the evening. She could put her feet up, and…

The baby chose that moment to start turning somersaults, kicking out with one foot. She could clearly see its outline, even though the filmy fabric of the dress. It would be fascinating, if she wasn't so hungry. 'Yes, darling…' she murmured, rubbing the side of her belly. 'Dinner's on the way.' She heaved herself to her feet. 'Perhaps we can spend some time in the flight simulator later. Would you like that? Your father loved to fly. Although, I'm not certain he still does after riding in a rogue starfighter through a ship.' She kept up a running commentary about the events that had slowly leaked out regarding Pijal, while she devoured the plate of cold meat, cheese, and fruit that had been left in the cooler for her. 'Ben would say he isn't angry that little girl tampered with his lightsaber, but I can promise you, he wasn't as sanguine about it in the moment as he let on.' Her hand rubbed over her navel in slow circles. 'A Jedi's lightsaber is their life. It's connected to them through the Force,' she whispered.

'What have you done?'

The shocked and dismayed voice brought Satine's murmur to a halt. She peered through the gathering gloom at the figure in blue-and-white armor, who removed the helmet, revealing the distinctive deep auburn hair and sharp features that belonged to one of the few people in the galaxy that Satine truly wanted to see. 'Bo!' She managed to propel herself from the chair at the small table in the kitchen, and rushed forward, arms outstretched, but her sister took a step back, recoiling with horror on her face as she stared at Satine.

'It's his, isn't it?' Her lip curled. 'Be'jetii hibir.' Bo-Katan stood in the shadows, rigid with restrained fury. 'Have you forgotten who you are?' she hissed. 'You're a Mandalorian. You should have terminated it.'

Satine froze, heart thudding in her chest, unable to hear anything over the roaring in her ears. Why she'd hoped Bo-Katan would see her decision as anything other than betrayal, she didn't know. She should have known better. How often had she heard Bo-Katan and their father arguing about Mandalorian ideals? Satine swung around — rather like a ponderous freighter, she thought — and padded into her bedroom. She sat down in an overstuffed chair near the window that looked out into the patch of garden, not bothering to see if Bo-Katan followed her. 'I considered it,' she admitted when her sister appeared in the doorway, lifting her feet to an ottoman. 'This child is my family. Our family. Our parents are gone, and I didn't know if I'd ever see you again…' She stopped speaking rather abruptly and smoothed the palm of her hand over her abdomen. 'Shhhh. Yes, ad'ika… I know…' Her eyes closed and she took in a few deep breaths to calm herself. The baby settled for the time being. 'You could expose me,' she said as though they were discussing the weather on Coruscant. 'Pre Viszla could come to Sundari. Declare me dar'manda. And that would be the end of this.' She waved a hand at the window, encompassing Mandalore.

Bo-Katan's lips thinned. She was capable of many things, but stabbing Satine in the back wasn't one of them. At least not yet.

Her silence was all the answer Satine needed. 'Don't worry. I don't intend to reveal the child's true parentage. Ever.'

'And if the Jedi come for it?'

'They won't,' Satine replied shortly. 'Besides, I won't allow it.' Hadn't Obi-wan assured her becoming a Jedi was voluntary? She was counting on that should the Jedi come for the child.

'This is wrong.'

Satine shook her head. 'You have no right to judge me. Or my decisions.' She maneuvered herself to her feet and moved closer to Bo-Katan. 'You turned your back on everything our parents believed. On everything they died for,' she hissed. 'I refuse to engage in the same behavior that resulted in centuries of conflict or hold blind hatred for someone simply because they have an ability to do something that I cannot.'

Bo-Katan reared back, eyes narrowed. 'You turned your back on what it means to be a Mandalorian.'

'We must learn to bend, or else we shall break.' Satine knew her pleas fell on deaf ears, but she had to try. Bo-Katan was young. Just shy of her sixteenth birthday, and convinced she was right. 'How many millions have died because we've been stubborn and refuse to change?'

Bo-Katan held her helmet between her hands. 'There is no "we" here, Satine. There are only the true Mandalorians and everyone else.' She glared down the slope her of her nose. 'And that child in your belly makes you one of them.' She executed a crisp about face and marched down the corridor to the hidden entrance.

#satine kryze #bo katan kryze #mentioned obi-wan/satine #obitine #korkie is a kenobi #pregnant satine #bo katan knew about korkie #work in progress #star wars #the year satine was on the run with obi wan and qui gon

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anythingforakutagawa · 3 years

Text

Hollow words (Dazai x reader ⛈Angst⛈)

Dazai x reader ⛈angst⛈ 🚨spoilers for season 2 "Dark Era"🚨 ⚠mention of violence⚠

Life at the Port Mafia wasn't easy. In fact it was hell constant death, suffering, becoming everything you sworn you'd never be. Watching people lose them self and give in into the darkness.

All this at the mere age of 18. You've seen and caused countless, and pointless bloodshed. Taken with out reasoning innocent life's. And each day it was as if you where falling deeper and deeper into this life. An endless cycle of greed and power overrun with violence. You didn't defy the port mafia orders, because at this point you've grown custom to this thing you called life but, it did make you feel this almost unbearable feeling of cold you couldn't shake off. You didn't exactly desire death, but you also didn't see any value in living a life the way you do.

That was until you met him. A boy with the same pains as you. You could tell instantly through his bright yet lifeless brown eyes. But he radiated that warmth you have been seeking for as long as can remember. He shined a bright light over what your thought was never ending darkness with his cheerful and carefree nature.

You once heard one of your superiors say "When the lights too bright, you'll get burned."

But you knew it was all an act, you knew all too well all the bright smiles, carless touches, and words were an act to cover the monster waiting to break free at any given moment. Everyone in the Port Mafia was the same.

No matter what

Soft smile creped on your face when you enter Bar Lupins. You took your usual seat, right next to Dazai.

"Hey there Y/n!" Dazai said with his usual go happy tone while playing with the sphere shaped ice floating about his drink.

"Hey Dazai" you replied softly in-between ordering your usual drink you grown accustom from coming to the bar on regular bases to hang out with Oda, Ango, and Dazai.

Dazai whined while wrapping his arms around you, the warmth and affection you longed for but wasn't genuine, after all Dazai's blood was Port Mafia black, he wasn't a executive at the age of 18 for no reason.

You knew this.

You've seen it with your own eyes.

His heart can't feel love or produce it. At least that's what you believed, you even applied it to yourself. You and Dazai were just attempting to fill the emptiness you felt. Nothing else.

But you couldn't tear your self away from his embrace, it's was like a drug that couldn't temporary ease all the

So soft, so warm

"Awee, Bella donna. Dazai? What happen to Osamu?" Your ran your finger's delicately through his brown locks.

"Ah, sorry Osamu. Where are Ango and Oda today anyway?"

You corrected yourself before taking a small sip of your drink and settling it down where it once was. Dazai propped his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on the palm of his hand while giving you that signature shut eyes smiled.

"There not gonna come, I wanted time to myself with my lady love. You know tomorrow isn't guaranteed for us. so I want to makes the most of every chance I can get my hands on"

He was right, you were aware of either can die or get killed at any time. You just didn't like taking noticing because it felt so much better to cover up and ignore what you didn't like.

"Hey, Osamu, can you promise me something?"

He can hear the hint of uneasiness in your voice. He knew better to point it out and make a deal out of it.

"Of course! What ever it is i swear with on my life to keep that promise."

"Do you promise to never leave? You'll stay right?"

He laughs to hid any trace of pain in his voice "You know I can't do that, after all death is what I desire most in this world! How about, instead we compromise. As long as I'm alive, I'll stay"

You stood up and walked towards the door. He knew his words hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to give you false hope. Right before you reached the door knob you turn around and smiled at him , a soft, grateful, yet sad smile

"That's good enough for me. Good night Osamu"

You knew a person was truly honest with themselves when panic was brought among them. Of course you knew this based of other experiences, never yourself.

Until now.

You felt your stomach drop when you heard the news.

Sakunosuke Oda was dead.

Killed by Gide leader of the Mimic. The current case Oda and Dazai where on. You didn't know much but you knew where it all took down.

A million thoughts run through your head while getting to the Mimic head quarters.

Where was he now? Is he okay? Was he with Oda? Where is Oda now? Where they even still there?

You stopped your tracks when you saw the familiar figure walking in the rain you didn't notice until now.

"Osamu!" You called out while starting to run towards him as he turned around.

His bandages where gone. Both eyes uncovered. The sight was so, usual it caused you to stop all movement.

"Osamu?"

You managed above a whisper, he turned around and kept walking away. Then it hit you,

he was leaving

That's when you felt it.

That over whelming panic you seen so often that made you realizes

you loved him.

Your whole body began to shake uncontrollably, the only impulse you had was to chase after him. Your breath began to hitch, your legs didn't work like before, the rain caused you to trip countless times until you finally reached him. and threw your self at his presoaked shirt and gripping on to it with all the might you had left.

"Please, dont go, stay..."

"..."

"You promised Osamu! You said you'd stay as long as you were alive, remember?" You choked out through the sobs, in hopes, just maybe, he'll stay with you, even if its just a little longer.

Your heart beat increased when you felt familiar hands come in contact with yours.

To pull yours away.

"Sorry that all I gave you was false hope, hallow words, and leaving more empty than before. Good bye Y/n."

"W-why? Where are you going?" You tried to keep yourself composed but it was impossible, it was all too much.

"To the good side." he said with the gentlest voice he could manage. He once again started walking away from you. Dammit you should just stop, but

You took hold of his wrist and pled one last time

"Wait, you don't have to stay, I can go, I'll go with you to the good side. I, I, love you Osamu"

He harshly pulled away his wrist away and glared at you, a glare you never seen direct towards any one but people he repent.

"Can't you see? I could always tell what you thought. You never beloved that I actually loved you. You don't think am capable of loving. We just tried to fill that emptiness we both felt. And you were right."

Lies

He was lying. He loved you, more than anything. This is why he's doing this. You were the one good thing he had. You gave him a reason to live. No matter how dark and lost he was you always were the light that guide him. You filled that empty feeling that would always follow him since you first met.

It wont take long for the Mafia to find out about his betrayal. They'll surely come after his head soon after. If you came along, the same fate would await for you. It hurts, it hurts so bad to leave you. But he loved you too risk you in any way. This is something he had to do. There was no way around.

There was so much he yet wanted to say to you. He wanted to thank you, for everything. For loving him, for caring about him, for easing all the pain he held on to for so long. For being so kind to him. But now it was time to go. He won't hurt you anymore, isn't would be fair to hurt you more, after you were so good to him.

Your body finally give in, you fell on your knees. You wouldn't of thought after all your time in the Mafia, you consider a heart break the most painful thing that's happen to you. Such an agonizing feeling it made you body tremble, cold sweat run down your face along with an endless flow of tears from your eyes brimmed bright red. You felt your throat closing until it was from the hoarse yells you let out. This feeling of heartbreak was agonizing to the point you'd wish you could end it along with yourself. You didn't think think you'll ever be okay after this, you felt so shattered, beyond any repair

Maybe, if you hadn't realize too late, things could of been different, just maybe.

"The light was to bright wasn't it?"

You stared at Kouyou, your superior

"So bright, it burned till nothing was left. But then it went out just like everything it burned, reduced to nothing."

"You heard Kyouka, if you seek the light, you'll end up like her"

You stared at Kyouka, the same eyes as you, Osamu, and same as his subordinate, Akutagawa. All you could hope is they're never shown the light or filled with hope by empty promises and hollow words.

#bungou stray dog #bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #bungo stray dogs chuuya #dazai x y/n #dazai #dazai oneshot #dazai osamu #dazai x #dazai angst #dazai fluff

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sychjelly · 3 years

Text

-‘๑’- excerpt 01

彡 From ‟ born from stone, she was a flower in the night ”.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He can still clearly recall her features and accurately retell them, remembering even to the slightest details like the scar she had on her thigh, obtained through a nasty scuffle with the other gods. She donned a beautiful white gown with golden cranes embroidered in the silk, golden flowers lining the edges and sleeves. On her head would lie a stunning glaze lily, its colors always so vivid and alive despite being removed from its soil.

Her silky white hair was kept up by a delicate golden pin that bore the design of a majestic dragon, accompanied by the many gold accessories that lay in her hair like petals from a cherry tree. Everytime she opened her eyes would be comparable to seeing the ocean, so carefree and livid, full of new things to explore and see. But her eyes had always carried sadness within them, and back then, he had been too young to understand.

Or perhaps he was too naïve instead.

She had the ability to glance into the future, and while she didn't have the strength and willpower of Morax, she would do everything she can to prevent a tragic end, even as to go as far as to beg another god for help. Yet she couldn't prevent the most tragic end of all.

Her own demise.

He can still remember it. Remember everything that happened. Remember the day he had lost her to the corruption.

It wasn't a sudden thing - and he wished that it had been instead, hoped that it would have been short termed. The corruption turned those infected into monsters, beings with no mind nor no emotion. They harbored the cruelest, most ruthless creatures there ever existed, infecting their once pure minds like a plague. It wasn't contagious, as if the virus had a mind of its own, always going for something far stronger than its current host.

It was a parasite.

A parasite that could infect the Gods, but it had been their job to seal away those bad spirits that had been exposed to it. Or even seal the parasite entirely, of which Morax had done and has continued till this day.

He still remembers the day when she had come to him, a gentle smile on her face as they embraced. As they pulled away, he could see the bittersweetness in her clear blue eyes with a strange sense of forewarning. But she didn't warn him of anything, rather, she had told him to promise her something.

"If I ever do get corrupted, please have mercy on my soul and kill me."

He had been shocked to hear that. Completely shocked to the bone.

"I will protect you. I won't let you get infected." He had protested, but all she did was shake her head. Those eyes bore the pain of experience - but of what, he didn't know.

"Please, Morax. It would do us no good if I live as a corrupt being." She continued to plead, her voice shaky.

Not wanting to continue on such an unbearable topic any further, all he could do was nod and promise her her wish. Unknowingly, he had promised her a promise that he'd regret for the rest of his life, for he only thought that the corruption would never reach her soul.

He was wrong to think she would be spared from such a plague.

Decades passed smoothly with no obstacle, until that fateful day came knocking at his door.

It was the middle of the night, where the moon was at its highest, that he heard a loud cry for help in the valleys of Liyue. He had none to do, and decided to investigate. The plea of a commoner that had wandered into the Adepti's territory, he had thought naïvely, but he hadn't expected it to be the plea of a human for a god to save another.

There she lay, shadowed in darkness, cloaked in a black that wasn't her own. It stained her clothes, spread across her body like a plague, corrupting her body and soul with every passing second, the darkness consuming her whole. Only then he truly felt fear - the fear of loss.

How she had been infected, he did not know. But he knew something. He had to help.

He had rushed to her aid, his arms embracing her body as she writhed in his grasp, the darkness gnawing at her skin and bones. Yet her eyes, her eyes still kept the same crystal blue that had always met his with such fondness. Though he knows, he knows that same pureness wouldn't last.

"You promised me something, Morax." She had said to him in his arms, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Despite that, her gaze was solid and strong, her eyes piercing through his own with such intensity. He can recall, he knows what she's referring to, but he cannot bear to think of it.

"Guizhong… please, I cannot-" He had begun, but quickly fell short of his words when he couldn't find anything to say. Nothing but worry clouded his eyes, and he found himself backed into a corner for the very first time. He'd do something - anything - but he well knew that once the corruption had its firm hold on someone, it would not let go.

If she had told him before, showed him her corrupted wounds…

Tears stung his eyes like needles.

"It would be better. For all of us." Her hand rose to caress his cheek, a gentle smile spreading across her features. Her smile was a smile like none other, full of warmth and love for him. It was genuine, real… real. But it was short-lived for she succumbed to a fit of messy coughs right after, dark red mixed with hideous shades of purple splattering onto the ground below them.

He couldn't move. Couldn't think.

"I can't let you go… not like this." Was all he could muster, teeth gritting in regret as he felt her body grow colder. He had desperately cast a sealing spell in hopes of stopping the parasite or perhaps even seal it entirely, but the magic in his palm faded whenever he tried.

She was too far infected to cure, but he didn't let himself come to that conclusion.

"There has to be some way. There has to be." His voice cracked with heartbreak as he continued to try everything he could think of, going so far as to cast the most complicated spells at the risk of his own strength. Everything failed, and all Guizhong could do was look on silently as his efforts took no root.

"It won't be long, Morax." Her voice became raspy, rough from the coughs that erupted from her chest. He could hear her lungs wheeze in effort everytime she spoke, and he could feel his heart shatter all the more. The corruption had begun making its way over to her face, infecting her pale cheeks with a dark shade of devilish purple.

"Guizhong, please, stay with me." His own voice had turned into a meek one, like a child going to their parents after a horrible nightmare. He lay his hand on her chest and rested his head on hers, his eyes shut tight with heartache. Her hand gently caressed over his, their slim fingers intertwining.

"When I turn, I will no longer be Guizhong." She had whispered in such a quiet voice, her once blue eyes heavy with tiredness. The pain fizzled in her body like electricity, and she found herself losing her feelings in her limbs. All she could do was lift her free hand slowly, up to caress Morax's scarred cheek.

"I know that." He'd murmured, biting back his tears, hand squeezing hers with such desperation. He couldn't cry now. He didn't want her last image of him to be one of tears.

"Then you of all people, should know what must be done."

He could feel his nose turn sour. And he felt something cold roll down his cheeks. He knows what it is, feels what it is, but he doesn't hold back - the emotional pain was like a wave, crashing onto him with such force and sheer impact.

"But you're still you. Please, Guizhong. Stay with me." He pleads, his heart cracking with heartache. Every part of him was pitiful, and he was supposed to be a god of stone. Yet he was shattering, breaking into a million pieces before a Goddess that had failed her own people.

"Time is not on our side, Morax." She'd urged him once more, her own hand squeezing his. She smiled sadly, leaning closer into his chest. Tears soaked into his robe, and he realised that it wasn't just his own. "Always remember that I will be by your side, no matter what happens… even after my mortal vessel expires."

She gave him the brightest smile as she spoke, and he burned that smile into his brain for he knew it would be her last.

As she raised her head once more, her eyes flickered open with an aura of hostility, an unreadable look on her face. Her eyes were no longer the crystal blues they once were - now they harbored nothing but the effects of the corruption. They were purple, black slitted, and there was nothing but hatred and anger that flared within like a wildfire.

It was then Morax knew for good that she was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ this post is just to kick start things. this is but a small excerpt of the 4k words i wrote while sleep deprived :D

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ anyway, hope you enjoyed, if you’d want to read the entire thing, link is here ✦ !

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin writing #fanfic #genshin fanfic #zhongli #guizhong #zhongli x guizhong #guili #reminisence #morax #angst #genshin angst

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euphoricsunflowers · 4 years

Text

my love — yoo kihyun (kinktober day 26)

a/n: i’m so sorry i haven’t posted much! i’m been going through it but i wish you all the best and if i don’t end up posting more kinktober, know that it’s just me trying to care for my mental health. i love you <3

a/n: gUYS I ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING GOOD AND ITS ACTUALLY A DECENT LENGTH I FEEL SO ACCOMPLISHED

word count: 1.6k

content: fem!reader, siren!kihyun, dom/sub themes are pretty light in this one, riding, uhm warning he does kinda try to kill you(?), singing, voice kink we’re kinda living

taglist: @skjdln @lovingonrepeat @maknaeronix @neosincity

you had to admit: it was overall a bad idea, but that didn’t make it any less enticing. the waters were just so pretty, and while you may not be the best swimmer, you had only planned to swim a bit! you just wanted to float around and maybe say hi to a crab. maybe… but then you heard it. you heard him.

his voice had you in a trance, it felt heavenly, just focusing on nothing other than those pretty notes and how some parts were powerful, almost overwhelming, and some were soft and subtle.

you reach out, longing to touch, to love, to do something more than just allow yourself to drown. you grasp his arm finally, and he shrieks. (maybe he wasn’t used to people being able to do more than just allow the music take over and destroy them) the pause in his vocals allowed you a small second of mental clarity, and you realize it: you’re drowning.

there’s a struggle, you push and punch and kick and just do anything you can to get free and get oxygen. you can feel yourself becoming more and more lightheaded, the burning feeling of not getting oxygen slowly disappearing as you stop being able to feel much of anything. everything goes black, and something in the back of your head is furious at how everything you did was in vain.

but then you breach the surface, your lungs desperately taking in the air you barely got the chance to breathe. everything is unrecognizable, but you find a small rock by a cave you use to climb out of water and sit on as you finally have the chance to relax. despite being stranded in the middle of nowhere, you have a moment of peace.

and though his singing voice was entrancing, his talking voice was a million times better. when he sung, everything felt cloudy and thoughtless, but you could fully appreciate just how beautiful, how incredibly luscious his voice truly was.

“hey, you,” he calls out, grasping your attention once more, but in truth, he never lost it, “how did you�� do that?”

“do what?” you muse, a small smile on your face. it’s so confusing how you even felt the need to be cocky, but everything about this was confusing. you could blame the lack of fear (now that you weren’t dying) on the unconscious calming effect of his voice.

“how did you escape me?” he’s been leaning on a rock to prop himself out of water, but he pulls himself up. his tail is barely seen before legs materialize out it, leaving you, once again, so utterly lost.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, but you weren’t even sure what you were referring to. you didn’t know a lot of things currently, “come here.”

“e-excuse me?” he stutters, and it feels beautiful, his cheeks and nose are already a rose color but his cheeks darker and it’s absolutely adorable.

“are you going to kill me?” you ask, but it seems to be the wrong move. he smirks.

“hm, i haven’t decided. why? are you scared?”

“come here, siren,” you order, and oddly enough, he wordlessly steps forward, sitting in front of you. the view you have makes you recognize that he’s definitely naked, but you have to keep your cool.

“a prey that fights so hard to survive,” he murmurs, “is admirable.”

“am i the prey here?” you regret the words the second they leave your mouth, and you can’t, for the life of you, figure out why they do. you assume he’d aggressively try to assert himself, because he definitely could kill you at any second.

but he doesn’t, “i hear that my voice tends to make people say and do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“i suppose that makes sense. tell me, though, can i have your name?”

“no,” he smirks again. he seems to do that a lot, “but i suppose you can call me kihyun. what could i call you?”

you move closer, and again his rosey cheeks darken, your lips barely graze his, and he’s stuttering at the boldness, doing his best to form a response, but he just can’t, so you respond for him, “call me your love.”

he doesn’t have time to even think to question you, because your hands cup his cheeks so softly and you kiss him once more, and then again, and again. each time is more aggressive until you finally pull back and you’re both lying on the floor with you on top. you worry for a second about his back, because the rock he’s lying on would definitely not be comfortable, but he doesn’t pay any mind, so you don’t either.

“love,” he whispers, flustered at the way he feels so weak and yet so safe in your hold. he’s not used to the feeling, but that’s what makes it so intense. he’s always been the predator, the killer, the one who makes it out alive, smirking at the dead body who tried to seduce him, but his mind feels just about as clouded as yours, and it feels like nothing exists but you and your hands tightly gripping his waist as your head lowers to press faint, faint kisses on his sharp collarbones.

“yes, my siren?” you don’t lift your head enough to look him in the eye, instead nuzzling your nose against his neck, and he shivers.

“could you please… help me? please, please, please let me feel you,” he begs, and you’re more than happy to oblige. it’s not like you could do much to harm him, nor could you really sneak away. besides, the way he begs, especially with that soft, whiney voice, is just so, so beautiful.

“of course,” you mumble as you stand to remove your clothes. you hadn’t realized until now that they weren’t swimming clothes, and you probably ruined your favorite sweater.

“you know,” he starts, grabbing your attention away from your wet clothes, “this wasn’t the plan.”

“oh?”

“you were… really, really pretty underwater like that. no one has ever looked so… ethereal, letting themselves drown for me,” his eyes finally meet yours, and he smiles, “maybe that’s why i got too close. i was just so—”

“hypnotized by me?” you smirk, the irony not escaping either of you, “i’m sure you know all about that,” you finish getting undressed, straddling his hips as he lays there, gazing up at you as if you were a goddess, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“tell me, siren—”

“please,” he cuts you off, but he just sounds so weak for you to actually get upset, “stop calling me siren. you asked for my name, and i just… i need to hear you say it,” his request is barely audible, but you’re happy to fulfill it.

“kihyun, my dear,” your hand rubs soothingly on his stomach, and he waits patiently for you to finish your thought, “would you like it if i rode you?”

“yes,” he whispers lowly, but it’s not enough. you’ll never get enough of that voice.

“beg for me, kihyun,” your hand goes from soothing to probably leaving bruises in a matter of seconds as you grip his waist, trying to pull a physical reaction out him. he trembles in your hold, whimpering loudly and the way it sounded made you want to moan in ecstasy.

“please, my love, i need you. i need you so, so much. i’ve never felt this way before, let alone because of a human. please just… make me feel alive.”

“alright,” you concede. without thinking, because that’s nearly impossible at this point, you position yourself just below his hips, and you allow yourself to sink down on him. he cries out, and it’s music to your ears. as much as you want to drag this out and really make it perfect, you just can’t help the way you need to feel more and more.

as every second passes, he feels weaker and weaker, that burning heat in his stomach becoming so unbearable, he’s so close, and you don’t seem to be doing much different. you’re chasing your high like nothing before. you hand reaches out for his, and he wanted to feel flustered at the sudden intimacy, but he can’t find it in him to pay it any mind.

“cum with me, my kihyun,” you barely get out before he nods intensely, his moans louder and louder and as incredible as they make you feel, you wonder if he’s hurting his throat. he’s been practically screaming for a few minutes now, and it all peaks as he finally lets go. his body seized up as he arches his back so, so perfectly and he cums with a glorious cry.

of course you follow suit, cursing softly to yourself, using him to ride out your orgasm. you rest your body atop of his, feeling his pounding heartbeat and his chest rise and fall.

“i have a question,” you whisper, your lips grazing his neck but there’s no force or pressure.

“yes?”

you frown, “what now? i still have family and friends who probably want to see me?”

“i’ll take you to them soon, but for now you’re mine. can i sing you to sleep?”

you shake your head, he doesn’t see it but he does feel it, “how do i know you won’t kill me?”

“i suppose you don’t, but if i let you live, you have to promise me to come back to me sometimes, because… you’re my love, right?”

you feel the slightest bit flustered at how you had asked him to call you that, and even more so that he did, “do you even know what love is?”

“i could.”

#monsta x #sub monsta x #monsta x x reader #monsta x drabbles #monsta x smut drabbles #monsta x smut #yoo kihyun #yoo kihyun x reader #kihyun #kihyun x reader #kihyun smut #sub kihyun #monsta x hard hours #kinktober #kinktober 2020

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filmsmakkari · 3 years

Text

It's Quiet Uptown

Wordcount- 1.4k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Tom Holland x Princess!Reader

I would recommend listening to the song here!

Full Series Masterlist

-Forgive me for the abrupt ending on this one, my ending worked better as a beginning for the next part :)

Years came and went, and eventually your nephew, Phillip, with whom you’d grown quite close, graduating from King’s College. You couldn’t have been more proud of him, but you were also slightly fearful. He had confided in you that he felt that as a college graduate, it was time to come into his own. “I must be my own man, like my father, but bolder,” he had said to you. Thomas must have been the boldest person you, or anyone your age would see in your lifetimes, so you feared what Phillip would do.

You feared he would do something outlandish, perhaps he would challenge every member of parliament to a duel or maybe he would marry one of those lovely young ladies that he’d met in the town square- Sasha and Ariana you believed they were called- and which ever one he didn’t marry he would invite to the consummation. You never could have guessed what he actually decided to do. You wished you had been there, you knew you could have talked it out of it, but when the event took place you were back in Jimbaari for a royal ceremony.

You were drafting a letter to your mourning brother in law- dear Peggy’s husband- to offer your condolences when your lady-in-waiting, Kiara of Cinera, rushed in with a letter in her hand. You looked up at her, confused at the sad expression on her face.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m note sure how to tell you this, but Phillip… he was… he was killed in a duel with that lawyer, George Baker.”

Your heart dropped. Your eyes immediately filled with tears. “What?”

“Baker spoke against Thomas during the Victory Day parade. He disparaged Thomas’ legacy so Phillip challenged him to a duel, but before Phillip could walk ten paces, George turned around and shot him at seven- (Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

Your mind was going a million miles a minute. Nothing made sense. “No, no, I don’t understand… Phillip is the most gentle, caring soul I have ever had the pleasure to know- I... he would never… be involved in something like this.”

Kiara nodded sadly. “Yelizaveta and Thomas have decided to move uptown- to Irecabeth. In Thomas’ correspondence he beckoned you to their new home.”

You tried to reorganize your thoughts. Your dearest sister and the only man you’d ever truly loved were going through the unimaginable, and you needed to be there for them.

You sniffled, saying shakily “Um, yes, begin packing immediately and book passage on a ship to Irecabeth. I will write a letter to them.”

You did just as you said you would, picking up a quill and a fresh piece of paper, writing with shaking hands on a tear stained page.

It Read:

My Dearest, Eliza,

Words cannot express the deep sorrow I feel. The news that our dearest Phillip has passed away has brought me a sense of grief too terrible to name. As parents, we must hold our children as tight as we can, in turn pushing away the unimaginable. Tomorrow I will find myself riding my most darling horse, Mignonette, through the gardens of Jimbaarian Court to review our troops. I find it most difficult to fathom the mere idea of doing such a thing with this news weighing on me. It is my opinion, that there are moments in life where you are in the melancholy sea so deep, it feels impossible to keep yourself afloat, so you think it prudent to simply swim down. It is this sea of gloominess in which I currently feel trapped.

My thoughts and sympathy are with you and our dear Thomas as you face this loss beyond compare. To bear a child is to know for the first time in one’s life, true love, And, on the other hand, to lose a child is to know true pain. I cannot begin to imagine feeling such devastation. I wonder how the lord in his goodness could deal such a fatal blow to our family.

My usual eloquence seems to have left me, as I seemingly cannot produce more words on this subject. In closing, I would like to note I accept your invitation, and will do my best to make my way to Irecabeth as soon as possible.

Votre sœur la plus aimante, affectueuse et vraie,

(Y/N), Empress of Jimbaari

You were back in Larione in what felt like an eternity later, when in truth it had only been a few days. You approached Thomas and Eliza’s new home, the picture of grief, your long black cloak trailing behind you as you walked. When you knocked in the door, it was opened by a very different Thomas than when you’d last seen him. Much of his hair had gone grey, and there were dark circles around his eyes.

His eyes widened at the sight of you. “Oh, (Y/N).” He immediately grabbed you, engulfing you in a tight hug. You reciprocated, wrapping your arms around him as well. His body racked with sobs as he cried into your shoulder.

“It’s been so difficult, (Y/N). So difficult. Phillip… Phillip never hurt a soul, (Y/N), he must have been so scared.”

Tears filled your eyes as Thomas essentially restated your words to Kiara, only said differently. You slowly rocked the both of you back and forth, two parents grieving the loss of a child. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not your feelings for him, not the Reynolds Pamphlet, not Anthony Monroe, or Christopher Jefferson, or Aaron Blackwell.

You managed to compose yourself enough to ask about Eliza’s whereabouts.

“She’s out back, in the garden.”

You smiled and nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek before making your way to your sister.

She looked like the living dead. Her eyes weren’t focused, she was just staring off into the distance, her face was stained with tears, the whites of her eyes were red. If your heart hadn’t already been ripped apart, it certainly would have shattered in that moment, seeing your sister that way.

“Oh, Eliza,” you said, rushing over to the planter on which she was sitting.

Her eyes came into focus, brightening up at the sight of her dearest older sister.

“(Y/N)!” she cried out.

You ran to each other, meeting in the middle and hugging tightly.

“Oh, my dear girl. I wish it might be in my power by actions rather than words to ease your pain.”

“Oh, sister, it brings me unimaginable joy to see you here now,” she released you from the hug, walking you both back to the planter and taking a seat. “Especially now that our dear sweet Peggy has passed on, your presence is of the utmost comfort.”

You stayed in Larione for weeks, comforting your sister and brother in law, as well as your adoring nieces and nephews, most of whom did not understand that their dearest loving, protective, gentle older brother was never, ever, coming back. Most of all, you watched out for your oldest niece, (Y/N).

You were her namesake, and you two had always been close. She’d been the closest with Phillip, the pair of them had been inseparable. When she heard of her brother’s passing, she suffered a mental breakdown, which lead to what the doctor’s said would be a lifetime of insanity. She still spoke of her brother. It was as if he hadn’t died at all. It had pained you so deeply that you had to leave the room when you were playing the piano together and she said, “Oh, we simply must perform for Phillip! He and I have been working on this song for ages!”

The pain was almost unbearable. You found yourself contemplating if life was worth all the suffering. You had never had your own children with your husband, so you had always held Phillip and (N/S) in the same regards you would have held your own children.

One day, you were reading a book near an open window. You saw a movement out of the corner of your eye, and when you looked up you saw Thomas and Eliza, standing close. She took his hand, and said so quietly, “It’s quiet uptown.”

You sighed, a soft smile decorating your face. “Forgiveness. Can you imagine?”

The grace with which Eliza was handling the situation was almost too powerful to name. Perhaps seeing your sister dealing with the situation with such courage is what inspired you to begin to rebuild your contentment.

And little by little, you did. Little by little, it got better.

#tom holland angst #tom holland x princess!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #hamilton fanfic #hamilton

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moon-lixie · 3 years

Text

It's complicated - Lee Felix

word count: 2.116k

song: Unrequited love (& other clichés) - Breakup Shoes

cw: none, it's more fluff coming your way in a high school au :)

Part 1 | Part 2

On, off, on, off, on, off. The tiny lamp sitting on his desk became the victim of the void haunting his head. If there were words to express what he felt then he wished he knew them, he wished he could have a vast vocabulary that helped him give a name to the feeling that wrapped his heart without hesitation.

On. He tapped one last time at the lamp before observing the objects laying in front of him. The mere sight of the never ending lines on the medium size, green book made him feel sick. Everything was too much, too difficult, complex beyond his understanding, confusing.

The sapphire pencil that was meant to help him take notes now tapped insistently against his thigh as he attempted to concentrate. He hated studying but at this point he would be glad to concentrate on millions of books if that meant occupying his head with something else.

His eyes travelled to his window which meant staring at the window in front of his, the one with white curtains that rarely blocked his view of the carefully decorated room. There was the nightstand and the tiniest bit of the bed that he couldn’t fully see from where he was sitting. Even when the lights were off he could still manage to imagine the pair of converse laying on the floor in front of the bed and the yellow hoodie resting on the edge of the bed.

He snapped out of his train of thoughts when he realized what he was doing, yet again staring like a creep into someone else’s room. Such thoughts always scared him beyond words. It made him anxious to think about the fact that he spent so much time looking out the window, not to admire the flowers in his neighbour's garden but the room of someone else.

Maybe he was a creep, maybe he was crazy and at the most unexpected day he would do something worth getting him into a psychiatric ward. No, definitely not. The bottom of his pencil now rested in between his teeth; he just watched out of curiosity and fascination, that was all.

A heavy groan filled his room before he rested his forehead against the cold surface of the table. The graphite threatened to stain one of the pages of his notebook but it just couldn’t, because there was nothing he could write or draw despite how his fingers ached to do so.

He wished there was a way to turn into a poet or the best of artists in just a couple of seconds, because his heart ached to express itself in some way. And since it was impossible, Felix sat there drowning in nameless sensations.

Off. His fingers quickly hurried to turn off his lamp as soon as the room in front of his flooded with light. Breath abandoned his lungs and in his mind there was now silence, the one he had been wishing for in the last hours.

He didn’t dare move or even breathe too loudly. Despite nobody being able to see him he felt observed and scrutinized; maybe he was just experiencing what you would feel if you were to catch his eyes staring at you.

You entered the room looking tired and like always, the yellow hoodie found its way to your fingers in order to bring you comfort after a long day. Without thinking it for more than a second he turned around and felt his cheeks turning bright red. He always turned around and wondered, who the hell changes in front of their window? Because he surely did not and perhaps you should stop.

Minutes, maybe seconds, passed by and he turned around once again to face the window. You sat in an unorthodox position in front of your desk, right in front of your window, as if it was meant to be that his eyes could reach your room and yours could reach his too.

He needed to stop or else he would go mad. He needed to get you out of his head or else his mind would explode.

Careful and gentle steps guided him to his bed before he decided to plop down on it. He needed to get away from that window. Perhaps even block it with something. No, that would be definitely going too far.

This time his groan was muffled by the fluffiness of his pillow. It smelled like vanilla, would you smell like vanilla too?

He screamed this time a little louder than what he usually allowed himself to be while the rest of his family was at home. That’s it Lee Felix, get your crap together and stop sounding like such a creep.

After a couple of minutes he sat on bed and hugged his pillow tightly, letting a pout hang loosely on his lips. His fingers pinched the soft material of his pillow harshly before releasing it and going back at it again. Everything was a loop, his actions, his thoughts, and the feeling of helplessness.

Maybe he just needed fresh air, a new life, and exchanging rooms with someone so he couldn’t look at you anymore.

The stairs barely bulged under the weight of his steps, even his family seemed to mind more as they threw questioning looks in his direction. But he quickly excused himself by saying he wanted to take a walk and in no time he was being greeted by the night air.

Off. He saw the light disappear from your room and he cursed under his breath, because even when he tried to escape from your thought he couldn’t help but take a last glance at your window.

Sprinting, he was now sprinting just to get away because the uneasiness in his stomach became even more unbearable as seconds passed by. And then time was the one sprinting as it passed by swiftly before his eyes finally closed and his back pressed against his mattress.

You smelt like lavender and felt like clouds. You felt real, warm, and truly mesmerizing. Your lips were two soft cushions that brought clarity to his mind, because as he kissed you there were no more doubts haunting his chest. He wanted to be there with you and that was the only answer.

His hands felt the skin of your arms, your hair, and the fabric of the sheets of your bed. The bed that was in the middle of the room he had seen so many times from afar. And meanwhile, you giggled happily and allowed him to take a good look at you from up close, to every single detail of your face, your hands, your hair, your lips…

He woke suddenly, beads of sweats threatening to race each other to see which could make it faster through his forehead. Adorable, Felix. You couldn’t have a cute dream, you had to go and dream you were making out with your neighbour.

Liking you was complicated, but everything is at that age. Almost making it out of high school but still having to go through many boring classes and overly complicated situations. That’s why his mind was a complete disaster.

Seeing you from afar or even daring to look at your window was complicated, but the kind of complicated that made him eager for more and feel his heart flutter. So maybe he was fond of complicated, as long as it wasn’t in a math textbook.

On. This time it wasn’t his lamp or the light of your room, it was the music dancing its way from his earbuds to his brain. The only thing that kept him sane through the mess that was life.

And then it wasn’t your window that he stared at but the back of your head, how you would look out the window of the classroom, and how your elbows moved as you scribbled on the pages of a textbook you couldn’t seem to care less about.

Off. He quickly paused his music before looking at your direction. You had talked to him while you both stood waiting for the bus to arrive but he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Nothing, I’m sorry.” You quickly muttered before flashing him an apologetic smile; he wanted to punch himself in the face.

After that he put his earbuds back on his ears but he didn’t play anything, hoping that you would have something else to say while the two of you waited, or maybe during the suffocating time sitting by your side on the bus, or perhaps right before you both entered your respective houses. But you didn’t and he felt stupid for not saying something himself.

This time he avoided his room for as long as he could, avoided the lavender smell of his sister’s room that made his heart beat rapidly, because you smelled like that in his dream. He avoided the thought of you for as much as he could until he needed to go to his room.

On. He had hesitated on the door of his room and then over the lightswitch, but he eventually turned the light on and noticed your light was on too.

Liking you was complicated, but it was even more burdening to wait like an idiot in front of his window for the rest of his days. Fuck it. He was going to die one day and if this needed to be it, then at least he would perish while trying to do something.

His feet moved quickly, almost flying as he walked down the stairs. The cold night air greeted his face when he opened the front door but that was still not enough to sober up his hazy mind. Even when his knuckles knocked loud enough on his neighbour’s door, it was still all a blur.

You being the one opening the door was like a slap in the face, it took him off guard and forced him to think straight. He felt his knees go weak and his hands grow clammy. Running away could never be a good option but it’s the only thing he could think about.

You greeted him with a calm smile; his mind trying to come up with an excuse for his presence only thought of releasing an awkward laugh to break the silence. This was definitely more complicated than watching you from afar, but your eyes were glued on him and there was no going back.

A loud sigh followed his small laughter before his fingers messed up his hair. “To be honest it’s just driving me crazy.” The words flowed without much thought and he could see your expression growing confused. Smart way to phrase it, good job you idiot.

“You said something to me earlier.” Yes, yes! Perfect excuse, keep going. “And I can’t stop thinking about it. What did you say?”

It was your turn to laugh awkwardly, reaching one of your hands to scratch the back of your neck. “I just said it was a really nice day, that’s all. I guess I was just trying to make small talk.” Eyes travelling to your feet, it looked the exact way that made his heart stop and forced him to stare in awe.

“It’s in fact a really nice day.” Fingers nervously playing with each other betrayed his effort to appear calm. It was complicated to come with an excuse and standing there in front of you, but it would be more complicated to walk away now and spend a hundred nights regretting not saying something more. “I’m not really a fan of small talk but I’m sure we could find something interesting to talk about. Would you want to take a walk with me?”

His nerves didn’t even have a chance at haunting him because you immediately nodded and asked him to wait for you for a second. Your figure disappeared when you closed the door and his knees almost gave up on him. Well, that wasn’t hard was it?

Talking to you and laughing at the top of his lungs wasn’t so complicated; going to bed and reminiscing on his short walk with you wasn’t as tortuous as watching you from afar; dreaming about holding your hand was easy and so he decided that next time he would.

Next morning when he woke up his eyes travelled to your window once more. Despite soaking himself in enough you as he could the night before, so that your existence would linger by his side for longer; he still couldn’t help but look for you behind the white window frame.

It was awfully complicated, but the kind of complicated that he wished to experience every single day.

#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids lee felix #stray kids felix #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz felix #skz lee felix

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caslikescoffeeandfreckles · 4 years

Text

The Heart Will Lead You Home

A very late spn finale fix-it fic based on an addition to this Tumblr post! Word Count: 1.9k Read on Ao3

There was no stopping the way Dean’s heartbeat stuttered when he saw Ohio on the map, the wound still too fresh. Every press of his foot to the gas pedal felt like stepping on his own neck as they cruised along the highway, cornfields turning to soybeans turning to green galaxies of fireflies at night. He thinks he likes these stars better; the blue ones just hurt.

When they cross from Indiana to Ohio the stuttering becomes an ache, like the valves have shut down and the arteries are cut off. He keeps his breaths short and measured, careful, while his hands white knuckle the steering wheel and he presses a little heavier on the gas. It costs him a breath, that foot still on his neck. But he keeps driving.

The case is a weird one and Dean hasn’t been paying enough attention to explain how he ends up driving out in the middle of nowhere by himself. He can’t even tell you what town they’ve been in the past few days, just knows that there was a lead Sam needed to follow, leaving Dean to cruise down dark country roads that shouldn’t feel so achingly familiar and his chest shouldn’t feel so painfully full and empty all at once.

But Dean’s not an idiot. He does know these roads and he knows what waits up ahead. He keeps telling himself it doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t some kind of sign, his heart choking and coughing and lurching like a car on its last wheel with every stretch of mile.

At the sight of the barn he almost turns around. The aching in his chest is seeping into his bones, it feels like they’re breaking from the inside out, like there’s something swelling inside his chest cavity and pushing bone through tissue and skin.

The barn looks almost exactly the same as last time, the old wood boards grayed and weathered and hanging from the frame with just a few nails and the grace of God - or Jack now, he supposes.

It takes Dean a good thirty minutes to make himself get out of the car. And it hurts. Every movement hurts down to the flex of his knuckles, each foot fall against the hard dirt path.

Dean stands outside the door, his hand raised to pull it open but unable to follow through.

Cas isn’t going to be there, he tells himself. Stop being an idiot. Because he has to make sure any lingering tendrils of hope are gone. For whatever is left of his sanity, he just has to.

He doesn't realize until he’s already opened the door that he hasn’t drawn a weapon. There’s a dark growling voice in the back of head calling him a damn idiot, but it’s not as loud as it used to be. It’s been fading over the years but ever since - ever since… well, it’s been pretty radio silent in the last few weeks.

It turns out there’s no need for a weapon anyway. The barn is empty save for some abandoned farm equipment and hell’s entire population of spiders. The ground crunches beneath him and Dean looks down to find broken glass everywhere. There are scorch marks on the walls. The air is stale, untouched for years. The last time Dean had been in here it had smelled like lightning.

With that thought the pain becomes unbearable and Dean shatters like the glass beneath his feet. His hands reach out without thinking, seeking something to grab, to hold onto, but he can’t find anything. He can’t see, can’t hear, all of his senses drowned under the wave of agony ravaging his chest.

He’s dying. Dean just knows it somehow. But he doesn’t want to fight it this time. The desire isn’t even there. He doesn’t know when that had left him, maybe the night the Empty claimed Cas with a confession of love still wet on his lips, maybe in that void of loneliness once Cas was gone and Dean had sat decimated on the cold floor for hours trying to understand what the fuck had just happened and why he hadn’t been able to say something back, maybe just before Dean had walked through the barn door. Whenever it had gone, it had clearly gone with the angel and Dean didn’t miss it. Didn’t have a reason to anymore.

He’s not going to be there either, Dean hears the last bit of his self-loathing whisper, like one last punishment because even in death, Dean Winchester can’t let himself have peace.

I know, Dean thinks. He knows Cas is gone, somewhere no one can ever reach him. He’s done the research. But how can you document the existence of something that represents Nothing? That is Nothing but the absence of everything in all of time and space? But he wishes Cas could be on the other side. Even with all hope gone, he still wishes it was possible if only to give Cas the one thing both of them thought they could never have. Because Cas deserved that much. Cas deserved more than the world had ever been able to offer.

Castiel… Cas… I-

“Hello Dean.”

Dean’s heart stops and his eyes fly open.

He’s here, just feet away, in the same oversized suit and dirty trenchcoat. He’s here.

“H-how,” Dean starts, his mouth too dry. “I don’t- C-Cas how…”

Cas doesn’t move except to blink. “I think we have Jack to thank for this.” His voice is a deep and gravelly as the day they met and it’s like a soothing balm over Dean’s aching body, chasing all the hurt away like his grace has all these years.

“He found you,” Dean says because he needs to hear it again. “H-he found you.” Jack did what Dean couldn’t. The pain that has been raging inside Dean is gone, replaced with a weight of gratitude for the kid.

Cas nods like it’s that simple. “It took a while, but yes. Jack is very… determined. I think he gets it from his father.” The corners of Cas’s mouth soften into a small smile.

Dean doesn’t know how he finds the energy to blush but he feels the heat seep into his cheeks all the same. He has a million questions and another million things he wants to do with his hands right now but they’re safer in his pockets. There are too many words rushing around his brain and none of them feel right, none of them feel like enough. “Did you- what you said,” he tries, desperate to know but not sure exactly what he wants to know first, “when you- did you… mean it?”

A shadow crosses Cas’s face and Dean immediately regrets asking. “You still doubt me?”

“No, no,” Dean hurries to say. Cas hasn’t moved but he feels further away and that alone makes Dean’s chest hurt again. “I know- I know you meant it, Cas. I mean, I-I watched you…” get ripped away again. Cas had said he loved Dean and been swallowed into nothing. It left little to be misunderstood. It was just that… “You’re an angel, Cas,” Dean says, his voice sounding weak even to himself. “You’re like a million years old and - and I’m - you’ve never… is it the same kind of…?”

“You think I do not understand love the same way that you do,” Cas says, voice clipped and dry. It cuts like a blow and Dean can’t help but flinch. But he nods. Cas watches him carefully before nodding himself. “You are right. I am an angel, I was not designed to experience emotions aside from love and loyalty to my creator.”

Dean is deflating before Cas finishes his sentence.

“And yet… since the moment I first touched you in hell, there has been no being or entity I have trusted more without question,” Cas continues and Dean meets his eyes, confused and dangerously hopeful. “There has been no one I desired to follow to the ends of the Earth as I have desired to follow you. I do not love you the way humans love. Because I fell in love with your soul before any other part of you.” Cas’s arms rise to cross over his chest and there’s a faraway look in his eyes. “I have seen inside of you, Dean, I have seen the core of who you are and carried the roots of you in my arms. I held your soul against my chest and felt the greatest warmth I have known in my entire existence. I felt the true depth of your compassion and love, deeper than any ocean God could ever craft. And I knew before I rebuilt your body that a part of me would always belong to you, and no other thought has ever brought me such peace.”

When Cas’s eyes refocus they snap to Dean and his next words sink past every barrier of defense Dean has left. “I don’t love you in the same way as a human. I love you more than you could ever truly fathom, Dean. But I know that it is love because you taught me how to recognize the signs. You defined love for me. And even though you don’t feel the same, I am-”

“But I do.” The words jump from Dean’s throat before he can think them through but there’s no way in hell he’s going to miss another opportunity. He’s lost Cas too many damn times to waste a single minute. “I do, Cas. I- I can’t see your soul or whatever but I - you’re the only - Cas, I don’t want to breathe when you aren’t here.” He feels feral as he speaks, ready to jump out of his own skin, and honestly isn’t sure if he’s saying actual words. But the movements of his tongue and lips feel right so he keeps going. “Everytime you leave or get taken away it just gets harder and harder and I don’t- I can’t do it again.”

Cas is watching him with careful eyes, but Dean can see the hope blazing just under the surface. “So what do you want, Dean?”

“You,” Dean says and takes a step forward. “Us. I want us.”

The hope bleeds through into the blue and Cas’s eyes shine like the stars Dean’s been avoiding. “Is that all?”

Dean shakes his head. There’s a new life unraveling in his head as he takes another step closer to Cas. A life far away from hunting, with a cozy little home with enough yard space for a vegetable garden, a garage to shield Baby when they aren’t filling her trunk with suitcases instead of weapons and driving to the ocean just because. A life with kids and familiar faces at the supermarket and big family dinners with friends on Friday evenings. And Cas. Every minute of every day there is Cas. The only constant, the only necessity. “I have a list,” he admits and takes another step. “But you come first.”

Cas is close enough to touch now and so Dean does. His hands fall on Cas’s waist and slide around his back to pull the angel forward and Cas comes with no resistance. He falls into Dean’s chest like a missing puzzle piece, his arms wrapping around Dean’s shoulders and clutching tight.

“You have me, Cas,” Dean whispers into his angel’s ears. It’s a moot point by now but he thinks they both deserve the reassurance. “You’ve always had me.”

“I want to go home,” Cas says, his voice soft but still sending a rumble through Dean’s body.

Dean clings even tighter. “Then let’s go make one.”

#sorry i'm so late!! anyway ta-da!! my fix-it!!!#destiel #deancas #spn finale #mine #I just really wanted them alive and together and i loved the idea from that post of them meeting in the barn #the fucking poetic irony of cas returning to dean in the same barn they first met in #that's that shit i like #okay i have to go write smut for my wife now byeeeee

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