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netherfeildren · 7 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VIII : Melpomene

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Heavy angst; Descriptions of depression; Jealousy; Possessive behavior; Rough sex

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one for a really, really long time.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VIII : MELOPMENE

When is it polite to let go of someone’s arm after you grab it?

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

You’re in the dark cavernous lair of your master, and he is there too, chained, beaten. Helmetless.

Horror.

A flash of brown hair, you blink away – no, no, don’t look.

That terrible voice, terrible for its harrowing familiarity, telling you that you’ll never escape, that you can run from your past, but you cannot run from yourself, from the thing that you are. Your desires, your attempts at reform are futile when you were born poisoned.

But no, no, I wasn’t – I wasn't born poisoned. I was benevolent and good, darkness made me a fiend.

I had a mother and a father.

A flash of his eyes – No, no – don’t go in there. That isn’t for you.

Are you afraid?

Terrified.

And then the brilliant spark of a lightsaber spearing you through the belly – burning so bright hot it’s almost like ice, a burning gone to numbness, a burning gone to madness.

You look up, and the saber is through Din’s chest then. The bright red of the plasma mixes and mingles with the dark crimson of his blood, and the helmet is gone, destroyed beneath the fist of a darker power, his face is right there, right there, right there, your last chance to look–

You wake with a start to the sight of his slow shifting back beneath a thin undershirt. The fabric, soft and worn, and you can almost taste the scent of his skin you know it holds. The shining curve of the back of his helmet.

The ouroboros of your own demise… but never his. No matter what, no matter anything.

“Din.”

He turns immediately, blaster and an old oil rag in hand. “Cyar’ika–” voice full of concern, just at your tone. He’s already setting the blaster down.

“I had a bad dream.”

He stands without comment, going into the fresher, you listen to the water run, the lights go out, and then he’s there, sliding beneath the blankets into the cocoon of your bed, skin bare and warm. He pulls you into his arms, the safest place in the entire galaxy, and there are tears in your eyes and a fracture spanning like a spider’s web through your heart. You feel the soft press of his mouth at your hairline, slow moving, the deep inhale as he takes in your scent. “What was it, cyare? Tell me.” His rough hand finds its way up the back of your shirt, another beneath the edge of your underwear to grasp at the soft swell of your bottom and pull you further into him.

You shake your head, “I don’t know,” lie, “Something terrible,” truth. You think of the first lie you’d ever told him, I’ve never met a Mandalorian before, and you wonder if there will ever be a day that he’ll look back on all this, this time of yours together, and regret it, resent it, hate you.

He presses your head into the space beneath his chin and lets out a deep breath you feel fan and flutter around you, the wide expanding of his strong chest. “I’m here. It’s alright now.” He’s here. It’s alright now.

“Promise me–” you say suddenly.

And his answer is immediate and without hesitation when he says: “Anything.” But what promise you need you can’t say exactly – stay, don’t leave me, love me.

He’s beneath you, inside of you, sleeping beside you so that you can always feel the press of his belly into your naked back, the dig of his fingers into your softness, his hot breath against the back of your neck. Your whole lives seeming to have intertwined in an inextricable way, and still, it’s not enough. Still, there’s something panicked humming beneath your skin, sending your blood to boiling, your heart running away from you. You run your palm up his chest and over the thick mass of his shoulder, hugging yourself to him tighter. He’s here, he’s here, he’s real and alive, and you are your own sick ouroboros again and again and again. Eternally destroying and recreating yourself, the things around you.

But you could never destroy him, of that you’re certain. You’d do the worst, end yourself before you could ever hurt Din, and you realize, with something like finality or fate or the end of myth, that time is no longer on your side.

He decides to take you back to Nevarro after Maldo Kreis. Angry, furious, with himself that his grand idea to take you to the hot baths had seemed to do more harm than good in the end, for some reason he could not, for the life of him, come to understand. You were suffused with a melancholy he could not fight, no matter what he seemed to do, blue and somber, in a way he’d not seen you before. In a way that terrified him. Worst of all, the fact that he could so easily see through your attempts to fight it off for him, trying to distract him with your voice and your mouth and your cunt from the wan truth of you. The sound of your silence hurt him, the dark marks stained beneath your eyes gone dull and lifeless which worried him like nothing else. Distracted and tired and clinging to him in nervous fright constantly, childlike in your fragile vulnerability. And Din, he watched you with a focused obsession, tracked you and took stock of all your movements and moods and habits and expressions, with an intensity that would have probably perturbed you had you the wherewithal to pay more attention, but your mind was gone so far away, eyes vacant, energy low, nights full of terrors and panic.

He thought he understood, the reminder of your past the attack had brought on had to be something more than difficult. It was difficult for him to only imagine it, and he’d not been the one to live it. But there was more… there was him, he could see it in the way you clung to him, desperately, with panic, but your eyes… there was a distance in them too, a wariness when you looked at him, something like an apology and a newfound darkness he could tell was well known to yourself but new to him. He feared that you were discovering something about yourself in relation to him that you couldn’t fathom, as if he were a reminder that you’d been subject to the will of another for so long, your whole life, and you couldn’t again allow yourself to fall under the subjugation of another thing, feeling, something you were unprepared for, had not expected.

And another, irrational, not entirely easily controlled part, the part that sometimes forewent strategy and patience and charged into a fight, guns blazing, wanted to grip you by the shoulders, take your face in hand and shake you, demand you tell him what was wrong so he could just fix it. He was sure he could fix anything that came your way, fix anything you needed, do anything you needed, be anything you needed. He could, he could, he knew he could if only you gave him the chance.

“Will you be alright here for a while? I’ll be just over there – with Karga.” He points over to the dim corner of Nevarro’s cantina where the Guild master Greef Karga sits jovially hooting and drinking and guffawing Mandalorian, Mandalorian at the top of his lungs, trying to get Din’s attention. He’d heard something of a shouted girlfriend and I was sure he was a droid which Din was choosing to ignore, too consumed with the vacant look on your face as he cups the soft skin of your cheeks, the heat of your skin suffusing the leather of his gloves. There is a gauntness to you that hadn’t been there a few days ago, no matter how much food he tried to ply you with, and Din’s stomach churns and flips with nerves like he’s never experienced before. You nod your head slowly up at him, eyes huge and dry and lashes so long they make his heart pinch and throb. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he begs once more, low and urgent through the modulator, but you remain silent, only nuzzling your cheek into his palm, tilting your head further into his touch. He sighs, so full of aggravation and impotence, “I’ll be quick,” he tells you before turning on his heel towards Karga.

He’d decided he was going to tell him he’d be taking a short break from the Guild. He’d look for local work here and stick a cork in taking bounties. You were tired, anxious, you needed rest. He’d find a nice, calm place for the two of you to take up in for a few days, a few weeks, however long you need. And he knows you need it. Din knows of the things you need. Din knows you. As you’d weaved through the busy streets of Nevarro, the gaggle of various Outer Rim tongues sounding around you, you’d clung to him, nervous and jumpy, a vein of paranoia stiffening your muscles, flooding you with apprehension, your tiny fingers entwined between his thick leather clad ones so tightly he was sure it must’ve hurt you. He’d tried to huddle you beneath his arm, nestled into his side with a calming hand on your waist, but he knew your peace was put on. He knew there was something making you scared, something you weren’t saying out loud. And it was his responsibility to know what you needed, to give you what you needed, and any sort of failure in that regard was entirely unacceptable. He was failing you right now, and he needed to rectify it as soon as he could. Staying put for a while seemed like the right first step.

The man slips into the seat next to you as soon as Din turns his back. You turn in your seat, flagging down the barkeep and ignoring the peering gaze you can feel flicking against your face as the man, not very inconspicuously, inspects you. Your eyes flash towards him quickly, immediately clocking him as a non threat and deciding to ignore him, but you catch the surprised widening of his eyes as he takes stock of your own, the bi-colored shock of them.

“Whoa–those’re really somethin’.” Human, but has a strange accent, nothing you’ve heard before, and you give him a non-committal hum. “Sad though…” He adds as an afterthought, resting his elbow on the edge of the bar to cup his chin in his palm. He strokes two fingers along the scruff of his jaw contemplatively.

Your eyes jump back to his face, “Excuse me?” He has a shock of white blonde hair nestled at the front of his hairline.

“Got the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, pretty.”

“Sad?” You spit, offended.

“Sad,” he nods his head solemnly, mouth twisting in a wry half smile. The twang of his accent cuts off the ends of his words. “What’s got you so blue?” And although you comprehend what the words he’s saying are… you don’t understand. You feel yourself shaking your head, frown marring your brow. “Aren’t you sad?” He presses. His voice sounds too full of air, breathy or unnaturally round or something too strange for you to name. You decide you don’t like it. There’s something knowing in the way he spits them out. Something like wisdom.

You blink furiously, give a fractional shake of your head, “No…” like a question. “I don’t think so. Not sad. More– more,” You don’t know why you’re speaking to him. You should turn the other way, find another seat, go get Din, but the words keep coming. Something about that fucking accent, the way his face is designed to stretch over his bones. Din isn’t going to like it if he sees you talking to a stranger. But you give another fast shake of your head, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. No, sad isn’t what you are. You turn back to look at him, eyes wide and understanding now, “I’m angry.” Terror had made you cruel for so long, but you still held the capacity for softness, he had shown you that. Sadness at times too, perhaps. But now, no… sad wasn’t what you were at the dawn of your realization. At the reality of what would happen here soon. You are angry, you think: I am just a girl, but I am also angry. Maker, I am also angry. Your unfocused eyes look back at him, wide and maybe terrified. Shocked at the true sight of what it is you’ve been carrying around in your heart these past few days, after the Thalassians, after the reality of loving Din. Because you do, you love him, you love him, you love him, and you’re so fucking angry. You’re in love with him, and you’d do anything for him, give anything for him. And you don’t think that you know how to love someone without swallowing them, without destroying them, and you also know that you could never do that to Din. Not to him. And you’re angry that this is your truth. That this is what you are, what you’d been made. He doesn’t deserve an angry sort of love, and yet, it’s the only sort you have to give him.

The stranger hums like he understands, taking a long sip of his Spotchka, nodding appreciatively at you or the liquor, you can’t tell. But he understands, you can tell for some reason. “The Mandalorian is yours?” He tips his head then turns to peer over his shoulder where you know Din is doing business, a smarmy little smirk blooming over white teeth. His incisor is chipped, there’s something charming about the imperfection, and you think you need to change your earlier appraisal, there is something dangerous about him. You can’t tell what, maybe something conniving or deceitful, like a snake, and perhaps, not a danger towards you, but still… there’s something there.

You turn now too, to look towards where he’s speaking with Karga. He stands so tall, a gleaming spire of beskar and strength. Wholly untouchable as if there were some invisible boundary separating him from lesser men. You can’t answer his question. The reply lodged in your throat like a thorn. Desire is about vanishing, and you want him more than anything. But is he yours? He would give himself to you surely. Without thought or question. Perhaps, in his mind, he already had. But there’s something about that which you know is wrong. Like the saber. Like the Thalassian planted seed. And so what is it about a person deserving a thing? What is it about absolution? You can so desire it – again like vanishing – but that desire is… what? So unattainable sometimes, non-existent. Just because you want a thing doesn't mean it’s possible, real, yours. The strange man asks again, “Is he yours?”

And so you tell the only truth that you think is real in terms of Din, “He would be.” But can he be? He frowns, but with a smile, folding his face in such a way that you can’t one hundred percent tell what it is he’s trying to express, his eyes roving your face as if he’s never seen such a creature. He probably hasn’t.

“I think you’re lyin’.”

“I’m not.”

“You are sad–” he interrupts, “You just don’t realize that’s what it is yet. Anger’s good at masking sadness, doesn't mean it’s not there no more. ” You’re about to tell him to fuck off before you tear through his mind because who in the Maker does this little man think he is, when a huge, leather wrapped fist slams down onto the bar’s surface between the two of you, sending the glassware and fellow cantina patrons to jostling and yelping.

“Fuck off,” he says for you instead, growled through what you can tell are gritted, gnashing teeth. Reading your mind like always. The stranger jerks back with a laugh and a howl. Din’s other hand comes up to wrap gently around your throat, stroking softly at your thrumming pulse, a sign of possessive ownership.

“Well, hello to you too, Mandalorian,” the stranger says, tipping his chin, giving a flourished little salute, suave and calm and entirely provoking.

“You’ve got three seconds to move before I make you move.”

“Oh, he’s a real hoot, isn’t he?” The man says to you, ignoring the tower of aggressively looming beskar, all riled testosterone and possessive protectiveness.

“Do you not enjoy having your head attached to your shoulders?”

You roll your eyes up at Din, the stranger was annoyingly perceptive and brazen, but entirely harmless as well, no need for all these theatrics. “Ignore him – he’s only half civilized,” you say, placing a soothing palm against the armor over his belly.

“You know, one doesn’t much often see Mandalorian’s anymore,” he says conversationally. Not very good at reading social cues, this one. You take a small sip of the tea you’d ordered, leaning back into Din’s abdomen, settling in to watch how he handles this.

“My people are scattered across the galaxy now. It isn’t safe for us to converge out in the open,” monotone and serious, in that way of his. The complete opposite of this man’s casual, melodic voice like a teasing song.

“We kill that which we cannot tame. It’s the way of men.”

“Lesser men, perhaps.”

He nods concedingly, “Perhaps,” and swallows his glass down full, looking at you, eyes full of laughter, over the brim. “What a little liar you are, pretty. He is…” yours, and there’s laughter in his voice and his mouth and his movements too, not just his eyes. “Well, it’s been swell. We’ll be seein’ you, I think.” He winks at you as he slip hops off his stool, landing on straight locked knees with a little jolt. “And don’t you let her lie to you too,” he tells Din. Something about the man is nothing but provoking, riling the beskar bound ball of tension at your back into fury. You lean your head back against his chest, not acknowledging the other man’s farewell or that last remark as he slithers off. No need to poke the beast further. Din moves out from behind you, taking the stranger's seat, seething as he forces you to take the first word with his silence.

“Stop your sulking. He approached me.”

“Of course he approached you. And I'm not sulking,” he sulks.

“Oh, no?” You snort. “My mistake.”

“You smile for that di’kut, but not for me?” He demands, probably even stomping his foot a little bit which you’d normally find funny, but instead, wipes the laugh off your face.

“I do smile for you, Din,” you say in a small, hurt voice, and he wants to gnash his teeth and howl and do something entirely uncivilized, barbaric, even. That bantha shit sliding in to chat you up the second he’d turn his back. Din finds, with a lot less shame than he probably should have, that he absolutely hates when other men approach you, doesn’t much care, either, what that makes him. He can’t blame them, of course, eyes of pure magic like the ones looking up at him are hard to ignore, harder to walk away from. That doesn’t mean he can’t throw a fit over it. “And I wasn’t smiling for him.” He huffs, looking out at the rest of the dim cantina. Karga had taken his decision with good natured humor, understanding by the way Din’s head kept subtly turning in your direction that there was something more pressing that needs his attention and care at this moment. But your eyes look so hurt, like he’d said the worst thing possible at the worst time possible, he backtracks immediately, “I’m just kidding, it was a bad joke, cyare. I know you weren’t smiling at him.” But the hurt look doesn’t go away, and he feels, a little bit, like he’s going to throw up. “If I admit I’m an ass, will you give me a smile?” He tries to laugh, gives the gem of your earring a little tickle, and you try to return the gesture so limp he can’t even pretend to believe it.

You shake your head, giving up your false smile with a sigh, “How many pucks did you get?” And his heart beats faster than an X-wing. You aren’t going to like this, but he’ll be firm, stand his ground. This is what’s best.

“I didn’t get any,” he tells you slowly.

You blink a slow, confused blink. “What do you mean you didn’t get any? Why not?”

“I told Greef I’m taking a break.” You pull your hand back from the hold he’d had on it, expression going cool and icy, the bright eyes, the one like a scream going dim as a whisper. This is what’s best, Din knows it, he’s sure of it.

“Why would you do that?” Your voice is very small, very almost hurt again.

“I think it’s what’s best for now. We need a break.” He sees your shoulder jerk. “I– I need a break. I told you, I’m tired. You’re tired–”

“I’m not tired.”

“We both just need to settle for a time, I think. This is what’s best. And this is what we’re doing.” He’s rambling, tongue tied, heart beating too fast, worried and afraid and so in love with you that if he can’t fix this he’s sure he’ll die. He’s sure it’ll be the end of the world because he knows – Din knows that something’s wrong. He looks back at your face, and it’s so grave, so gaunt and small and easily breakable, “I think this is what’s best for us right now, cyar'ika. Don’t you?”

“No,” you shake your head furiously, try and stand up off your seat, but he clamps a big hand over your shoulder, forces you to stay in place and you bare your teeth at him. “Let go–”

“No, we’re going to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to fucking talk. This– this isn’t– I didn't want you to do this. I don’t need you to do this for me. I’m fine. If you aren’t then that’s your problem. But I’m fine, and I don’t need any fucking rest or to get trapped here in this backwater shithole. No– no.” You try and force your way to standing again, and he presses you down, goes to his feet instead to loom over you. Entirely in a panic now. You’re so angry. You’re so angry and looking at him like… in no way you’ve ever looked at him before. And once again, he’s miscalculated. This was the wrong move. A push in the wrong direction.

“Okay, hold on– just… hold on. I didn't– I didn’t mean to insinuate… or–” He can’t get his head on straight, his tongue to work, can’t think of the right thing to say, the right way to make it all be okay between the two of you again, to make that dark shadow leave your eyes. “I just thought if we had some time to ourselves that it’d be–” You wilt like a flower, a long sigh like a whimper leaving your body, seeming to take all your strength with it. A felled weed tramped beneath his overbearing boot. “I’m sorry. I’ll get the pucks. It was a bad idea,” he says even though he knows it isn’t, even though he knows he’s telling the both of you a lie. You simply turn away from him, a thrumming pulse fluttering in the muscle of your jaw. But your eyes are dry, almost flinty, but dry, and so at least, he tells himself, he hasn't made you cry.

You’re up and out of your seat before he can even make it all the way back to you after he’d gone back to Karga with his tail tucked between his legs to retrieve his pucks, and fuck this, you have no reason to be angry with him. He’d been well intentioned, he’d been– what? Trying to mend a sinking ship. He calls your name low as you weave through the busy cantina, men turning to look at your ass as you go which has him snarling, hackles raised as he passes them, stomping after you. He calls your name again, and he watches the jerk of your head, as if you want to turn back to him but won’t let yourself and that makes him fucking angry. You’re running away, you’re running away, and he feels so helpless to stop you, like the two of you’ll be trapped in this constant chase for the rest of your lives.

Din has never been one to give in easily to his anger, but he gives into it now. Watching the line of your steel straight back scampering ahead of him, every so often your head jerks slightly to the side to check that he’s still there, slinking after you, stuck in the chase once again, as if you don’t trust the tether of your power that’s always there between the two of you to tell you that he’s still here following. As if you aren’t sure, don’t know that he’ll always be here. That there’s nowhere else for him to be or go after all this, after you. The Crest comes into sight and his heart beats so hard he’s nauseous, sweating beneath his helm. You quicken your steps, and he lengthens his, gains on you until he’s practically breathing down your neck, looming behind you, your movements jerky and jittery. And as soon as your foot makes first contact with the gangplank his hand is shooting up quick as a viper to clamp down around the back of your nape and pressing you forward so that you’re stumbling, held up only by his guiding grip, and shoving you into the open hatch, following at your heels and slamming his fist against the security mechanism, locking the two of you inside. He’s on you before you can even think to turn around, ripping your cloak from around your shoulders and shoving you up against the durasteel wall, pinning you there like some sort of trapped butterfly. “If you want to fight, cyar'ika, I’ll pretend we’re fighting. You only have to say so,” he bends his head to say, right at your ear, his other hand digging beneath the edge of your trousers and pulling them down along with your underwear over the swell of your ass, baring you to his gaze. You struggle, spitting and hissing, but don’t tell him to stop, don’t tell him no. He slides his palm between your legs, “Wet little cunt,” he grunts, pushing two of his leather clad fingers inside of you, immediately going deep, fucking you hard, jostling them back and forth inside of you to listen to the wet rattle of your cunt for him. “Feral little thing. Are you going to tell me you don’t want it? That you’re angry with me? Did you like that boy? Is that it?” And you arch your hips, a ragged moan and no, no, Din, I do want it. I don’t want to fight, please. He pulls his fingers from you with a wet sucking noise, lands a sharp stinging slap to your ass, listening to the pretty sound of you whine and keen for him, and he’s so fucking angry and hard. There’s something electric and aggravated and upset inside of him. Something that feels wrong and on the verge of something terrible. Another slap, another, pressing you harder into the wall so that you’re forced up onto your tiptoes. He opens his own trousers, pullings his sticky tipped erection out and fists it tightly, punishing in his grip, jacks it once, twice, and he’s bending at the knees, notching at the mouth of your cunt and pressing all the way inside to the end of you. He feels the bump at your cervix and the resulting cry when it hurts just a little too much, swings his hips back and does it again and again and again. Fucks you with a brutal edge he knows’ll make you cry, but that you’ll like nonetheless, want more, harder. “H– how’re you always so soft and so wet and so pretty for me? Huh? Always so ready to get my soft cunt nice and fucked, right? Always ready to let me in and ride you however I need? Right, little one? Say yes. I want to hear you say, yes, Din.”

Yes, Din.

“I just want what’s best for you–” he tells you, a continuation of your earlier conversation he doesn’t need to remind you of, and then more spitting and hissing and struggling from you, riling your anger up again. He pulls his gloves from his hand with the edge of his teeth and gives you his palm to gnaw on like the rabid thing he knows he’s turned you into. Sharp little teeth immediately savaging into the flesh of his palm as soon as he wraps his hand over your mouth, tugs your head back so that he can look down into your eyes from above, all the while his balls slap wetly against your cunt, jolting you forward, making you cry and spasm around his cock.

Once, when you’d thought he’d been asleep, he’d heard you tell him he was like a god in the shape of a man, and that you’d always thought that was supposed to be you. Din never feels more like a god among men than when he’s riding your cunt, balls deep inside of you.

“I need to come,” slips your warbled moan against his palm, spit slicked and tear stained.

“What you need is to be fucking grateful and take it how I say,” he snarls, riding you harder, watching the rebound of your ass against his pelvis on every thrust inside, the way the slick root of his cock splits you open, the drag of your walls against him when he pulls out just to snap back in. He grunts and whimpers and tries to make you understand without words that if you leave him he’ll die, that he needs you to be okay, that he’ll do anything. He has the sinking, clawing feeling that you’re not going to listen. Why does it feel like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me? And he’s so fucking angry he wants to cry. Angry and afraid and helpless, a small child once again watching his whole world go away from him. Entirely without choices or home.

“Do you want my come?”

“Yes, yes, I want it so badly,” and your tears roll over his fingers, lose themselves in the cracks between.

“Beg me for it.”

“Please, come inside me, Din–” please, please, please. “Fill me up.” He tightens his hold on you, harsher than he should, rips open the front of your tunic and twists your breast tightly in his grip, presses you up and into the wall so that he’s pretty sure your toes leave the ground and grinds the tip of his spitting cock at the mouth of your womb while you go tight as a fist, the best thing he’s ever felt in his entire life, the only thing that matters, vision going white to black to nothing and fills you with his come, feels you suck and milk him with your cunt. He pins you there with his hips, pants as if he’d just fought for his life, for something he knows he can’t keep. That was maybe never meant to be entirely his. He realizes, like a surprise in that very moment, the thought occurring to him out of nothing, that he’s never seen the true, pure color of your eyes unburdened by the helmet. Open and staring at him, only him, and he regrets it bitterly, knows then that he could have done so much more. It’s some sort of curse, some sort of punishment, this realization. “What’s best for me is to please you,” he tells you. Just so that you know. Just so that he’s sure it’s been said out loud. So that it’s there.

“You know that no matter what, I’m always yours,” And because you’ve said it out loud, he supposes it must be true.

“Where does your next adventure take you?”

He cocks his head to the side, pauses the cleaning of his blaster, dallying while the pre-flight checks work. The curve of the helmet gleams so bright for one second it almost blinds you, and you shut your eyes tight, open them again. “Further into the outer rim. Karga’s given us a tricky one this time.”

Us.

You’re quiet for a beat, letting him pretend – face trying to prevent itself from fracturing, wavering, by sheer force of will. “I think, I’m afraid– I think all my adventures will be over very soon.”

“Why’s that?” Slow and measured, your last game here at this moment.

“Oh…” you tilt your head side to side, let the sin you’re about to commit, simmer and slide between your ears. “The wrong choices – made over and over again.”

Another beat of silence, perhaps, trying to measure where you’re trying to take this, trying to hold off. He resumes his task. “That’s a shame.”

Do you ever kiss?

No.

That’s a shame.

You smile briefly, a whole other girl ago, “Perhaps, you’d have taken me away on all of yours, forever. I would have liked it, you know? With you, I might have liked it forever.”

He freezes now, his favored silence – the impenetrable facade of his helmet like a dark yawning pit come to swallow you whole. You know his intention is to bend you to his will, force your hand into something easier for him to understand, to face. You close your eyes and lean your head back humming. “Yes, I think I'd have liked it quite a lot, actually.”

“Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, and he already knows, so what’s the point in being brave or honorable? “Spit it out.”

“What do you mean?” Playing difficult and obstinate, playing the fucking coward, you do not open your eyes, do not give him the respect or consideration he deserves looking him in the eye while you break him. You see the rest of your life branching out before you, behind your closed lids, like the branches of a shuura tree. The branch before this moment, heavy with the fruit of your potential, your togetherness, and the branch alone, after, empty of him. There is a part of you that screams that this is a mistake, that you will regret this for the rest of your days. You continue anyway.

“Stop playing fucking games with me.” He knows you too well now, your eyes snap open, too much risk.

“This has been fun, but don’t you think it’s about to have run its course? It was never supposed to be forever. And– you– you have plans. If you want to stay… that isn’t what I want.” The words burn like acid, like the worst thing you’ve ever done. All lies. You watch his left shoulder jerk back as if you’d struck him, shot him.

“Say it.”

Your belly twists with nausea. “Say what?” A cold sweat sprouts across the back of your neck, and your face feels aflame with heat, you think you’re about to be sick. You try for another smile.

“Tell me you’re leaving me.”

“Don’t be–”

“Fucking tell me. Tell me you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I think this is enough.” You cannot, you cannot say those words. It would be too great a lie to tell, even for you. And you have already lied to him so much.

“Coward,” he spits. Truth. At least one of you still possesses the capacity for such a thing.

“Perhaps.”

“And what? You’re just going to be alone again? This is what you want?”

You’re choking on your own breath. “That–” you clear your throat, “No.”

“No? Fucking look at me.”

You snap your head back towards him, the terrible darkness of his visor, and for one moment you feel so fucking angry that you can’t look in his eyes right now. “What do you want from me? I can’t give you what you want. I can’t. I don’t have it in me. I am not sorry.” Lie, lie, fucking lie.

“Cyar’ika, please, why don’t we just–” He stands, moving towards you.

You cut him off, take a step back, away. “No, Din. I’m ready to move on. There’s no reason to draw this out. We both knew it had to end eventually. We want different things.” You’d always known how it would end. You always know how everything will end.

“After everything? After all this? That’s pathetic. It’s sad.” You’re pathetic, is what he surely means, but he moves towards you again, the subtle inclination of his body towards yours as if he were trying to absorb the last of your touch just once more.

“Why? Coming from you? You’ve always been alone? Why is it sad for me?”

“Because– because we– I don’t…I don’t want that for you. And we have–”

You can’t hear him say it. The proverbial we, you both wish this could have been.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” And there are tears in your voice, tears in your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks, and there is anguish in his own voice when he begs, “Then tell me, tell me everything, and I’ll help you bear whatever burden you think you must carry on your own.”An impossibility, for worse than anything else, worse than him hating you for your lies or your evasions or your secrecy, for running, what would be worse than anything else would be for him to hate you for what you really are. The truth would be death-dealing. You’d not survive it.

You give him the full weight of your gaze – one last look. Brilliant and strong and intelligent. So brave. A good man – this is a good man before you, honest and true, and he deserves better than you. You refuse to let him think he could love a thing like you. Someone who has done the things you’ve done. This too shall pass.

And then one last bit of truth: “I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you. There’s nothing to be sad about. I’ve never really lived,” But then again, another lie, for with him, you had.

“But you deserve the chance to. By the Maker, you still ought to. If you believe in me then stay with me. Fucking stay. Don’t leave me,” the words spit through clenched, furious teeth and he sounds like he’d cry if he could, and you feel as if you’ll die if he does. You can’t acknowledge it. There’s a star of red, in the vast darkness of you, bleeding out, fractures in the ice of your heart. That desperate wretched thing that so desperately wants to live. You gather your satchell which you’d hidden from him by your feet behind a crate. Ready to flee as soon as you possibly could. Nothing but a coward and ghoul.

“This is what I want. You have to give it to me,” and then returning his own words back to him, “You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no,” and even as you say the words, there is a part of you shocked, howling that he isn’t keeping you by force. Hurt by it. You want him to wrestle you to the floor of the Crest and chain you to himself. And it’s irrational and ridiculous, for you are the one that’s doing this, the maker of your own demise like always, this is what you’d told yourself you want, what is necessary. And yet you’re still hurt, still shocked.

You turn towards the open hatch. “Don’t get yourself killed,” you hear yourself say with your back to him, words you’d said to him once before, what seems so long ago now after all this. After the two of you. A whole other girl, creature, monster.

“Would you care if I did? Die?” Voice full of venom and hurt and smallness. “It’s amazing to me that one person can have the ability to be so singularly selfish. What about me? What about what I want?” You wish he’d hit you, take up his blaster against you, anything else, but you know he’ll give you what you ask for nonetheless. He can’t say no to you, you’d made a deal of sorts, with those words, after all. He knows what you are and what you are not, and he has always understood the things you need. And you wish that you were anything other than this, anything but what you were made to be. That you could have so wholly changed yourself that you could forsake every terrible thing that you’ve ever held within you to make you into the venomous little thing that you are. You beg him with your mind, your heart, your tears to not let you leave, to not abandon you. To not heed your poisoned words, your vile heart, your uncaring actions. Please, please, Din, see me for what I really am. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was made like this. I have been broken beyond repair, and I am sorry.

Instead and cowardly: “Or do. I don’t give a shit. I don’t plan on coming back here anyways.” You ignore the rest. What he wants is inconsequential in this instance because he wants the wrong thing. He cannot want you to keep. You are not a thing to be kept – too savage, too broken, too dark. One day he’ll see this and thank you for what you’re doing now.

But despite this moment of self awareness, on the back end of that thought comes the whisper: Don’t leave me. I’m sorry.

But he does not see, and he goes anyway.

The two of you part ways and beyond the pain of anything else you’ve endured, the abyss of the dark, the loneliness, the pain inflicted by hands crueler than you could ever dream of being, this hurts more than all the rest.

You’re still there, pretending you’re not waiting for him, months later.

He does not return. And you are left blind to the fact that for a long time to come, he will be on a mission of his own – with a little boy, special and magical beyond even your own imagination.

Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din, Din

As if you’d lost a limb, a chunk of your heart ripped from you. You miss him so much it makes you want to die.

Time passes anyway.

You are afraid that you will think of him forever, for the rest of your life, and you are afraid that you will never be in the same place again.

Time passes anyway.

It is two years before you see your Mandalorian again.

[END OF PART I]

Interlude

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#TCC fic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters

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k00sblogger · 1 month

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Summary: When your audition doesn't go as planned, you realize that you'd do absolutely anything to get the role you want.

Warnings: age gap, hoseok kinda sus, messy blowjob, mentions of other sexual acts, dirty talk, pwp

Pairing: instructor!hoseok x ballerina!reader

🔗: m.list

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"God I feel so stiff." you grunt out, bent over as you stretch your tired hamstrings. The week before this one was complete hell, and since you'd spent so much time in the studio your muscles were in pain.

It was audition week now, the week everyone was so eager for. On audition night you'd either be going out for ice cream with your friends in celebration, or sulking in your bed in disappointment.

You'd been practicing for this role for what felt like your entire life. The role of odette, black swan.. white swan.. whatever you wanna call it.

Some people may say it's basic, or that swan lake is played out- but you absolutely loved it. You remember looking at the older ballerinas as a child and wishing it could be you. Now, it finally was. Well almost- you'd only feel complete if you obtained the role of the black swan. Which you were determined to do.

Two loud claps pull you out of your thoughts, and you immediately stand to your feet when you see that its your instructor. Your friends do the same- just purely out of respect.

Ms. Bahr may be old, but she was never one to let herself be walked all over. Especially not by dancers from her company.

"I'd like you all to meet our guest for the.. day." her voice awkwardly trails off as she gestures toward the door. In walks a man, who looks quite close to your age. He's dressed nicely, & walks in with his arms crossed as he scans over everyone.

Well damn, you knew if he was anything near as stuck up as he looked, you hated him already.

"Hello, i'm mr. jung." he says, setting his bag down but still keeping his eye trained on all of us. When we hear the door slam, everyone's head snaps the opposite way, and we see that Ms. Bahr has excused herself.

Very weird, she was never one to be outside of the room during a practice. During audition week especially.

"I advise that you focus on me, because after this week i'll be officially taking Ms. Bahr's spot as head instructor." gasps, heard all around the room. One of your friends liza stares at you in shock, and you return the look.

People chatter amongst themselves at the news, it was surprising to say the least. Why wouldn't she tell us herself? Why is she letting a random guy take her spot? You had many questions, all that probably would never be answered.

"Now! With that being said-" a sly smile is on his face as he picks up a a paper- studying the sheet for a moment before speaking again. "If your not trying out for the role of the black swan, please step back and continue warming up."

Only four students are left standing, including you. You give a side eye to your main competition here, Jessica bush. You roll your eye at the slight sight of her, you absolutely hated the girl.

It wasn't jealousy- period point blank. It was just her atitude, it was fucking horrible. You wanted the role for yourself of course, but it would feel damn good to beat her and finally put her in her place.

Mr. Jung takes a good look at all of you, locking eyes with you for a split second before moving his eyes on to the girl next to you. He gives a nod of approval before setting down the paper with your names on it.

"I'd like to see you all perform the variation you've been taught yeah?" you hadn't even put your points shoes on yet. You curse yourself for what you're about to have to do, terrible first impression.

"Uhm- i need to get my points shoes.. sir." you itch at your arm at the tension when he looks at you, a annoyed glare on his face.

"Hurry up, go on." he says, allowing you permission to scurry over to your duffel bag.

What a prick.

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"Alright, not too bad." he mutters, slightly clapping as you and the others breathe heavily. This variation always felt much harder when you had someone watching you do it.

"I suppose you're all free to go, come in prepared tomorrow for auditions." there's a collective nod before everyone goes about their own business, talking as they all leave one by one.

By the time you sit down to start taking off your toe pads, the room is already empty besides you and him. It was a little awkward, but you refused to move faster just because he was in here with you.

A pained hiss leaves your lips when you see the bruise forming on your big toe, sighing at the sight of the mark. You don't pay much mind to it, sliding your sock right over it and slipping your shoes on afterward.

"You need new toe pads." your hear a voice behind you, and its him, the new instructor. You give awkward smile as you look up, playfully scoffing at his words. "Yeah, guess i do."

Standing to your feet, you sling your bag over your shoulder- muttering a quiet bye to the man as you begin to walk away. Unfortunately, his hand on your arm prevents you to walk any further.

"I think you're right for the role." he suddenly says, and your eyes widen in surprise. How could he decide that so easily when he's only seen you perform a short variation once? For gods sake he just got here.

You weren't ungreatful though, in fact you were very glad he noticed your efforts.

"Really?" you ask, shock evident in your voice as it grows louder. He nods his head, walking away from you now and back over to his personal belongings. Your right on his toes, assuming that he wants you to follow him.

"How could you know when you've only seen me dance once?" you question him, genuinely confused about what he could be thinking. This was such an important role, he'd be stupid to cast it so easily.

"I have a good eye.." his voice trails off with a suspicious chuckle as his gaze returns to your face. Your features were etched with so much confusion, but he could see you were excited.

"I think you're a beautiful girl.. y/n right?" your smile slowly fades, sensing the weird tone in his voice. "Ehm.. yeah" the excitement empties from your body when he stalks towards you, eyes refusing to leave yours.

He circles you as if you were prey, arms crossed the same way they were when he walked into the room. "Your old enough to know.. sometimes in life we have to do things to get what we want."

What the fuck was he saying? Your face scrunched up in annoyance and confusion, you just hoped this wasn't him flirting with you.

You let out a sigh when his cold fingers trail down your bare arm, feeling his body heat as he stands close behind you. "I can get you that role." you feel his lips on the back of your neck and it makes you want to throw up and disgust.

He barely even knew you! And even if he did- it's out of the question and inappropriate. "I can get you that role." he repeats again, only this time he presses his obvious boner into your ass.

That's when you move, picking up your bag that you hadn't even noticed fell to the ground. "Are you fucking insane?!" you shout, and he looks at you as if you were the one who did something wrong.

"Your disgusting!" you scream again, voice echoing through the room. You could only hope everyone had left the building as you rush out of the room.

"You'll regret that." he yells after you.

Fuck off.

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AUDITION DAY

The week had went by in a flash, and tryouts had come much sooner than you thought they would.

After the situation with your new instructor, you avoided him like the plague- even switching directions when you'd see him walking around the building. You noticed him staring at times, but you did your best to ignore it.

You hadn't told anyone about what happened either, not even your closest friends. What you didn't want was for it to effect your audition process, not after you worked so hard for this very moment.

The voice of your friend lila causes you to zone back in, & you can't help the smile that falls over your face when you see her walking towards you with flowers.

"Lila.." you say, giving her a big hug before she can even hand the flowers over. "You didn't have to.. i didn't even get you anything.." you mutter, pulling out of the hug with a saddened look on your face.

You appreciated her at times like these, and sometimes even felt like a shitty friend when she'd go out of her way to do special things for you. If you ever lost her you think you'd literally spiral out of control.

"Good luck on your audition." she says, her face full of joy as she gives a comforting squeeze to your arm.

You don't get the chance to thank her because the door opens, and in comes Mr.Jung . Everyone stands when he arrives, the same way they would when Ms. Bahr would enter.

Now that you know the real him, it kind of sucks that everyone likes him so much. It also sucks that you have to keep what happened to yourself for now, but you planned to confess as soon as auditions were over.

"Alright everyone, we'll begin black & white swan auditions now- so if that's not you please push to the back of the room." Again, four students are left standing- only this time it's much more nerve racking.

You were used to the whole class watching auditions happen, but this was different. You'd been waiting for this for years... if you fucked up now you don't think you'd ever forgive yourself.

"Ready?" he asks, staring at all of you as you spread out and get into your starting position.

Ready as you'll ever be.

~~~~

Needless to say the audition went great. You don't remember messing up even once, and even a couple other students came up to your afterwards just to tell you how good your audition looked.

You watched the rest of the auditions in excitement and confidence, happy that you'd done so good. Usually, you'd let jessica's little glares towards you ruin your mood- but not today.

An entire hour passes before auditions finally finish, and you're all sent into another room. There's chattering amongst everyone, different talk of who they think will make black swan.

You try your best to ignore it, sticking your headphones in for some extra noise. You get a nice thirty minutes of relaxation before it's finally time.

Ms. Bahr makes a appearance just to tell everyone results are posted- and as soon as she says it everyone's rushing out of the room. Your the last one to leave, taking a few deep breaths as you slowly make your way to the poster.

And then- your excitement crumbles when you see mr. jung and jessica hugging at the end of the hall. No way, no no no no no. Your footsteps get faster at the sight, and you finally come to a anxious hault when you see the list.

{Black/White swan: Jessica bush}

You wanted to cry when you read it, but you couldn't. At least not when your instructor was looking at you with the cruelest grin on his face.

He did this on purpose.

You danced beautifully, no one could tell you any different. You weren't being stuck up, but you genuinely felt that today was the best time you'd ever performed it. Your hard work felt like a waste, all because you rejected his advances.

You went home utterly disappointed in yourself, wishing that you could turn back the time and tell him yes. You'd do anything for that role, literally anything.

That's when you found yourself pondering your options, and finally- you came up with a solution.

*:.。..。.。o○*:.。..。.。o○*:.。..。.。o○*:.。..。.。

THE NEXT DAY

You couldn't believe you were doing this. You'd stood in front of your instructors door for a good five minutes before finally gathering the courage to even knock.

He welcomed you in as if nothing had happened, a smile on his face as he gestures for you to sit down. You obviously sit with no complaints, not wanting to piss him off when you were already about to ask for something huge.

"What brings you in?" his tone is very much condescending, and you have to bite you tongue to prevent a scowl from plastering on your face.

"I..I wanna take your offer." you say quietly, foot constantly tapping against the floor as you await a response. He ticks his tongue as he looks at you, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Don't you think it's too late?" he mentions, pointing his long finger to the paper on his table. You lean over to look at it, seeing the sheet of paper with jessica's name on it. It makes you want to throw up.

"With all due respect sir, you did this to spite me." you don't bite you tongue any longer, you know the motive behind this. He was a cruel man, but oh so clever.

He chuckles at your words, shaking his head as he stands from his chair. He slowly makes his way to the door, twisting the lock and then turning back to face you. "You really want that role huh?"

You hated this, you hated that he had the upper hand. But you also knew this was your decision, and you didn't have to do this. You had every right and the will to walk right out of this room and deal with the fact you won't ever be black swan.

Except, you didn't want to do that.

"I do.." you mutter, gaze now at your feet as he comes closer to you to tilt your chin upwards. He looks at you with fake pitty, somewhat happy that you'd come crawling back to him.

"Get on your knees." he commands, and you oblige him without another word. He licks his lips to moiston them at the sight of you, ready to pleasure him and get exactly what you've always wanted.

"You know what to do, you want the role?" he asks, and your hands shake with anxiety as you nod your head. "Then take it."

Alright, you could do this. Give him head, easy peasy.. right?

Your shaky hands are evidence of your nervousness as you undo the zipper on his pants, and when you see the bulge in his boxers you question why he's already hard? What was he doing before you got here?

When tuck your hands into the waistband of his boxers, he sighs at the feeling of your cold fingers on his skin. You try your best to not look at him when his length finally pops out, red tip right in front of your eyes.

He was bigger than you thought he'd be, but it was no wonder that he had no shame when coming onto you the first time around.

You didn't even realize you were gawking at it until he finally said something. "Scared?" the question infuriates you, and causes you to put the length of him in your mouth immediately.

You weren't scared of him. Fuck no.

He groans at the feeling of your mouth wrapped tight around him, keeping a tight grip on his desk as you bob your head up and down.

He smirks at the way your making him so messy, not caring that your getting spit all over his pelvis and even in his small happy trail. "Fuck- sluttin' me out aren't you?" You ignore his words, set on the fact this was purely for your role.

You wanted it, bad.

You pop his dick out of your mouth with heavy breaths, now swirling your tongue around his tip. You trace every part of it, the veins, the tip, everything. You can tell he likes it, because he finally allows his head to lean back.

You couldn't believe yourself, all of your previous fear had vanished from your body. Hoseok could tell too, because you were sucking the life out of him.

"Shit, just wanna bend you over-" you moan around his dick, not able to speak since you've shoved his dick right back down your throat. You're gagging now, but you don't pull away- determined to get what you wanted out of this.

Your hand is covered in saliva, all from you jerking off what you can take inside of your mouth. Or what you thought you couldn't take- because soon both of his hands move snug to the back of your head for more leverage.

He fucks your mouth with a punishing pace, smirking when he hears your little muffled whimpers and gags. "Love that shit- gonna look so pretty on stage." his words wouldve made you smile if your mouth wasn't so full- it only confirmed that the role was no longer jessicas.

It belonged to you, and you only.

"Where you want me to cum, hm?" he pulls out of your mouth breifly so you can speak, slapping the wet tip on your messy cheek. "On my tits- please."

You were way too into this, hurriedly lowering your top right under your breasts. They sit perfectly, and they look even better when he finally rubs himself to a orgasm, his milky white release coating your hard nipples.

"God- so fuckin hot." the words leaving his mouth sounded foreign, and you couldn't believe you were wet. You no longer denied the fact that you enjoyed what had just happened, it was a win win.

When you go to clean yourself off, he stops you- taking it upon himself to lift your top right over your still cum covered breasts. "Gonna go home with my cum on you, that'll finish up the deal."

You go home happy, going to sleep excited for the upcoming weeks as you were officially the black swan. Jessica on the other hand was feeling so many emotions at once. She was angry, dissapoonted, and overall confused.

She wondered why her role had been snatched from her and given to someone who didn't even deserve it. She'd done everything she could for that role.. including fuck her instructor.

Hoseok had promised her the same fate, that he'd give her the role regardless of her audition as long as she gave him some pussy. So she did so, without thinking of the consequences.

He'd played the both of you, and neither of you had any idea.

#bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hobi smut #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #hobi fanfic #hoseok oneshot #jhope x reader #jhope x you #bts jhope

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sarcastic--metaphor · 8 months

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Vampire!Simon AU Timeline

I tried to keep this loose and simple but it ended up being a lot more detailed than I expected. This is a pretty comprehensive timeline of my AU's backstory for anyone who wants to know more or just wants a clear idea what wtf is happening. Enjoy!

Ok so pre-Mushroom War:

This remains largely unchanged- Simon finds the crown, loses Betty, etc.

Maybe due to Simon’s interest in ancient artifacts, he’s aware of vampire lore and has even found some ancient stakes with traces of an unknown species’ DNA on them on past expeditions

He’ll never have the chance to publish the results of his findings

After the War (aka post-apocalypse Simon and Marcy):

Simon finds Marcy and instantly knows he has to protect her, she learns about the crown’s influence, etc

They encounter the Vampire King and his court

VK is initially surprised to see a non-vampiric magic user, especially one as strong as Simon, until he realizes that it’s all from the crown (he witnesses Marcy plead with Simon to take off the crown bc he’s going too nuts)

VK also has an interest in Marceline, the little girl that keeps trying to suck out the Fool’s soul as he toys with her. She's clearly not human and that piques his interest

VK defeats Simon and takes the crown. He’s not interested in Simon himself but does think Marcy might one day become a powerful member of his court. But she’s fiercely loyal to Simon so VK strikes a bargain- Simon lives if Marcy comes with him. (Really, at this point he was willing to kill Simon and just take Marcy but VK saw the madness the crown inflicted and thinks Simon can advise him on how to resist it)

As part of the King’s court:

The Vampire King isn't interested in letting humans live in his hive unless they're soon to be butchered.

So Simon is bit and turned. He’s told to abandon his human name and accept the once given to him- Temperance, one of the three arcane virtues. It represents patience and moderation ordinarily, but represents discord and conflicting interests when inverted.

Marcy still calls him Simon in secret

Simon is stunned that the VK can resist the crown’s madness to a certain extent as he masters its control over snow and ice

The hardest part about being a vampire for him is no longer being able to enjoy sunlight, as on his expeditions and while taking care of Marcy, he fundamentally understood that daylight = visibility and safety and that night= danger

Marceline will be bitten when she turns 18. In the mean time, she’ll be tutored by Simon and treated like a princess by the minions.

Marceline gets her own room, all the food she can eat, a soft bed, etc. She wants for nothing not out of kindness, but bc the VK knows this is an easy way to win her over. Marcy isn't stupid, but she is just a kid. After the trauma surrounding being sent away by her mom, and believing she was unwanted, Marcy is terribly tempted to follow her less than human instincts in the face of a better life for herself

Simon worries for her and tries to keep her close to him. Which isn't easy, as the VK is cunning and ruthless

Marceline also begins training at a young age. She learns to hone her power of sucking souls and when its learned that she can gain the unique abilities of her victims, the VK brings in all sorts of prey for her- humans, wolves, birds of prey, snakes, etc. in the belief it will make her stronger.

The VK is only ever kind and patient to Marcy as she grows up, almost like Simon but with an unspoken air of absolute authority. Still, it convinces her that he's not all that bad despite the fact that he's wiping out all the humans. Since Simon isn't human anymore, Marcy doesn't really feel that protecting humans = protecting him.

But the problem is that Simon hates being a vampire. He hates the taste of blood despite his inability to consume human food. He begins looking for alternative solutions and find that vampires can merely consume the color red

He's ostracized by the court for his meek personality and his frequent pleads for them to stop killing humans. What little power he had with the court is threatened as the VK requires his aid less and less over time. The VK begins to consider manipulating the sky itself so his kind is safer in the day

When Marcy is 16-17, Simon ushers her into a secret chamber beneath the vampire hive. For years, he'd been slowly stockpiling supplies so they can escape. Things like weapons, sturdy clothes, food, etc. What's more, he'd managed to find and repair a car! They can escape together and get away before anyone even notices they're gone.

Marcy is stunned that Simon wants to go back to a life of constantly being on the run, hungry and afraid. Having no home or safe place to sleep in. And with his condition, he'd have to be extra careful of the sun. Simon says how much he hates being a vampire and that he doesn't want this for her, he did all this to save her!

But he never did ask if Marceline herself was opposed to becoming a vampire. However, her love for Simon still outweighs her loyalty to the VK. She agrees to run away.

One of the funniest parts of the Stakes miniseries is that the VK is confirmed to have telepathy but he only really used it to psychically give Peppermint Butler and autograph. So I'm going to use that- the VK has been reading Simon's mind for years without letting him know and has known for a long time that Simon's been trying to run away

Simon and Marcy don't get very far before 2 things happen: the VK himself goes after them, and they're stopped by a small army of survivors lead by a pink haired girl (idc if PB would still be a tiny wad of gum at this point in the OG Ooo timeline it's my AU)

The VK ignores the attempts to assassinate him as he takes Marcy back to the hive. Meanwhile, Simon is captured by the humans and left for dead.

Here's the fun part- Simon's unique vampire power is a remnant of the crown's influence on him. He can cover his body in dense ice that acts like armor. It can be chipped away or melted, but resists damage really well

after multiple failed attempts to kill him, Simon tries to strike a bargain with Bonnie. Let him go, and he'll help her kill the vampire king

meanwhile, Marcy is crying in her room bc she thinks Simon is dead and she blames herself bc she never should've gone with him (something that the VK tells her he agrees with)

but Simon manages to come back unharmed. The only way he'd be able to do that was if he killed the humans that captured him. The VK is begrudgingly impressed. He'll still have simon separated from marcy for a year as punishment, though.

Marcy hugs Simon and tells him that she's glad he's alright. And that it'll be okay. He spent so long protecting her, from now on she's going to protect him (after all, the last time she thought she'd ever see him, he was about to be killed by a human mob. That event cements Marcy's belief that following the VK is what's best for her and Simon)

It absolutely breaks Simon's heart

Marcy turns 18 and Simon cannot stop her from becoming The Star

(while Simon is in isolation/solitary confinement, the VK frequently taunts him over a telepathic link- telling him how hard Marceline is working to become strong. To become a killer. The VK finds that messing with Simon is so utterly delectable)

As Temperance and the Star:

Marceline and Simon go by their vampire names when they’re among others but still use their human names in private

The VK brings on the sunless sky that allows vampires even more freedom than before

he ignores Simon's pleas to return the world to its natural ways. After all this time, he finds Simon's ways not annoying, but oddly endearing. He is the contrary voice to the whole court, after all; and though he might not have much power, the bravery to speak out against the king is commendable to some extent

Marcy begins her unending feud/hate-crush on Bonnie, who Simon secretly aids

Simon is mostly left to himself since Marceline is her own person now.

He starts growing a small garden of red food, assembling a library, etc. But most importantly, he tries to save any human child he finds

The VK got Marceline as his ward, why can't Simon have his own? He promises the court that the child will be his full responsibility and the king, mostly out of amusement and curiosity, lets Simon adopt his precious human children

however, Marcy can't help but feel like Simon is doing the exact same thing her mom did- he's scared of her or doesn't love her anymore, so he's trying to go away. Except this time, he's replacing her in front of her very eyes with some tiny, fearful brat that can't appreciate just how kind and loving Simon is

over the next few centuries, every member of the king's court except for the Star dies off. In every instance, Marceline takes advantage of their death to suck up their essence. The VK admires her for this.

at the same time, no ward of Simon's has managed to survive to about 11-12. Sometimes it was a hungry vampire that killed them, most of the time it was Marceline sneaking behind his back to kill off her replacement, and sometimes it was mere disease that ended them. He lost poor Shoko to infection after Marceline took her arm in a jealous rage and that put off Simon from taking on another ward for a hundred years

HOWEVER, Marceline still really loves Simon and wants to be close with him again. She's... just not sure how anymore. Simon still smiles at her and tells her stories and lets her crash in his library when she wants to avoid boring meetings or whatnot, he cares for her yes- but he never seems proud of her for accomplishing great feats like killing 100 human rebels in one night or taking Bonnie's eye

Simon still holds out hope that there's good in Marcy and that she can be persuaded to help him and Bonnie kill the king/her other dad

And then Finn comes along.

(For anyone wondering, I haven't really touched upon how the VK ends up infatuated with Simon bc I'm still figuring that out. But also, I don't think it needs to be clearly defined, it'd be a lot more fun to just see Simon winding up in essentially an arranged marriage

HOWEVER I will say this- the vampire king once asked Simon for a special gift in an attempt for them to become closer. He asked Simon to give him a mortal name, as all he knows is a life as an undying king.

Simon obliged and after much thought, he chose the name Leonidas. They are the only two beings who know the king’s secret name and use it, it’s something not even Marceline knows.)

#simon petrikov #fionna and cake #vampire au #the vampire king #finn the human #marceline the star #fionna and cake spoilers

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stopaskinf · 1 month

Text

Drunk Dude in the Bathroom

(Hoshi x fem!black!reader)

Summary: The title really says it all. You try to go piss during a party and find Hoshi crying in the bathroom.

Genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers???, college AU

Word count: Around 0.8K

CW: none fr, mentions of drinking, crying and bodily functions. Hoshi being a cornball who thinks you’re hot.

You need to piss. The combination of drinks and getting distracted by music at this party was terrible for your bladder.

You ask your friend Youngji where the bathroom is. She knows way more about this place than you do.

“Its upstairs near the left. Can’t miss it!” She practically screams.

You give her a thumbs up as you start walking up the steps. Heels were a bad option. After an eternity, You finally reach the bathroom, thank god. If you had to hold it a second longer, you would have pissed on the floor. However, as soon as you open the door, you’re met with muffled blubbering from behind the shower curtain.

Throwing caution to the wind, you open the curtain to find a handsome and drunk blonde man holding a bag of ice like a well-loved childhood plushie.

“Umm…You good?”

He sniffles and loosens his grip on the ice bag. He looks up at you with puffy eyes, unshed tears still shining.

“Yes-no..I..just-did you know most tiger cubs don’t survive their first year of life?” He cries.

What the fuck. He’s clearly gone.

“...I did not know that.” You say baffled.

“Hey, why are you in-”

“You’re so pretty.” He says glossy-eyed.

Your face goes hot.

“Thank you, but listen-” You stutter out.

“Like super pretty, like you look like Naomi Campbell mixed with Megan thee Stallion.”

High praise.

“That's very sweet of you.” You give a shy smile.

He gives a toothy smile while he blushes.

“You’re welcome, pretty lady.” He cheeses.

Ok. You’re getting off track. You still need to piss. You’ve got to get this guy out of the bathroom.

“Hey, what’s your sign?” He asks as he shifts in the tub to get more comfortable.

He treats it like a children sized bed.

“I-I’m an aquarius.” You answer puzzled.

He lets go of his bag of ice and flaps his arms while making an excited squealing noise.

“Oh my god, oh my god, that explains everything!”

Does it?

“Yknow that explains why you’re so pretty! Aquariuses’ are always so like otherworldly. Real goddess energy. OOOOHH and we’re compatible cause I’m a Gemini! Air signs for the win!” He practically yells as he stumbles to get up from the tub and give you a high five? A hug? You’re not sure. Either way, he ends up wobbling and almost falling face first out of the tub. So, in an act of quick thinking, you catch him.

“Bro, are you good?” You ask worriedly. He’s really fucking gone.

He ends up hugging you, either in an attempt to keep himself steady or to bask in your warmth. You’re not sure.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just had a little too much to drink. By the way, you smell crazy good. What perfume do you use? And your skin is so soft! What products are you using? Also, are you seeing anyone? I don’t want to be a creep, but I hate to get you in trouble and you’re really cute.”

You chuckle as you hold him. It should feel uncomfortable holding a 6-foot stranger in a small bathroom, but he makes it feel natural.

“ I can tell that much just by looking at you. First, It’s a Valentino one, I forgot the name. Second, Shea butter. Third, no.”

You feel him hold you tighter and give out a small “yay” as he nuzzles into you.

“Oh my god, you know what would slap right now?” he says as he excitedly grabs your shoulders.

“What?” You ask.

“Well, first, some chicken nuggets. God, I’m starving. DK never has any actual food in the dorms and it sucks balls. He’s still a great guy though, I’ll have to introduce you two later. Oh, I totally forgot, we’re also roomies, so, you’ve probably already seen him. Lanky dude, sharp nose, great teeth?” He rambles.

“He sounds familiar.”

You feel his hands grab your face, you feel the cold metal of his rings contrast his warm hands and your hot face.

“Yeah that’s him. Oh my god, wait, I also want an Oreo McFlurry. When does Mcdonalds close?” He asks excitedly while slowly stroking your face.

“Aren’t they open 24 hours?”

He gasps and his eyes shine. He squeals and sways you both back and forth while holding your face in his hands.

“You’re so right! Sexy, strong, and smart! The big 3 S’s! We totally need to go! Please?” He pleads.

You give a soundless laugh and nod your head. This is definitely going to be a good night.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #non idol au #idol x reader

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fruity-cryptid · 10 months

Text

Okay so, I forced my boyfriend to watch good omens with me and he decided to write some small headcanons and he was okay with me sharing some soooo yea, I also put some of my own hcs warning season 2 spoilers

Crowley:

Genderfluid / Gay / Any pronouns

Used to smoke a lot to cope but Aziraphale helped him quit, though he started to smoke again after the kiss, he also drinks a lot more to try and cope

Normally doesn't cry but after the events with Aziraphale in season 2 he cries more often and easily

Doberman type of partner

Not a huge fan of Taylor Swift but really likes the reputation album + anti-hero

Wears cropped shirts sometimes

Has bad separation anxiety

Didn't talk about his emotions much until after he met Aziraphale + he mainly talks to Aziraphale about his emotions

Repeatedly listens to The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra and cries

Would often go to spots he and Aziraphale would hang around and just think

Had a slight punk phase in the 90s

Nail biter, especially when anxious

Rants to Nina often about what happened

Wears eyeliner ( my hc)

Hated himself for kissing Aziraphale like how he did since he always wanted their kiss to be perfect but now he ruined it ( my hc)

Secretly loved Aziraphales magician costume (my hc)

The Bentley sometimes gets small yellow bits and he just leaves it (my hc)

Is very jealous of Beelzebub and Gabriel but tries to hide it (my hc)

Sees Muriel as their own child and teaches them about earth (my hc)

Aziraphale:

Agender / Gay / He/They

Huge fan of Taylor Swift, Queen, and The Cardigans

Loves baked goods and is a huge fan of baking shows

Orange cat type of partner

Loves the nickname 'Angel'

He truly loved Crowley back but doesn't' want to admit it due to deep religious trauma

Is a huge people pleaser and was bullied often in heaven

Terrible at making decisions

Eats ice cream when sad

Really regrets leaving Crowley and wants to go back

Most of his decisions made are heavily based on what he thinks Crowley would have wanted hoping somehow Crowley would find out

Very oblivious

Whenever he'd go back to earth and saw black, grey, or red things he would immediately tear up and stare at said object

Hates working in heaven since its too empty ( my hc)

Sometimes gets angels to check in on Crowley (my hc)

His personality becomes much duller in heaven ( my hc)

Hates himself for the fact he didn't kiss Crowley back (my hc)

Beelzebub:

Nonbinary / Pansexual / They/Them, Zi/Zer

Black cat type of partner

Has body dysmorphia

Dresses gender neutral, masc, and fem

Fell for Gabriel almost immediately

Listens to Everyday by Buddy Holly all the time and never gets sick of it

Loves their flies like they were their children

Can't spell for shit

Loves causing drama

Still keeps in touch with Crowley who introduced them to Muriel who quickly grew on them ( Gabriel and Beelzebub become like uncle figures to Muriel since they Crowley is like a parent to them )

Hates hugs except from Gabriel and Muriel ( sometimes )

Eventually tried food and grew a liking towards it, very frequently watched cooking shows ( my hc )

Loves nicknames and comes up with new ones for Gabriel constantly; my sweet, dear, angel, etc (my hc)

Them and Gabriel have a garden together filled with plants that attract flies and just flowers Gabriel finds pretty ( my hc )

Has anger issues ( my hc)

Gabriel:

Trans (FTM) / Gay / He/Him

Loves plushies and owns tons

Also has anger issues but Beelzebub helps him with it

Loves hot coca

Can't be trusted in a kitchen whatsoever so Beelzebub does most of the cooking

Loves cuddling and often clings to Beelzebub

Loves knitted sweaters

He and Beelzebub moved into an apartment on earth

Loves Marvel

His memory is still sometimes slightly foggy and he has trouble remembering things (my hc)

He found out he loves sleeping and takes naps often ( my hc)

Takes Beelzebub on dates often to pubs and cafes ( my hc)

Huge fan of romantics ( my hc)

Goes hot coca tasting with Muriel and Beelzebub sometimes (my hc)

Muriel:

Non Binary / Bisexual / They/Them

Really enjoys Beebadoobee, Mac Demarco, and The Neighborhood

Knits and crochets

Has trauma and is also a people pleaser

Would be shocked if people found them cool

Certain things on earth interest them that most people don't care for

Loves sweet things such as chocolate chip cookies, hot coca, and tea with absurd amounts of honey and sugar

Loves hugs

Was glad to befriend Beelzebub and sees them and like an cool uncle type figure

Becomes close with Nina and Maggie over time and often visits the coffee shop to help out ( my hc )

Somehow meets Eric the disposable demon and forms a quick friendship over how they both feel out of place ( my hc )

Adores the rain ( my hc)

Stargazes with Crowley who tells them about the different constellations (my hc)

Loves ducks like Crowley and goes with him to the park to feed ducks (my hc)

Likes painting Crowley's nails, they painted them yellow one time and it made Crowley cry bc it reminded him of when Aziraphale turned the Bentley yellow (my hc )

Loves learning about different emotions and especially loves the concept of love (my hc)

Eric The Disposable Demon (mainly my headcanons):

Demi-Boy/ Bisexual / They/He

Loves avocado toast

Loves smokey eye makeup looks

Is terrified of Crowley but also looks up to him (my hc)

Finds Muriel very pretty but doesn't feel worthy of being near them sometimes since they're so angelic and hes a demon (my hc)

They like to buy Muriel sweets anytime he visits them (my hc)

Very traumatised and is used to throwing himself towards danger (my hc)

Bonds with Muriel at the same park that Crowley and Aziraphale goes to (my hc)

Asks Crowley for advice sometimes on how to get closer to Muriel (my hc)

Nina:

Female / Lesbian / She/Her

Loves doing latte art

Makes tiktoks sometimes of herself making drinks or doing latte art, mostly to promote the cafe but also for her own enjoyment

Loves 70's and 80's music

Loves ABBA

Her ex partner made her worry over unimportant things constantly

Was sad but relieved when her ex partner broke up with her

Listens to music while cleaning

Black cat type of partner

Watched Stranger Things

Loves halloween and fall

Loves horror movies ( my hc)

Eventually warmed up to Muriel and gives them free food and drinks sometimes since they help around the cafe ( my hc)

Feeds stray cats that live near the cafe (my hc)

Maggie:

Female / Lesbian / She/Her

Loves flowers

Summer is her favourite season

Likes pop music

Golden retriever type partner

Loves sitcoms

Has crocheted stuffies

Has tons of records and plants at home

Goes to the cafe all the time to see Nina

Has a great skin care routine

Loves cats

She taught Crowley about eyeliner and helped him learn to apply it ( my hc)

She loves Muriel and teaches them about different musicians ( my hc)

Really likes Taylor Swift (my hc)

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itsmebytch001 · 10 months

Text

Do you write anything else except for yandere?

I love the yandere content but it's not quite my cup of tea. I wanted to ask if I could request something with Father!Aaron again,maybe they have an argument about Reader doing something mildly shady,coming home with bruises etc. I don't really care what the plot is,just please no yandere and comfort (at least in the end or something)

(btw I realize the first sentence doesn't really make sense so I'll elaborate. It's great content,I love the writing.While I love the plot idea I'm not a big fan of yandere,that's what I mean by it. :D)

Ask And You Shall recieve->

Summary: After a terrible hair related experemint, you now have to face...youre Dad.

You should have known not to dye your own hair, standing in Musa's the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror you saw your hair turned orange with the intention on blonde, Musa trying not to giggle covering her mouth, heaving with buried laughs.

Y/n: "What have you done to me?!"

You yelled flicking the brush at her.

Musa: "I didn't do anything! you did this to yourself!"

Y/n: "So why didn't you stop me!!"

You heard a knock on the door, Its Ayesha.

Ayesha: "You okay in there?"

Y/n: "No!"

She slowly opened the bathroom door, observing the sink with its strange red hue to see you, standing in a bath robe with an orange mop untop your head.

Ayesha: "... Ice spice?" She asked jokingly.

Y/n: "Fuck you! what the am I going to do when I get home!"

Both Musa and Ayesha broke out into booming laughter as you crumpled onto the cool tilied bathroom floor.

Ayesha: "I thought you were going blonde not Ron Weasly!"

Musa: "AAAAAhhh HAHAHA" she keeled over the bath while laughing, unable to control herself while Ayesha held onto the door frame for dear life.

Y/n: "I'm supposed to be home in an HOUR! What the hell am I going to DO!?"

Musa began to shed tears of joy and your unfortunate fate.

Ayesha: "I told you! you should have waited for Stella's she's good at this kinda thing you wait a few days she might be able to fix this!"

Y/n: "I can't hide away from my Dad for a couple of days the last time I did that he got my damm uncle involved!"

Ayesha: "the cop one"

Y/n: "Yeah, and it won't matter any way I won't have hair by the time she gets back, my Dad's gonna cut it off!!"

Musa wiped tears from her face.

Musa: "come on I think your exagreting! he wouldn't cut off your hair would he?"

...

Y/n: "I Don't know!!!" she cried out, melting down onto the floor as both Musa and Ayesha held onto each other laughing like mad men.

As the time approached for you to head back home, you and the girls where scrambling to do damege control, styling your hair in any way to make it look less bad, Dutch braids, pig tail, pony tail, French braids, fish tail, basic plat no matter what they did it looked terrible.

infact it took so long to run through all these styles, you were far out behind your cerfew.

Ding

Its youre Dad.

Oh fuck oh Fuck Oh God take me now

Musa: "You know...it's not that bad?" She said as her voice squeaked.

Y/n: "don't lie to me Musa, I look like a damm pumpkin!"

Ayesha: "Maybe if you hide it till Monday, Stella can fix it when she gets back!"

Y/n: "You think I should avoid my Dad seeing my hair for 3 days?"

Ayesha: "Sure, why not just stay in your room, it was a lock dosen't it?"

Y/n: "Ayesha, if I locked by Dad out my room he would kick it down"

Ayesha: "Then just wear hoodies all the time"

Musa: "I think he'll still notice the red hair poking though"

Ayesha: "Yeaaaaaahh it's bad"

Y/n: "I hate you both so much"

As you were taking yourself out the house and at the door, Ayesha hanged back in the hall with Musa, waving you off.

Ayesha: "If don't seen you Monday we'll file you a missing person report!!!" She yelled while smiling as you walked down the street your hoodie wrapped tight round your head, not wanting the world to see this monsterousity.

18:11

As you stood outside your front door, you could hear the TV on, so you must assume Aaron is waiting for you, waiting to scould you for being so late, for walking home alone or for your hair.

God please don't let him see my hair

As you crept into the the living room, you heard a beckon call.

Aaron: "Ay, Y/n, why are you so late huh?"

Think of a lie, think of a good lie

Y/n: "Musa's Dad was having one of his melt down and I didn't want to leave her"

Aaron: "Oh damm, is she okay? Should I pull out the couch for her to crash on?"

Y/n: "Oh no, It's taken care of, and Ayesha's sleeping over at hers so she should be alright"

Aaron: "okay. what you wearing that hoodie for? it's warm inside"

Y/n: "Its just comfortable Dad"

Aaron: "m'kay, anyways I don't really feel like cooking, how about take out?"

Y/n: "Sure Dad" you say dissmissvly as you head off for your room.

Aaron pulled out his phone.

Aaron: "What do you feel like then, we got Korean, chinses, jamican, mexi-"

Y/n: "anything is fine"

Aaron: "...is everything okay?"

Y/n: " yeah I'm good just need to sleep"

Aaron: "It's 6pm?"

Y/n: "yeah I'm tired"

Aaron: " is this about Musa? If she needs to come over it's totally cool"

Y/n: "No, Musa's okay I just want to go to my room and die in my bed"

Aaron: "die in youre bed now? You sure you okay?"

Y/n: "Yes Really I'm fine" You said as you rushed over to your room.

You felt your Dad's hand on youre shoulder, pulling you back.

Aaron: "How bad was it? Musa's Dad?"

Ugh, why must your Dad make you feel so terrible

Aaron: "Should go pick her up?"

Ughhhhhhhhhhhh whyyyyyyyyyyyy

Y/n: "Dad-"

Aaron: "is it like last time? should I call Uncle Jeff?"

Y/n: "Dad-"

Aaron: "I can make room for Ayesha too if she need's to stay"

Y/n: "DAD!"

...

You pull back your hoodie revaling your redish hair. Aaron is confused, your once lovley black hair was now frazzed and ginger.

Aaron: "What the hell happend to your hair?"

Y/n: "I-"

Aaron: "You look like Bob ross"

Y/n: "Excuse me?"

Aaron: "oh dear god, did you try and dye your hair?"

Y/n: "Maybe"

Aaron: "And you did it at Musa's?"

Y/n: "Yeah"

Aaron: "Did Musa do this to you?"

Y/n: "Noooooo I did" You asked wincing, ready to be scoulded for such a silly endevour.

Aaron: "....okay" he huffed.

Aaron went to get his jacket and grabbed his keys.

Y/n: "Lets go get you something to fix...that" He gestured to your hair.

Later, while in the beauty shop youre Dad led you down into the hair care isle.

Aaron: "What were you trying to do anyways?"

Y/n: "I was trying to go blonde"

Aaron: "Ah I see"

He picked out a box of black hair dye.

Aaron: "So you went over to Musa's house to secretly dye your hair, and you thought you could just come home, blonde, and I wouldn't notice?"

Y/n: "No, I just thought You'd accept it...eventually"

Aaron: "uh huh"

He places the dye in the basket.

Aaron: "You need anything before we go?"

Y/n: "Uhh No I'm good"

As you and youre Dad walked out the store, bag in hand he stopped you walking and pointed over to the new local Korean place.

Aaron: "You wanna get some barbeque?"

Y/n: "Sure"

Once you and your Dad got home, he unwrapped the take out and made you a plate.

Aaron: "We'll take care of your hair tmorrow, m'kay?" He said, sitting down next to you on the sofa.

Y/n: "Yeah that sounds good"

Aaron: "What you said about Musa, that true?"

Y/n: "...no"

Aaron: "So you lied about Musa's Dad have a melt down, too what end?"

Y/n: "I just wanted to get you off my back before you saw my hair"

Aaron: "...Don't be lying to be about that kinda thing, it's to serious m'kay? If Musa need's to stay, that's fine but don't be making stuff up"

Y/n: "yeah, I know I'm sorry"

Aaron: "You know who you look like?"

Y/n: "who?"

Aaron: "That new rap girl, ginger lady"

Y/n: "...I hate you"Dad

#submission #yandere morales family #aaron davis x reader #uncle aaron #yandere spiderverse #rio morales #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #Dad aaron davis #Morales family #Dad Aaron Davis #platonic yandere

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is-emily-real · 5 months

Text

resolutions

The den was warm, the smell of cinnamon and wine drifting from their mugs as they spoke. It was that liminal space between Christmas and New Year’s, that time when the days seemed to pass like hours and years simultaneously.

Their number was quite diminished, what with Robin and Argyle visiting family out of state and Eddie dutifully DMing a campaign for the kids while he had the time. Chrissy thought being fourth-wheel to two guys and the girl they used to date would have its oddities, but the atmosphere had stayed surprisingly pleasant.

“You all have any resolutions for 1987?” Nancy asked, cuddling her mug. The alcohol brought a pretty flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. She got why the boys fell in love with her.

It was an innocuous question, but it made her lose herself in thought, half listening to Steve and Jonathan as they discussed the concept.

She’d never had any before. They were always prescribed to her, handed down like jail sentences by her mother and rigorously enforced. Study more, look pretty, lose ten pounds, twenty, thirty, more and more and more until she felt like a shell of herself, barely able to stave off a headache at the slightest stressor.

Then, all of a sudden, the night terrors started, and she thought it was just Jason being sweet when he asked her to talk to the counselor, wrapped her in his letterman jacket and prayed over her, but it helped a little.

After a few days, the comments started, backhand statements about how terrible it was she was so fatigued, how much it was stressing him out, how she should already be better and was she sure she was trying enough? But he was always doting in front of her friends, the picture of a perfect gentleman when others could see.

When Eddie offered her something that could make her sleep, she jumped at the chance, surprised to learn he genuinely wanted to soothe her worries. He was a point of hope, a soft heart in a hard world despite his spiky exterior.

She hadn’t expected hell in the place of help.

That thing took her, spun her like a top, snared her in those awful vines and made her watch as he tortured the others, as he destroyed her home, as children stepped up to keep him at bay. They were so brave, all of them, and they got cut to shreds for it.

But the girl, El, came, and the bonds burned Chrissy’s skin until the red sky overhead faded to black, and when they turned to ice, she swore the sleep deprivation wasn’t that bad.

Gentle hands lifted her, pulled her back into a reality she could understand, held her close until she was free of the shadows. She came to in her aunt’s bed with only swirling pink scars to confirm her story.

She idly traced one along her arm. Did she have any resolutions beyond preventing the coming year from being as bad as the last? Was there more to life after the worst of it was over?

“I’m just saying, the question’s a bit disingenuous,” Jonathan said. “It’s like asking what part of someone they hate most.”

Nancy scoffed. “It is not.”

“Is too! You either have a stupid answer or an honest one, and the honest answers just make you feel worse in two weeks when you give up.”

“Everyone’s got an idea of who they should be,” Steve commented. “I don’t think any answer’s stupid.”

“Be real, how would you feel if my resolution was to smoke more?”

“I’d be fine with it as long as you shared.”

Chrissy couldn’t help her chuckle. “Your boyfriend’s a drug dealer. You don’t have enough?”

“Hey, he’s a former drug dealer, thank you. Besides, no getting high on your own supply.”

Nancy slapped her knee. “Alright, Mr. Philosopher, since you don’t think they’re stupid, what’s yours?”

He thought for a second. “I want to get my own place.”

“That’s what you’re doing with your hush money?”

“If the government put me at risk of demo-rabies, they can buy me a house to make up for it.”

“Please never say that in front of Robin.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid, Nance.”

Chrissy caught the little twitch in Jonathan’s lips. She’d keep that to herself. No need to hurt Steve’s pride.

“I’m going to take an actual vacation this year.” Nancy snuggled deeper into her blanket. “Somewhere warm and sunny and not ready to kill me at any given moment.”

“You would love California,” Jonathan offered. “Come visit me and Argyle this summer.”

“Only if you give me an actual resolution,” she teased.

“Ah, well, Florida it is, then.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before turning her inquisitive gaze on Chrissy. “What’s yours?”

Chrissy took a breath, took in the shimmer of her eye, the soft smile on Jonathan’s lips, the weight of Steve’s arm slung across the back of the couch. She wanted this, as much of it as she could get. She’d never had it before, not when she was trying to be someone she wasn’t.

“I think I want to finally be Chrissy this year.” She let her lips curl around the words, felt the depth seep into her skin and settle in among her scars. She’d live how she wanted, not how Vecna or Jason or her mom or anyone said she should.

Her favorite cousin wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “That’d be a good look on you.”

@thefreakandthehair for the prompt resolutions from the Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge

#spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge #i like to call this group the bi squad #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #delayed due to illness #but i think more character studies of chrissy are in order #she's so compelling for only one episode of screen time and its a crime we didnt get more #stranger things s4

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mousy-nona · 3 months

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All of God's Angels p. 3/5

I think you will like His newest creation, Gabriel mused. I’ve foreseen a challenge for you. An equal. A partner, tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red. // Or Lucifer tries to save a life, and ends up making a deal instead.

All parts up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53800450/chapters/136173307

Contrary to popular belief, Lucifer hadn’t always hated humans. Truth be told, he still didn’t. He was disappointed in their bloody, chaotic, meaningless choices, but he didn’t think they were all bad.

Humans fought. They felt. They changed. They dreamed. Angels, on the other hand, were like static figurines, perfect from inception, nothing but boring old tools meant to forge the Father’s holy vision.

Was it little wonder why he was so drawn to Alastor? On the outside, the demon was everything he despised about humanity. He was cruel and sadistic to the extreme, selfish and cutthroat. Hell had been made to contain sinners like him. He was exactly why Lucifer regretted setting Eve free — the embodiment of greed and pride and pain for the sake of pain.

But he was also everything Lucifer loved about humans. The ingenuity. The ambition. He could sing like the goddamn stars and whip out a sonnet or two after. He was genteel and sophisticated, with a quick wit and a silver tongue sharp enough to cut the Devil. And he was already starting to change – not a lot, not at his core, but the gentle atmosphere of the hotel and Charlie’s endless optimism were softening his hard edges.

A monster and a gentleman. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, for the price of one. Had there ever been a more fascinating man?

He could not die. He could not die. Not now, not when Lucifer had just found him.

But oh, Death was close. Lucifer could feel his scythe trembling nearby, ready to swing. This injury…even in the dim light of the fireflies, he could see it ran to the very heart of Alastor. Literally. His chest gaped open where Adam’s blast had run him through, exposing him down to his very bones and his twitching cardiac muscles. An inch to the left, and he would have never walked away from the battle. An open heart, flayed open for all the world to see!

Good Lord, the strength it must have taken to walk around as if nothing was wrong. Lucifer shuddered, blanching at the mere thought. If their positions had been reversed, would he be able to do such a thing?

(No. He wouldn’t.)

“This isn’t a freak show, my good fellow,” his radio static came from the darkness, somehow, impossibly, still measured and even. “If you’ve got an opinion, now’s the time to share it.”

“Y-y-you–” Lucifer shook his head, annoyed at the stutter. How was he the one showing weakness when Alastor was laid up in bed with his chest carved in half? “It hasssn’t healed at all!”

He stopped abruptly at the hiss and felt his tongue. It was forked. What the Hell? Slowly, he reached up and felt his head…where twin horns protruded from under his hat.

He’d transformed? When?

With an effort, he managed to shrink himself back to his normal shape, puzzled at his complete lack of control. That kind of behavior was unlike him.

“I assumed that’s what you were here for,” came the exasperated reply. “Considering angelic power is your area of expertise, not mine.”

“I’ll need to come closer–”

“No need. You can see perfectly fine from where you are.”

“I can’t help you if I can’t see!” Lucifer snapped.

“Then leave.”

Static and green symbols flashed across the room. The muggy warmth of the bayou turned ice cold as a surge of shadow swept the door open. It banged mournfully on its hinges, letting out a ghostly wail of protest.

Lucifer straightened, feeling his own fire flicker in response. “Do you really want to die so badly? Why are you being so goddamn stubborn?”

“Why. Are. You?”

Twin radio dials lit up the far corner with a hellish red beam. Lucifer could see Alastor’s face in full for the first time – and it scared him.

He wasn’t scared for Alastor. He was scared for himself.

Alastor was grinning. It was the smile of the void, the smile of the shadow and the dark and the monster beneath your bed a second before they struck. It was the smile of a Dealmaker, right before they revealed their hand. Somehow, impossibly, it was Alastor that held all the cards – even though it was Alastor who was knocking on Death’s door.

How? How the Hell was he doing it?

And maybe something was deeply wrong with Lucifer, but he found himself leaning forward, a shock of affection washing over his long-dead heart. This was what it meant to be human. This is why he gave Eve the apple.

All that potential. Finally realized.

Then Alastor said it. Those famous last words. “Let’s make a deal, shall we?”

Lucifer gulped, his heart beating double time. He was sure Alastor could hear it. “A deal? For my soul?” He was torn between laughing incredulously at Alastor’s sheer gall and fighting the urge to finish the job Adam had started. Did he even have a soul to give?

(Why was he even considering it?)

“Why no! Why must everyone jump to such severe conclusions?” The fucker sounded downright jolly. “Just a gentleman’s agreement, that’s all. A promise for a promise. No souls involved!”

“And why should I agree to that? I’m trying to help you.”

“Yes, that’s true. But you seem rather…insistent on this healing business. And while I must admit I’m in a hurry to, ah, be whole again – I’m in no hurry to do it your way!”

Lucifer gaped. “You must be joking. You’re bleeding out in front of me!”

“A small miscalculation. I’ve gotten out of worse scrapes before, I assure you.”

Was he bluffing? Was he serious? Try as he might, Lucifer couldn’t get a read on him. Alastor was like this – always half-there, a shadow that flitted away every time he tried to get close, defying reason, defying explanation.

Would he really risk death – just to one up him?

Lucifer didn’t know. And Jesus flipping Christ , why did that excite him so much?

There was no reason for him to play the Radio Demon’s games. He could leave. He could leave right now and he opened his mouth to tell that smug, no-good asshole exactly that –

But what came out of his mouth was, “What kind of a deal?”

The air turned hot and sticky. Shadows swirled around him, barely-there faces licking their chops in anticipation. Alastor’s voice seemed to grow and deepen, his presence so thick it was a wonder Lucifer didn’t choke on it. “Like I said before, just a promise. You get to heal me, and I – well, I haven’t quite decided what I’d like to receive in return.” His smile was neon green and eager. “Perhaps you’ll take a carte blanche?”

The bastard wanted a blank check to cash in on a rainy day. That was dangerous. Lucifer would basically be handing him the keys to the castle. He couldn’t agree to this.

“There must be something you want,” he tried to reason with the beast. “Power? Wealth? Your enemies destroyed, in a matter of seconds?”

But Alastor, that black-hearted creature of the deep, shook his head. “My bargain, my terms, your Majesty . What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

He should leave. He needed to leave . But he could still hear Alastor’s lifeblood drip drip dripping away on the floorboards – see every beat of the man’s heart pulse against the muggy bayou air – sense Alastor’s power ebbing at the edges, being spun away into nothingness that even his jovial facade couldn’t hide…

Alastor had upped the stakes with his life. And Lucifer wasn’t quite willing to take that wager.

“On one condition. I choose the method of healing. You aren’t allowed to fight me on it.”

Alastor pondered those terms for a minute, then held out his hand.

“We have a deal.”

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #appleradio #lucifer x alastor #alastor x lucifer #duckiedeer #radio demon #platonic romance

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blossoming-sun · 3 months

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So.... I made some pj mask AUs based off the prompt/trope people on pjmcord gave me (school au, angels and demons au, fae au)

School AU:

Premise: I know you probably meant just a normal school AU, but I'm actually incapable of writing something without fantasy elements, so its a school au: but they all still have their powers. In this au, the government knows about monsters and magic and stuff, and although the general population doesn't know about them, its not exactly "keep secret at all costs" information. So that nobody dies when the magical kids are too young to fully control their magic, they're kept seperated from ordinary kids in the education system until a certain age. So basically all the nighttime kids are in a class, and teacher is a new, human, teacher fresh out of uni and teaching his first class. These kids are a nightmare for him (/pos) and he struggles not to be killed every night.

Other stuff: There is a lot of drama between the villains and heroes, especially at lunch break. The main friend groups are the terrible trio and the pj trio, but the other characters have friend groups as well, and its not uncommon for everyone to just play nicely as one big group some nights and then all hate each other the next. The sidekicks do exist in this AU, but they're not allowed in the classroom because they're not students. This does not stop any of them: the ninjalinos sneak in to play with night ninja at break, Romeo is always making a machine of some sort, its very hard to keep moths out of the outdoor playground, octobella hides Percival in her bag, etc. The whole au would probably just be teacher being like: "Apophis, I'll put you in detention until the end of time if you try to trap bastet in a pyramid again!" "Kevin, don't put that in your mouth! No, I don't care what Howler dared you do to!" "Romeo, what did I say about stealing stuff from the maintenance room? You can't take over the world with the wifi router!"

Also, the heroes are monsters in this au, so owlette is a harpy, an yu has more dragon features, etc

Angels and Demons AU

Lore: Angels and demons usually hide which one they are, their wings and stuff can dissapear at will and they don't have to use their powers. Furthermore, its a contemporary!angels and demons au, so while everyone has angel or demon blood, some have the full features (horns, slitted pupils, angel wings, halos, etc) when they show their true forms, others merely contain some angel or demon blood and no affects from this (which is most common). There are also powers, which can be pretty much anything. Physical features aren't required to have powers, but they're usually hand in hand.

Other stuff: Amaya is the only one with wings and a few extra eyes, while connor has a halo, and greg has a few small feathers (not enough to fly with or form wings), but has the power of strength. The villains are all demons. Luna has wings, NN has horns (like an oni) and romeo hasn't shown his true form yet. However, Armadylan and An Yu are also demons! The PJs didn't trust armadylan at all at first because they're racist you can't trust demons, but after they met an yu, realised that maybe not all demons are bad and didn't choose to be like this. Also: pharaoh boy is a fallen angel, but bastet refuses to talk about what happened to make him lose his light. The rest of the power heroes are all angels. And for the characters I haven't talked about yet:

Wolfies: no features or powers, except their werewolf powers(werewolf blood dominated the demon genes)

Armadylan: 4 horns on his head that stick out from his helmet, as well as a tail beneath the armadillo tail on his suit. Canon powers

An Yu: Black and red scales, slitted red eyes, fangs, claws. Canon powers

Ice Cub: Has three halos, no powers until his exposure to the asteroid though

Newton: two sets of wings, four eyes (haha), canon powers

Speedy twins: demon tails

Bastet: small wings behind her ears

Octobella: gekko swears she's a demon, but she's not (she's a cecaelia)

feel feee to ask me about the other characters, i was too lazy to write them all (rip)

Fae AU

So, in this AU lilyfay is the only fae. She's from an alien race of space fae, idk. The problem is, she's the first of her kind to visit earth in hundreds of years, and nobody really remembers the rules of the fay anymore, or that they exist. Which means that there are many shenanigans.

Lilyfay loves to clean, but unfortunately power Q is already pretty clean because of PJ robot, so except for when gloop attacks, she needs to find other places to clean. She occasionally just shows up at the flying factory to clean it (romeo is not good at keeping his lab tidy). And Romeo freaked out the first time but he got intrigued after that. When Romeo disrespected her the first time she refused to take that shit and turned him into a fawn (fae will sometimes transform humans into creatures if they don't like them), but only for one night so that he would learn his lesson. After this, Romeo takes up some of the Creideamh Sí so that he won't get deer'd again, which starts with giving Lilyfay milk when she shows up and progresses to the two of them having tea parties together. The duo kind of become friends, but lilyfay will not hesitate to kick his ass if he lies to her or offends her in some other way. Nobody else knows about their secret.

Lilyfay also has a garden in power Q, that has a ton of hawthorn saplings among other things. She and An Yu tend to the garden, but An Yu isn't allowed to touch the hawthorn. Lilyfay would love to drag the gang back to the land of the fay, but she's enjoying earth a lot and figures that she'll stay, for now at least. Also, her true fae form is hidden behind a human disguise (I don't think that lilyfay would be a changeling, but i'm going to incorporate some elements of changelings in for funsies) she can also play instruments and loves to dance, but she and her friends only ever play just dance and take turns so that she doesn't have to (by law) drag them away forever.

#pj masks #pj masks au #not tagging all of these characters bro #also my posts haven't been showing up in the pjm tag for a while so #hopefully people see this

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bluejay-flies · 5 months

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This is probably going to come as a surprise to a lot of you, but I’ve decided to try half writing half drawing the next part. ( I was inspired by @loupy-mongoose do do this!)

Drawing everything has taken a serious toll on me, I enjoy it but I find myself getting burnt out after each part is finished. So we’ll just see how this goes! I might love it, I might hate it, we’ll just have to see.

First

The small Mewtwo and the strange human sat and stared at the other in shock. Iris’s eyes flicked from the bright green ones of the human in front of her and the darker green of it’s Pokémon companion’s. Her body felt frozen, and she struggled to inhale the frosty air as her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. “O-oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

The stranger fumbled it’s words, mouth still agape at the strange Pokemon lying in front of it. Iris was still frozen on the ground, throat tight and chest heaving.

“I-”

WHEEZE-

“D-don’t-”

HGHHH-

Her words kept coming out half formed, and her chest convulsed in an attempt to get the oxygen she so desperately needed. A wave of terror crashed over her, sending her spiraling. She didn’t know what was happening- why was her body reacting like this? Her chest hurt, and despite the chilly weather her skin dripped with sweat.

The human was staring, staring right at her and she knew it was going to kill her, trap her, steal her away and never let her go. For a moment the world disappeared, and she was back in that room, that polished, cold room surrounded by white robed figures…

NO!!!

All of the fear, pain, and panic swirled together, condensing into a tight ball of terror in her chest that filled her body with only one need, a desperate need-

To escape

“AAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

A scream burst out of her as the energy swirling within seemed to erupt out of her chest. With a final push of power, she teleported.

Iris opened her eyes.

She was surrounded by white, crystal leaves.

Her feet rested on a slick brown surface coated in ice, and she reflexively grabbed for something to hold onto. Her hands found the trunk and she clung to it.

She was in a tree, not too high above the ground but high enough to make her feel dizzy. She shut her eyes tight, taking a moment to let herself feel the relief of escape.

“…are you ok up there?”

She froze.

The voice came again.

“I’m sorry if I scared you. I just haven’t ever seen a Pokémon like you before, s-so I was a little startled.”

Crap. Crap crap crap.

She had teleported a mere 10 feet away, and was up in the high boughs of a tree easily in sight of the human.

“G-go away!”

“D-don’t h-hurt me!”

Iris choked out the words, voice and body shaking violently as she clung onto the trunk for support.

The human carefully stood up and brushed the snow off of its pants. It picked up it’s Pokémon and brushed the snow off of them, too.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’d feel terrible if I did! Do you need help getting down?”

Iris hesitated.

She was still scared and shaking, but…

She was also a little curious. Sure, humans were bad, but she’d never actually talked with one before. The only stories she knew were what Aunt Mimi told her, and her memories were very fuzzy.

Auntie said humans were dangerous… but this one seemed different somehow. Less… scary.

Besides, it had promised not to hurt her. And promises were important to humans. At least, she thought so.

“N-no, I can get down ok…”

The human’s eyes widened.

“So you CAN talk… I thought I was imagining it before!”

Slipping and sliding, the little Mewtwo half climbed, half fell down the tree, landing with a thump on the snowy white ground. The two surveyed each other, taking a moment to assess the situation. Iris clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering, hands stiff by her side to keep them still. Calm. DOWN.

She took a couple of deep breaths before returning the human’s gaze.

The human was rather short, about half the height of her Dad (she felt a pang of sorrow at that, but it had a thicker build with broader shoulders and waist.

Suddenly the human moved, walking closer with eyes wide with wonder. Iris jumped back, fur puffed up in surprise and fear. The human didn't seem to notice as it continued it’s thorough examination of her.

"If you don’t mind, can I ask what you are? You're like no Pokémon I’ve ever seen, and I've seen a bunch before!”

“U-uhm, I don’t… really feel ok with that…”

Iris stammered out hee response, still wary of this new presence. As curious as she was, she wasn’t about to give the human any reason to hurt her.

“That’s ok! You don’t need to answer if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

The human stuck out it’s hand in some strange gesture Iris didn’t know.

“I’m Rose! Nice to meet you.”

Iris stared at the hand for a moment before taking another cautious step back.

“Uh… Iris. Nice to… meet you too?”

Hope you guys enjoyed the change of pace!

First

#mewtwo #pokemon #my art #artists on tumblr #mewtwo ask blog #mewtwo oc #digital art #Mewtwo comic #comic #mewtwo story #Writing #art

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themaladaptivewriter12 · 3 months

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Title: Valentine's Promise

Might add a part two, a sm*t, haven't decided

Pairings: Cater Diamond x Twisted Wonderland Male OC (Mirai Yuhara)

Summary:

“Mirai?” Cater whispered. “Huh?” Mirai answered, reluctant to take his eyes off the city. “Jasper.” Mirai’s head snapped away from the scenery for a second to see Cater holding a small red velvet box. Mirai froze, his heart stopping, his blood feeling as if ice was shot through his veins. He didn’t know what to do, but to sit there like a deer in headlights.

Notes:

cw: Nothing but fluff.

This was a little thing I wanted to post for Valentine's, albeit 3 days late, and it kinda delves into a little bit of the "after story" I've been conjuring up for Mimi and Cater. Hope you enjoy!

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

Cater sighed once more before stretching his arms above his head, grunting softly as his back popped in multiple places, the tension from slouching over his desk all day lessening. Today felt like the worst, time felt as if it had been slowed with how excited Cater was, but now that it was finally over, and that excitement hadn’t waned a bit. From the moment he had woken up, Cater had been so giddy that he couldn’t focus. He had messed up during his debriefing, ran into the vending machines because he was on his phone, and he accidentally misspelled their client’s name on their webpage. #Unprofessional.

The moment the last meeting of the day was adjourned, Cater sighed with relief, slouching in his chair. This month so far has been super busy with the amount of clients who wanted their advertisements up today, potential clients whose appointments were scheduled all throughout the week with notes that needed to be looked over, and various websites to be updated. They definitely weren’t out of the woods yet, but that was the life of someone who worked in the Social Media and Marketing Department.

But today was special, and it had the entire building buzzing. Pink, red, and white hearts decorated the office, the women of the office wore their pretty pinks and luscious reds, pretty bouquets and boxes of chocolates dotted the desks, the guys wore their best dress shirts, and the older men adorned their themed ties hand picked by their wives that morning. Today was Valentine's Day and Cater knew this one was going to be special.

Cater made his way to his desk from their roundtable when an arm wrapped its way around his shoulders, startling him.

“So,” the voice said.

Cater whipped his head around and was met with a mop of brown hair and brown eyes. It was Lucas, of course it was Lucas. The twenty-five year old was Cater’s senior by a year, and terribly nosey.

“So?” Cater asked.

“Penelope, she’s pretty cute right?”

“Not this again,” Cater sighed, moving out of his grasp to walk a bit faster.

“Oh, c’mon dude,” Lucas sighed, rushing after him, “You two would make a great couple!”

“And I keep telling you I’m seeing someone.”

“You mean his fake girlfriend,” Fabian joked, matching their stride.

Fabian, a twenty-two year old blonde with a knack for unintentionally offending people with his words. Cater wouldn’t lie, he didn’t like the guy when Fabian first came to their department, but after they got to know each other, and eventually sat in the same quad, he learned that Fabian wasn’t a bad person, just a little hard with his words.

“Mimi is not fake,” Cater huffed, moving to clean up his desk.

“C’mon dude, you can’t blame me,” Fabian reasoned, from his side of their shared desk, “Every time I mention your girlfriend you get all defensive, and the last time I asked for a picture, you wouldn’t show me.”

“Maybe she’s shy?” Brain offered from his desk.

Brian was the best behaved out of their quad. He hated confrontation, and tended to keep to himself, but when the time arose, the twenty-four year old would stick his neck out for anyone without a second thought.

“Or imaginary,” Fabian muttered.

Cater rolled his eyes, making for his hasty retreat, when suddenly his phone vibrated and like his life depended on it, Cater snatched his phone from his desk, unlocking the device. Fabian and Lucas rushed over to try and peek at the message, which Cater promptly pulled out of sight.

“He’s practically been glued to his phone the whole day,” a soft voice chided. “I knew he loved the thing, but today was something else entirely.”

“Sup, Tif,” Lucas greeted, looking up from his attempt to get a glimpse of Cater’s phone.

“Hey guys,” Tiffany smiled.

Tiffany, better known as Tif throughout the building, was part of the Marketing Department. The twenty-five year old and her team often worked with Cater and his quad, like today.

“Hey, Tif,” Cater smiled.

“Going home so soon?” Tiffany asked.

“Yeah,” Cater sighed with a dopey smile, “I got plans and I don’t wanna be late.”

“Plans?” a sweet feminine asked, “That’s nice to hear.”

“Penelope,” Lucas cheered, “How was work?”

“It was an easy day,” Penelope smiled, playing with the petals to a bouquet of flowers.

Penelope, the office sweetheart and most eligible bachelorette, was the floor’s secretary. Cater couldn’t remember a time when Lucas wasn’t trying to set him up with the twenty-five year old, or a time the guys of the building treated her like a princess. Don’t get him wrong, Cater liked Penelope, but just not like that.

“Oh, nice flowers. Who’s the sender?” Fabian asked.

“My mom,” Penelope laughed awkwardly, “She always sends them on Valentine's Day.”

“That’s cute,” Tiffany smiled.

“Aw,” a deeper feminine voice sighed, “I wish my mom did that.”

“Hey, Brooke,” Brian smiled, “how was accounting?”

Brooke was head of accounting, and like a mother figure to the younger workers on the floor. Anytime you needed something, Mama Brooke was on the case, the twenty-nine year old taking her title with stride.

“Same as always,” Brooke said dismissively. “What I wanna know is what was so important that you couldn’t pay attention during today’s roundtable, Cater?”

Cater laughed awkwardly, “Sorry, Brooke. I’ll admit, I was a bit distracted today.”

“I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day,” Brooke smirked, “you just got distracted by some really nice pictures from your girl.”

Cater flushed to the tips of his ears,” I-It’s not like t-that!”

Brooke laughed, “So, does anyone have any plans for tonight? My husband and I are going to that really fancy restaurant on 5th street.”

“Me and my hubby are gonna go see a movie,” Cecelia said excitedly.

“Me and my girlfriend are gonna stay in and make dinner,” Fabian said.

“Jesse and I are gonna go to a drive-in movie,” Brian smiled.

“That’s cute,” Cecelia whined, “We should've done that instead.”

As the group spoke of their evening plans, Cater’s phone vibrated again, and he was on it like a moth to a flame.

“Mimi’s here,” Cater gasped, suddenly rushing to get his things.

“Mimi?” Cecilia asked.

“His fake girlfriend,” Fabian teased from his seat across from Lucas.

“Whatever,” Cater laughed with a scoff, putting the last of his things in his bag.

“It’s okay man, we’ve all been dumped before,” Fabian said, “You don’t have to keep up this charade any longer.”

Cater rolled his eyes, getting the last of his things.

“Leave him alone, guys.” Brooke huffed, “Cater, I’m sure your girlfriend is very nice.”

“Thanks Mama Brooke. See ya,” Cater called, practically running to get to the elevators.

“Oh, I gotta see this,” Fabian said, rushing to follow Cater.

“I’m coming too,” Lucas exclaimed, shooting from his seat.

The group followed closely behind Cater as he weaved his way through the desks, quads, and cubicles, trying not to lose that head of bright orange hair in the crowds of people making their ways home.

The Cater and his unappointed followers passed by one of the quads when a pair of gold eyes spotted them. “Where are you guys going?”

“Hey, Maddox,” Lucus shouted, “You’re gonna finally see Cater’s girlfriend!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Cater rolled his eyes affectionately. Maddox was one of the seniors of the department at thirty-six years old, he was one of the guys who trained Cater when he first joined, and became a big brother of sorts. Whenever Cater needed something, whatever it might be, Maddox had his back.

All of them shoved their way into the elevator, pressing the button to the ground floor. The ride from the eighth floor was a long one, and every time they stopped on a floor, they got curious looks as there wasn’t a lick of room for anymore people.

Once they stopped at the third floor, Keith gave them all weird looks, as he was trying to use the elevator as well.

“Keith,” Cecelia waved, “we’re gonna see Cater’s girlfriend.”

Keith worked in IT, the twenty-six year old always hanging on the eighth floor when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Ima take the stairs and meet you guys down there,” Keith said, before he rushed to the opposite side of the room to the stairwell.

“Guys,” Cater whined as the doors shut once more.

Downstairs, Mirai stood awkwardly next to a gaggle of women. He felt so out of place standing next to all of them in their cutesy skirts and frilly dresses, even their hair was curled and or pressed. And how could he forget their polished nails on dainty hands that held their teddy bears, roses, and chocolates.

Then there, sticking out like a sore thumb, he was, a man all dolled up with a bouquet of flowers of his own. Mirai couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy at their flawless beauty. Why couldn’t he look that pretty like them with their soft skin and long eyelashes? Maybe he should have worn a skirt instead?

Mirai sighed, shaking his head to somehow shake the thought away. He was fine, this was fine. He dressed up too in his suit and black and red rose pattern mesh button up. He had spent hours trying to perfect his eyeliner, and once he did, he chose pink eyeshadow that went perfectly with his flushed cheeks and pink lipgloss. He knew it did, because he had called Crewel before he left and he said so.

Instead of a teddy bear, well, he did actually get a teddy bear, but it was with the soap set that came with bath bombs, face masks, lotions and oils, which was at Cater’s apartment, sitting on the living room coffee table. And as for chocolates, Cater hated sweets, so he improvised with dark chili chocolates for him to try and if that failed, Mirai got a fruit and cheese platter, which was also sitting in Cater’s apartment, chilling in his refrigerator of course. Fiddling with the petals of his bouquet of roses, wondering if it all was too much.

And on a side note, Mirai really thought he would be late with how much of a hassle it was to get into the building itself. The guy at the gate gave him a hard time, and it wasn’t until Cater’s father had to explain that he was with him did the man let him in. After that, Mirai and Mr. Diamond had split ways in the lobby, the older man having something important to take care of, leaving Mirai in the lobby, which led him to his current problem. The woman at the front desk.

The woman gave him such a hard time for a while, questioning how he got past security, why he was there, and who for. Mirai argued with her for a good while, telling her that he was picking his lover up, just like everyone else and that yes, his visitor’s pass was valid. Mirai didn’t understand, all of the misses were here, so why couldn't he be? Mr. Diamond said it was okay, so what was so bad about him being here?

She had finally stopped when one of the women stepped in, asking her why she was so adamant on trying to get Mirai to leave. And now said front desk woman, with the name tag that read “Mara,” was giving him the stank eye as she tapped away on her desktop computer. Mirai just hopped Cater or Mr. Diamond came back soon.

“So what do you and your boy have planned?” the woman from earlier asked.

Mirai startled a bit, not expecting her to ask him that, or anything for that matter, “I-I, h-how did you-”

“Oh please, Honey, no man makes himself look that pretty for a woman unless one of them swings the other way,” the woman laughed. “Also, I may not be the straightest woman here.”

“O-Oh,” Mirai chuckled nervously, “I tried my best. Uh, do you think it’s too much?”

“Not at all, hon, you look stunning,” she smiled. “You make me feel like I should have stepped up my game this morning, but then again, my Georgiana doesn’t like that shmancy stuff.”

“Don’t, don’t sell yourself short. To be honest, I was a little jealous at how pretty you guys were compared to me.”

“Please, you’re the best dressed out of everyone here.”

“Thanks,” Mirai muttered, flushing a pretty pink.

“You’re welcome,” the woman smiled, “I’m Xola by the way.”

“Mirai.”

A chime sounded through the lobby and immediately everyone perked up at the sound, their eyes honing in on elevators.

“Good luck,” Xola smiled.

“Back atcha,” Mirail nodded.

The elevator doors opened and Cater scanned the lobby, looking for the familiar blonde wolf cut and silver prosthetic. It didn’t take long for Cater to spot a constellation of freckles on rosy cheeks and eyes as bright as the stars.

“Mimi,” Cater gasped, running across the lobby.

“Cater,” Mirai shouted, matching Cater’s enthusiasm as he met the strawberry blonde halfway, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.

Cater pulled back just enough to smash his lips into Mirai’s in a deep kiss, his hand reaching up the cradle the back of Mirai’s head, his fingers musing through his gelled tresses. Mirai sighed against Cater’s lips, his eyes closing in bliss. If his hands weren’t so full, Mirai knew his hands would be bunched up in Cater’s blazer by now.

Cater finally pulled back after he had enough, the biggest grin on his face. “Hey Babydoll,” Cater muttered affectionately, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Mirai chuckled. “Sorry I wasn’t able to come down for your Birthday. I could only get three days off.”

“I don’t care about that. You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

“It does though,” Mirai whined, “ It was your twenty-fourth Birthday.”

“And you can make it up to me by coming to see me for your twenty-third. Now, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Mirai smiled, wriggling out of Cater’s grasp to hand his gifts.

“Mimi,” Cater gushed, “thank you, baby. And don’t worry, yours are in the car.”

“It’s okay,” Mirai smiled, “I can wait.”

Cater looked at the bouquet and smiled fondly, “Ya’know, after all those years of painting the roses red, I’ve come to appreciate a fine red rose. I can tell these are good quality.”

Mirai chuckled, “Same here. I couldn’t just get any old rose, it just didn’t sit right. I felt as if Riddle would pop out of nowhere and collar me or something.”

The two of them fell into a fit of laughter at the image they conjured in their heads.

“That’s Mimi?!” Lucas shouted, prompting an end to Mirai’s and Cater’s little moment, “You told me Mimi was a girl!”

“No I didn’t,” Cater said with a sardonic smile, “I said I was seeing someone and you assumed.”

“But his name is Mimi!”

“Yep. Short for Mirai.”

“Dude,” Lucas whined.

“Ignoring him,” Brooke said, pushing her way to the front of the group, “I think some introductions are in order.”

Cater took the time to introduce his colleagues to Mirai and vice versa. Mirai found the group to be very lively, and even with their different personalities, they somehow fit together perfectly.

“You two have seriously been together since high school?!” Cecelia gushed, “That’s so cute! I wish me and my hubby were high school sweethearts.”

“I’m not sure if it counts, Cater mused, “we met during my third year, and by my fourth, I was doing my internships, and he was entering his Sophomore year.”

“It counts,” Brain nodded.

“Wait, how old was he when you two met?!” Tiffany asked.

“He was seventeen then,” Cater laughed.

“Oh.”

“I’m so proud of you, Cater,” Maddox cried, “my boy is becoming a man.”

“Maddy,” Cater whined, “stop it.”

Mirai chuckled at their antics.

“So how come I’m just learning you have a high school sweetheart?” Fabian asked.

“I told you I was seeing someone for a while,” Cater laughed. “You're the one who decided that I had an imaginary girlfriend.”

“As I said earlier, you wouldn’t show me pictures.”

“And since when did I have to?”

The two began to bicker when a thick accented voice spoke up, “So this is the fabled lover of Cater Diamond.”

Cater laughed awkwardly, looking up at Georgiana, “I didn’t know word got out that far.”

“You two make a great couple.”

“Thx.”

“If only you’d told me it was Cater, I'd have given you some dirt on these guys, Mirai, no questions asked,” Xola laughed.

“Don’t you dare,” Keith shouted.

Cater’s colleagues began to converse amongst themselves, when Mirai checked the time. It was almost four-thirty, their dinner reservations were at five.

“Catie,” Mirai muttered, pulling at Cater’s sleeve, “We have to get going.”

Cater gasped. “Oopsies, sorry guys, but we gotta go if we wanna make our reservation. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye Cater, have fun,” Tiffany called.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Brooke shouted.

They made their way to Cater’s car, and Cater, ever the gentleman, opened Mirai’s door first, making sure he was seated, before shutting the door, and making his way to the driver's seat.

“Here you go, Baby,” Cater muttered, kissing Mirai on his temple, as he handed Mirai a bouquet of pink and purple hydrangeas, a teddy bear and a box of chocolates.

“They’re so pretty,” Mirai gushed, “Cater.”

“Of course, you only deserve the best.”

“And you got me lilies,” Mirai whispered, voice growing a little emotional, “Cater.”

Cater kissed Mirai on the head once more, “Don’t cry, Baby.”

“I’m not. I’m okay.”

Cater smiled softly, starting the car, and as he pulled out of his parking spot, the two of them spotted Mr. Diamond pulled out of his parking spot. Mirai waved with a big smile, his smile getting even bigger, if that was even possible, as Mr. Diamond waved back.

“Have a good night, Mirai, Cater,” Mr. Diamond called from his open window, as he drove up to their car.

“You gonna go see mom?” Cater asked.

“Of course.”

“Good luck,” Cater called. “And give these to them for me?”

Mr. Diamond nodded, taking the flowers before diving off the lot.

“Let’s get going, shall we?”

The ride to the restaurant wasn’t a long one and after Cater switched his blazer for a red one and gave his keys to the Valet, they made it just in time. The restaurant was beautiful, decked out for the holiday with rose petals decorating the tables, white ribbons covered the chairs, and pink hearts decorated the windows. And you’d think it would look tacky, but it didn’t, somehow the restaurant made it work, the look giving it a romantic, classy feel.

The dining room was packed with couples, each and everyone of them dressed to the nines. Mirai wondered how Cater even scored seats in a place like this.

“Good evening, Sir,” the hostess smiled, “May I have a name for your reservation?”

“Diamond,” Cater supplied.

After a second, the Hostess smiled, “Ah, here we are. Diamond, table for two. Alright, follow me if you please.”

Dinner went off without a hitch. Their table was on the indoor balcony that overlooked the rest of the restaurant and the city below through their floor to ceiling windows. They were served three courses starting with drinks and appetizers, which consisted of honey glazed prosciutto wrapped asparagus paired with a raspberry or cheese fondue sauce and for their drinks, sparkling cider since they had to drive home.

For their next course, Cater had a brown butter steak and mashed potatoes, and for Mirai, a plate of their finest fettuccine chicken and broccoli alfredo. Over dinner, the two of them talked about anyone and anything. Mirai filled in how things were with living with Crewel and Grim, and how university was going. He talked about the last time he met up with Ace and Deuce and how they even went to visit Riddle and Trey. Mirai told Cater anything he thought was interesting.

And Cater told him things in return. Cater talked about his department, his floor and everything they went on in the office. He talked about his sisters and his mother, he talked about his upcoming collaboration with Vil, and his hopeful future one with Idia and Kalim.

Once dessert was served, things slowed down. The sun had long set, the food had settled in their bellies and with the looks Cater started giving Mirai over his glass of sparkling as he watched the blonde devour a piece of red velvet cheesecake, Mirai was ready to head out.

“Ready, Babydoll?” Cater muttered with lidded eyes.

Mirai swallowed, feeling the telltale heat of a flush beginning to prickle at his cheeks, as he started back at Cater. The strawberry blonde smirked, putting down his glass to rest his cheek on his fist.

Mirai cleared his throat, but his words still came out hoarse, “Y-Yeah.”

They paid, took the last piece of cake to go and made their way to the front of the building where the valet arrived with their car, and as they waited, Cater made sure to get as many pictures as he could.

“Can we stop by somewhere before we go home?” Cater asked after a while of driving.

Mirai looked from his window to Cater, he couldn’t read the strawberry blonde’s expression, his face blank, eyes on the road.

“Sure. I don’t mind,” Mirai muttered finally, looking back at the city flying by.

Cater drove around for some time and after a while, Mirai realized they were in the outskirts of the city, the amount of skyscrapers getting smaller, the amount of cars dwindling.

“Where are we going?” Mirai asked, looking out the windows.

“Surprise,” Cater smiled.

It wasn’t long after that they made their way to a scenic spot that overlooked the city. Here, they could see the stars in the sky, there were no bright lights outshining the galaxies above.

“Come sit,” Cater beckoned, crawling over the center console to sit in the back seat of his red convertible.

“Cater,” Mirai giggled, crawling after Cater.

Once he was back there, Cater wrapped the two of them in a blanket and pushed the button the dropped down the top.

“Why are we here?” Mirai asked, “What's going on?”

“Because it’s nice, and I can get some totally awesome pics for my Magaicam.”

Mirai shook his head, he guessed some things would never change. Cater snapped a bunch of pictures as Mirai stared at the cityscape below.

“Mimi?” Cater called.

“Yes?”

“Cake?”

“I just had some. You tryna get me fat?”

“Well I do like feeding you,” Cater smirked. “Open?”

Mirai smiled, taking the fork into his mouth. The cake was sweet, creamy, and think, just what he liked in a good cheesecake. Eventually Mirai’s eyes wandered back to the city. Even from here, the city looked full of life. The red taillights dotted the roads, the white and gold lights from the buildings twinkled like stars, and above, the lights the warded off incoming planes pulsed like the city's heartbeat. Mirai agreed, this was nice.

“Mirai?” Cater whispered.

“Huh?” Mirai answered, reluctant to take his eyes off the city.

“Jasper.”

Mirai’s head snapped away from the scenery for a second to see Cater holding a small red velvet box. Mirai froze, his heart stopping, his blood feeling as if ice was shot through his veins. He didn’t know what to do, but to sit there like a deer in headlights.

“Ca-Cater?” Mirai whispered, shakily.

“I-It-It’s not, it’s not what you think,” Cater stammered, face going cherry red. “Will you open it?”

Mirai shakily took the box from Cater’s hands, gently pulling the top up to reveal two simple gold bands with little flowers engraved on the outside, and in the center most flower, was one lone white rhinestone. On the inside of the rings were their names, Cater Diamond on one, and Mirai Jasper Yuhara on the other.

Mirai's lip quivered as he tried his best to take the ring out of the box, but he didn’t think he could without dropping it. “I can’t,” Mirai gasped a breath as he eyes filled with tears.

“Here, let me,” Cater whispered, taking Mirai’s ring to loop a matching gold chain through it.

Mirai watched curiously as Cater did so, wondering what the gold chain was for.

“I know you’re supposed to wear these on your left hand,” Cater muttered, before reaching around the blonde to clasp it around his neck, “but I wanted it so that when the time comes, you would be able to fit it on your right.”

Only then did Mirai’s eyes finally shed their tears, “Cater.”

“They’re promise rings, oh, well, you probably already knew that-wait did you? I-I-, this, this isn’t a proposal, well, not that kind of proposal. I wanted that one to be even more special, like #TheProposal, but I also wanted this one to be special, but not too special that it would outshine that one, and I-,” Cater stopped for a second, before laughing through his tears, “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Mirai chuckled, voice muffled due to his emotions, “I-I-It’s, I understand you fully.”

“I-I’m so nervous,” Cater breathed, eyes misty, “I’ve never thought I’d be doing something like this. My life has never been stable, ya’know? I’ve moved around more times than I could count, gained and lost so many people who were close to me, and after a while, I stopped caring. I just knew everyone would disappear one day, so why try? If they were all gonna forget Cater one day, why not give them Cay-Cay instead?”

Cater took a breath before continuing, “But that was before I met you. You made me want something stable, something permanent. You made me want to be me, to be Cater. And I want you.”

Mirai hiccuped at Cater words, and as Cater reached for his hands, Mirai sobbed, gripping them tightly.

“I can’t express how much I want this to be the real deal, but I can wait. I want you to finish school, I want you to find a place for yourself here in Twisted Wonderland. And then after all of that, we can think about actually tying the knot,” Cater chuckled.

“I’d like that,” Mirai smiled, voice quivering.

“We can take our time, we can be young and dumb. We can make our mistakes, and find our place and who we are.”

“And then when we marry, we can get that house with the guest room, and the huge backyard?” Mirai asked.

“Yep, the one with the guest room for the guys, and the two car garage for our fancy cars.”

“With our dogs, and space to throw parties the whole street would envy?”

“And let’s not forget the giant walk in closet.”

The two of them fell into a fit of joyous laughter, the world and all of their worries seeming a world away.

“Here,” Mirai eventually said, holding out the other band to Cater.

“You do it,” Cater smiled.

Mirai took his time and carefully slipped the gold band onto Cater's left hand. “There. Perfect.”

“Yeah, perfect,” Cater sighed, but he wasn’t looking at the ring on his finger. Mirai looked up and realized what he was implying, his face flushing.

“I love you, Mirai,” Cater said, voice full of unbridled emotion.

“I love you, too, Cater,” Mirai choked out.

Cater pulled Mirai in for a sweet kiss, like he was trying to convey his feelings with his body and soul. Mirai kissed him back, the same feeling of love and devotion. Cater pulled back seconds later, pressing his head to Mirai’s. Even if the kiss wasn’t a long one, it conveyed everything they wanted it to.

“So, selfies?” Cater asked.

“Yeah, selfies,” Mirai laughed.

Cater snapped as many pictures as he could between showering Mirai with love and affection, littering his face and anywhere he could get his lips on with kisses. Mirai felt as if he was floating. Yes this was only the beginning, and yes they did have a long way to go, but Mirai was fine with that, because had a promise to keep, and there’s no place he’d rather be, he was content with just simply basking in their shared happiness and adoration.

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cybercupidwrites · 8 months

Note

Hi! Can I just ask for a Dick Grayson x reader? Maybe just some fluff after a long day?

Honey, I’m home!

Pairing | Dick grayson x reader

Warnings | fluff, established relationship, readers gender is not mentioned, pet names, language

Words | 492

Author’s Note | Hi friend!I’m sorry for not getting this out sooner to you! I do take requests, I’m working on the slowly though! I hope you enjoy! It’s very short!

You’d grown accustomed to making dinner late on evenings Dick was out patrolling. It was easier this way for both you and your lover, you hated eating alone, and he hated eating cold food or having to reheat it. You were killing two birds with one stone this way.

Tonight was no different Dick had his patrolling shift tonight, so you opted for a small nap at the start of his shift and when you’d eventually wake, you’ll start on dinner. You set your timer for an hour and fell fast asleep.

Once you’d woken up, you decided it’d be a good time to do some paperwork then start on dinner. It was a Friday night, so you weren’t anticipating Dick come home till very, very late. Thinking you have about a good hour and a half till you absolutely had to start on dinner you began finishing up some paperwork you had today.

You were caught up in the middle of reading over something, when the door opened, “Honey, I’m home!”

Shit. You muttered to yourself looking over at the clock, you were supposed to start dinner over half an hour ago. God, how could you let yourself lose track of time?

“Honey?” His voice calling out to you was all you need to be pulled away from your own thoughts. “Hey sweetie! I’m in the dining room!” You answered as you stood from your chair and straighten all your paperwork in a neat stack.

As soon as Dick stepped into the dining area, you could tell he’d had a long night. “Hey,” he let out with a sigh as he slumped down into the chair right next to the one you were just in.

“Long night?” He nodded softly as he rubbed his eyes. It was at this moment you noticed the new bruise on the side of his face, and the ones on his knuckles, you let out a gasp softly.

“Dick, your face! Oh, it looks terrible, let me get you some ice! Would you like anything else? Hungry? I can make some sandwiches and soup if you’d like? Yeah let me go do that!” You turned away from your boyfriend, toward the fridge to get ice for him and possibly the things you need for sandwiches, Dick sighs and stands up.

“It’s not as bad a you think, my face is fine its just a bruise. Like you said it was a long night” he pulled you toward him into a tight hug. His body relaxing once he felt you hugging him back.

“I’m okay serious. All i want to do is hold you and relax, i’m not so hungry right now as i am tired. Let’s go to bed, please?” You nodded, grabbed a hold of his hand and led him to your shared bedroom. Suddenly you weren’t feeling so hungry either, cuddling with Dick was the perfect way to end both of your long days.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you

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punmasterkentparson · 2 years

Text

Playoffs

Notes: I’m cleaning out my WIP folder, we’ll see where it takes us.

Read on AO3

Alexei fancies himself a romantic—the sort of man who wines and dines his lovers before falling into bed with them.

Which is why the thing with Parson is such a disaster.

“My place?” Parson asks, after an accidental meeting in a Vegas bar and a thirty-minute conversation has Alexei still unsure whether Parson is flirting with him or trying to start a fight. They’ve got a game against each other tomorrow morning and Alexei already hates Parson’s guts. Sleeping with him is a terrible idea. But Alexei is coming down off a really bad breakup, one that he hadn’t seen coming, one that has left him so heartbroken and at a loss for the reason that he has caught himself getting short with his teammates when they so much as mention their significant others.

Alexei had thought she was the one. He’d expected to marry her. Clearly, they hadn’t been on the same page.

Parson is as far from a romantic encounter as Alexei will get. As Taylor Swift would say, he’s a nightmare dressed as a daydream.

“Sure,” Alexei says, and does one last shot before following Parson into a taxi and then into his apartment.

The sex isn’t friendly, but it is damn good.

(And so is the next day’s game: a nice, tidy win for the Falconers that leaves Alexei smirking at Parson as he watches him leave the ice.)

Which is why Alexei lets Parson into his apartment the next time the Aces are in Providence. There’s no alcohol this time, which means Alexei has the wherewithal to peel Parson out of his clothes while steering him into the bedroom. He’s still got both socks, an undershirt, and Parson’s button-up left to go when he pushes him to sit on the bed and sinks to his knees.

“Oh,” Parson says. “Fuck, yes.”

“Underwear. Off,” Alexei grunts while digging a condom out of his bedside table.

Parson shimmies out of his boxers and kicks them away. “Take your shirt off?”

“Why?”

Parson snorts, amused. “Because we’re having sex? I wanna see you.”

Alexei strips his shirt off. Then he rolls the condom on and goes to work.

Parson moans and arches and shudders while Alexei works his dick. His hands fist the bedsheets, and then one finds Alexei’s shoulder. “Stop, stop.”

Confused, Alexei pulls off and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Parson scoots up the bed, tugging Alexei’s arm. “Nothing’s wrong. I just changed my mind. I want you on top of me. Come on, get your pants off and get up here.”

Alexei gets his pants off and follows. He presses Parson into the sheets and rolls them together until they’re both gasping. But it takes a turn from sensual to frustrating; they can’t quite sync up their respective rhythms, and no matter how much Alexei tries to guide their hips with his hands, Parson refuses to follow.

“Hey,” Parson complains. “Stop manhandling me.”

“Because you move wrong!”

“Christ, roll over, I’ll do it myself.”

Alexei growls but he rolls over. Parson straddles him and gathers their dicks in his hand, not bothering to remove the condom. “Move with me.”

Alexei thinks its rich of Parson to demand what he wouldn’t do himself, but with Parson in control now, at least Alexei can literally lie back and enjoy the ride. Parson’s grip is firm and his body blushes gorgeously as he moves. Alexei grips Parson’s thighs and enjoys how they tense and shake when he comes.

He lets the thing with Parson continue because he’s got nothing better. He tells himself he’ll break it off when a real partner comes along—someone fun, smart, stacked. Someone he can see himself marrying and kissing at center ice when the Falconers win the Stanley. (God, he wants to win the fucking Stanley.) Parson’s good in bed and he keeps Alexei on his toes everywhere else—on the ice, on the phone, in the press—but he’s not marriage material. He’s just a good distraction.

Alexei wakes up one day and realizes he’s gotten distracted with Parson for almost two years. He thinks he should download a dating app; find someone new. And he means to, but the season is picking up, with the Falconers careening towards a real playoffs slot this year, and he hasn’t got the time. The only reason the thing with Parson has worked for as long as it has is because Parson is in the same professional sports machine as Alexei. They both get how it works. Alexei has always had to explain to his dates and his girlfriends (and boyfriends, if he’d ever allowed himself to openly have one) the infinite ways his job comes first. Parson doesn’t need to hear it.

The thing with Parson is working so far, and Alexei doesn’t have the time to find something better.

Playoffs are a nightmare. It’s the thing Alexei works towards for six months straight, and when it comes, it eats him and everyone else on the team alive. Time ceases to exist; he lives in a world of eat, sleep, hockey, repeat. His awareness boils down to his stick in his hands, the ice under his feet, and the puck on his tape. Every game is a marathon, and this year is particularly tough. Boston fights tooth and nail for five games in the first round, and Pittsburgh drags the second round out to six.

“Good game,” he says to each of the guys in line. “Good game.”

The Conference Finals are against Carolina and are shitshow. Alexei feels like punching at least three guys in the face rather than shake their hands after the Falconers beat them, but he grits his teeth and repeats, “Good game. Good game,” even though he’s got a black eye to attest to the fact that it damn well wasn’t.

By the time Alexei is flying out to Seattle for a shot at ripping the Stanley from the Schooners’ greedy hands, he’s been bounced around so many generic Midwestern hotel rooms that he’s about to lose his mind.

Kent flies up from Nevada to simultaneously keep him company and keep out of his way. Alexei eats, sleeps, plays hockey, and has sex on autopilot.

“Sorry,” he grunts into Kent’s shoulder blades after yet another desperate, rutting, decisively unromantic performance on his part, during which he completely forgot to give Kent a reach-around. “Sorry is bad sex.”

“You’ll make it up to me,” Kent replies, unbothered, and wiggles out from under Alexei to find a towel and clean himself up. Alexei would feel worse about it if he wasn’t so damn tired, and if Kent hadn’t shut him out last year when the Aces were in their own playoffs hell. Everyone deals with the pressure differently.

Alexei buries his face in his pillow and passes out before Kent returns.

Seattle puts up a fight. To their fans they’re affable and chill, but on the ice they fight dirty. The finals go all the way to the seventh game, a vicious tug-of-war over points and shots and goals and several scrums over goalie interference. Alexei drops his gloves twice in the fifth game and gets a talking-to from their coach before the sixth. He keeps his cool but it doesn’t matter, they’re back in Seattle for game seven, and Kent holds him like an octopus the whole night before.

Final score: 5-4 in OT. Poots scores the game-winner, and is promptly buried under his teammates. The next eight hours are a dizzying, euphoric whirlwind of yelling, hugging, drinking, dancing, butt-slapping, and then partying at two different restaurants and a bar.

Alexei stumbles back to his hotel room and into Kent’s waiting arms at 3am. Kent couldn’t come to the celebrations; he didn’t even risk attending the game. They’re both each other’s dirty little secret, and Alexei has been fine with that, right up until this moment.

He’s drunk on champagne and he kisses Kent stupid the second he gets in the door. And when Kent pulls away gasping for air, Alexei declares, “Next time, I kiss you at center ice.”

Kent’s breath hitches. He looks gobsmacked.

Alexei clumsily grabs Kent’s face in both hands and kisses him gently—or as gently as a drunk man who nearly fell out of his own Uber getting here possibly can. “Wish you there with me,” he murmurs. “Next time, yeah?” It occurs to him that he’s asking a lot, that Kent might not want this thing of theirs badly enough to risk going public, and abruptly he feels so scared he could throw up. (Although that could be the champagne.)

But Kent lets out a sigh that might be a sob and presses their foreheads together. “Yeah,” he whispers, like he can’t trust his voice any louder than that. “Fuck. Yeah. Next time.”

“Sorry not this time,” Alexei says. “Sorry is all bad sex and hiding in hotel.”

Kent groans and thumps his fist on Alexei’s pectoral. “You said you’d make it up to me.” He undulates his entire body up the length of Alexei’s, making Alexei gasp and moan and shudder. “So, make it up to me.”

Alexei does.

#patater #Check Please!#check please #kent parson #alexei mashkov #fanfic #yes hi i'm still writing

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