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moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi @bluejaem @lyshoonn @vera-liscious @allegxdly @cupfullofjeno @thats-a-jen-no-no @yo-ddream

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried.

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

308 notes · View notes

kurowrites · 4 years

Note

"you asked me to the store with you and your child, and now my distant relative we met thinks im married with a baby" for wangxian :3

I doubt this was the thing you expected, but ... [smashes keyboard]

---

It had been a coincidence, really, nothing that he’d planned. He’d just been on his way out of the door to get his groceries done when he came across one of his neighbours in the entrance hall; the really handsome one with the cute little toddler that always smiled at him. The one where the mother of the child had probably left the picture, because he’d never actually seen her.

Quietly, he wondered what woman would leave a man that was so obviously caring well for his child, and a toddler so friendly and cute, but then, that was really none of his business.

In any case, when he ran into them in the entrance hall of the apartment building, the toddler was having a big temper tantrum (that was a first), and his father, despite his best efforts at calming the child, was completely unsuccessful in stopping the wailing. His usually neutral face was, for once, wrinkled in concern and apparent helplessness.

Wei Ying knew the feeling too well, from similar situations with his own family. Recently, it had been happening particularly often because of Jin Ling, his beloved nephew who had taken an unfortunate page from the book of his father and had started an early ‘nonono, I don’t want to’ phase.

So Wei Ying automatically did what he always did with Jin Ling: he made a stupid face at the toddler, and when the toddler looked at Wei Ying in momentary confusion, Wei Ying grabbed him, lifted him up, and wheeled him around. The kid let out a sound halfway between annoyance and enjoyment. Wei Ying took the chance he got, and folded over with the biggest grin on his face, tilting the child upside down with him. Then he flipped back up, and did it again. By the third time, the child was laughing.

“Again, again!”

Wei Ying did it again, and then tried to set the child down, but it was too late. Quick as anything, two hands grabbed him with surprising strength, and he now had a spider monkey on his hands. The child clung to him, eagerly asking for more parentally inadvisable acrobatics.

Wei Ying looked at the father apologetically, who had witnessed the whole event with the earlier frown still on his face, shrugging a little as he held the little monkey in his arms.

“Sorry for barging in like that,” he said. “It’s just something I picked up from handling my nephew. It works with him every time, so I started doing it automatically. You’re probably busy, I should let you go.”

He tried to hand the boy back to his father, but there was no budging. The child clung to him like a leech, whining at Wei Ying to play with him.

“I am sorry,” the father said, clearly unsure how to handle the situation and his uncooperating child. “He is usually not that difficult. Today is…”

He trailed off.

Wei Ying smiled encouragingly. “Hey, parenting is hard. Tell me, where were you going? I was planning to go to the supermarket near the park, and if you’re heading in the same direction, we can walk together until he’s calmed down a little.”

Wei Ying was almost sure there was something akin to relief in the father’s face.

“I was also heading out for groceries,” the father replied. “If it is not too much to ask…”

“Hey, no biggie,” Wei Ying smiled. “If you carry my groceries, all is well.”

He winked at the boy in his arms.

“Always get others to carry your things.”

“Gege is carrying ME!” the boy exclaimed excitedly, and Wei Ying laughed.

“I see, I see, you are a smart one!”

Wei Ying winked at the father, and after assuring him that he was perfectly fine carrying a toddler around, they walked to the grocery store together.

On the way, Wei Yin learned that the names of father and son were Lan Zhan and Lan Yuan, respectively. They hadn’t been living in the apartment building for very long (Wei Ying had suspected as much), and had recently relocated because Lan Zhan had changed jobs.

Wei Ying felt the urge to ask about the child’s mother, but managed to suppress his curiosity.

It was none of his business, he told himself sternly. He had no place nosing around in a stranger’s private affairs, even when the man in question was particularly handsome, and the toddler particularly cute.

---

Shopping turned out to be way more fun than it usually was. Lan Yuan was still stuck to Wei Ying, unwilling to give up the prime real estate in Wei Ying’s arms, so Wei Ying carried him through the supermarket like a little king, and together, they commanded Lan Zhan what he needed to buy.

Lan Zhan was a strict man that was extremely picky about the foods that he put onto the plate of his child, Wei Ying learned quickly. But he was also a father that very clearly loved by his son, and everything Lan Yuan said was considered seriously, even when it was eventually turned down. Wei Ying almost felt bad to ask Lan Zhan to help him with his groceries, since his eating habits were… nowhere near Lan Zhan’s, that was for sure.

Lan Zhan himself frowned a little when he saw all the stuff that Wei Ying was planning to buy, and though he was evidently trying to restrain himself from commenting, he eventually cracked.

“You do not cook for yourself?” he asked, as Wei Ying snatched another box of frozen food out of the freezer one-handed, balancing Lan Yuan on his hip.

“Not really,” Wei Ying replied lightly. “I’m a horrible cook. My sister banned me from her kitchen.”

“Fresh vegetables are important,” Lan Zhan said, clearly not approving of his dietary choices.

“I know! I have them when I visit my sister. She makes the best food.”

He smiled at Lan Yuan.

“Always eat your veggies, mister, if you want to grow as tall as your dad.”

“I’m gonna be taller!”

It was spoken with so much enthusiasm and conviction that Wei Ying had to laugh.

“You have a lot of work to do and many veggies to eat, then!”

“What about Gege?” Lan Yuan asked. “You also need to eat veggies and grow taller.”

“I’m not going to get any taller now, I’ve reached my maximum height already,” Wei Ying replied. “Not everyone gets to be as tall as your dad.”

That opened an entire new can of worms, because now Lan Yuan wanted to know why Wei Ying wasn’t as tall as his father, and why people were tall or small or fat or thin, and Wei Ying found himself inundated with questions he might have been able to answer more easily if he had been able to pull out his mobile phone and search for some scientifically accurate answers.

But Lan Yuan seemed to enjoy the explanations that Wei Ying could give, so honestly, all was well. He’d apparently completely forgotten the reason why he’d had a meltdown in the entrance hall of their apartment block, and seemed to enjoy being babied by someone other than his father, for once.

“A-Yuan is such a good child,” Wei Ying sighed as they left the supermarket (Lan Zhan carrying Wei Ying’s groceries as promised). “If I ever have children, I also want to have a child like A-Yuan.”

Lan Yuan hugged Wei Ying with a smile, and Wei Ying had to squish the little boy, overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of intense affection. He was just too precious. Dammit, he didn’t even have a partner, he couldn’t go around getting baby fever.

“Wei Ying should adopt me!” Lan Yuan exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Like Baba!”

Now that was… Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan, confused about that little nugget of information.

Lan Zhan, not looking at him but at Lan Yuan, chastised his son gently.

“A-Yuan, you cannot simply ask unrelated people to adopt you. I am your cousin. We were family before I adopted you. The same cannot be asked for from unrelated people.”

It was a very rational explanation, Wei Ying thought. It also answered a few questions about the apparent non-existence of a mother. But it also seriously underestimated Wei Ying’s particular brand of free-spiritedness combined with a healthy dose of disregard for societal conventions, so Wei Ying lifted Lan Yuan higher and gave him a cheeky grin.

“For what it’s worth, A-Yuan,” he declared, “I would totally adopt you if given the chance. I don’t think your father would give you up for any price, but just know that I would.”

Lan Yuan gave him the biggest smile in reply, and Lan Zhan gave him the most severe frown he had ever seen in his life, but he didn’t care.

Lan Yuan was just too cute, and Wei Ying was entirely honest when he said that he would adopt a child like him in a heartbeat. Of course, a decision like that would be a big responsibility. Taking care of a life. But he had never been the type to think about such things carefully before jumping right in. He had always wanted a family. And he had experience in handling kids. He could do it, he knew.

Maybe I should really start to consider having a child, he thought to himself, snuggling Lan Yuan a little tighter, resting their heads together, even without a partner in the picture. I have Dajie too, I can rise a child on my own.

(He did not notice Lan Zhan’s considering gaze.)

---

“Are you a homewrecker now?”

“Hello A-Cheng, it’s nice to hear from you, I’m doing very well, thank you,” Wei Ying sang into the receiver. “Why are you calling?”

“You were seen with a father and his child at the supermarket,” came Jiang Cheng’s angry voice from the other side of the connection. “Flirting inappropriately. Really, now? Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with a man that already has a toddler.”

“Ouch, A-Cheng, who do you think I am?” Wei Ying asked theatrically. (If he was honest, the sentiment hurt a little.) “He’s just a neighbour, I was helping out like good neighbours do. He is in fact not married and the child is adopted, so even if I was sleeping with him, which I’m not, there would be nothing inappropriate about it. Also, I have never slept with any man of my acquaintance and I’m not sure why this is coming up now.”

“So that means we don’t have to reserve a seat for him at the next family dinner?”

Wei Ying spluttered. “Wha- what??”

“My sister was really excited at the thought of getting a nephew. I guess it was too much to ask. If you start fucking him, don’t tell me, but I need to know if I have to make more reservations than usual. That’s all. Bye.”

The next moment, Jiang Cheng had hung up, and Wei Ying stared at his phone beeping at him in disbelief.

What the hell?

How had Jiang Cheng even found out he had gone shopping with Lan Zhan and Lan Yuan?

Still shaken and repeating the entire conversation in his head, trying to make sense of it, he heard the doorbell ring. He threw his phone aside and scrambled to get to the door.

As soon as he opened the door, A-Yuan threw himself forward and latched onto Wei Ying’s leg tightly, grinning up at him.

“Gege! Play with me!” he shouted in lieu of a greeting.

Behind him stood Lan Zhan, all prim and proper, with his arms folded behind his back.

“He said he was missing you,” he said with an apologetic bow.

Slowly, Wei Ying bent down and lifted A-Yuan up to settle him on his hip. He stared at Lan Zhan, standing there and staring back, and thought about the strange phone call that he’d just had.

Of course he was happy that A-Yuan wanted to see him again. And of course he was happy that Lan Zhan had come to actively seek him out.

And of course he thought that–

Well.

Quietly, he wondered what it needed to make Lan Zhan accept an invitation for family dinner.

Well, maybe not a family dinner, first thing. Something a little more private was appropriate.

He gave A-Yuan a small kiss to the crown of his head, and saw Lan Zhan following the movement intently.

Hm, he thought giddily. Maybe not quite as much as I thought it might.

He smiled at Lan Zhan.

“Why don’t you come in? I doubt I’m getting this little one off of me very soon.”

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mdzs headcanons #not pictured: wwx and lwj lusting after each other in the hallway of their apartment block #lol #anonymous

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Note

Hi Tira! Is it alright if you summarize what happened in both parts of XY’s personal story?

absolutely! (there is no better mental break from studying hell than sweet xia yan content)

Part 1

MC heads over to XY's place and grabs breakfast for the two of them - buns and soymilk that XY used to like from a place near their old home

when she heads to his place, he's not there though

then he shows up outside, carrying breakfast that he bought for the two of them too (they're adorable) (he got a light salad thing and fruit/veggie juice)

anyways while eating XY munches the buns super fast while MC takes her time, XY is like 😔 I don't wanna eat my healthy breakfast now

MC asks why he went for salad; XY says that it's because their meals were set back when he was at the capital because they were training every day and they were healthy + portable

MC tries to wipe off XY's face but then they get all blushy about it so MC lets him do it himself

XY goes off to wash the dishes while MC cleans up his kinda messy room (insert chibi RPG aspect where we look at different parts of his room. Important thing is her noting a notebook that says "10 things that a couple must do: Eat breakfast together, go supermarket shopping together, make food together...". Also a message on XY's phone about a repair project)

MC goes to see how XY's doing with the dishes, followed by cup-sharing scene that MC gets embarrassed over but XY is clueless about

They head off to MC's workplace - hella cute scene that i'll translate in detail bc why not

The whole way here, Xia Yan held tight to my hand and took me to the front desk of the law firm. This was the first time that I felt like the route to work was so short.

MC: Here so fast already...

XY: Head on in, don't be late. I'll pick you up after work.

MC: Mhmm...

XY: Hold on, have you forgotten something?

MC: What?

Xia Yan pointed at his cheek, and I curiously got closer. I stood on my tiptoes and looked at his face, where there was a bright smile. I looked all over but didn't see anything.

MC: Looks pretty clean - what are you trying to show me?

XY: Uh...

Xia Yan sighed exaggeratedly, shook his head exasperatedly, and pointed at his cheek.

XY: A goodbye kiss.

anyways when MC goes in for it, XY backs up like "oh uh I was just kidding! just a hug is fine"

MC heads in and hears ppl talking about their love troubles. A colleague tells her that everyone saw XY (man I hope Zuo Ran did not see bc that would be so awkward)

Midway through the day, XY calls in and asks about making dinner later together; after the call MC realizes that it's another thing in that notebook

after work they head to the supermarket to buy ingredients

very good domestic fluff

they head to XY's place and make the food. Too bad the braised pork ends up burning which makes XY feel really bad :( MC cheers him up by saying that they'll definitely get it next time

MC gives XY a cheek kiss to make up for the morning

Part 2

MC's been working nonstop for the past while and hasn't really been able to see XY

MC begins pulling an all nighter when XY calls in, advising her to take a break; MC ends up hanging up on him out of stress

MC works until it's all done, takes a long sleep, wakes up to see her phone full of notifs from XY yesterday, and feels bad for what she did

MC heads off to XY's place to apologize (meanwhile buying a bunch of snacks)

Then it turns out that XY went to MC's place so he rushes over back to his place

MC apologizes to XY; XY says it's alright, she was under a ton of stress, and anyways it's normal to show emotional flaws the closer you are with someone

they head off to eat snacks and talk about the repair project on a tape recorder that XY was working on

the client of the tape recorder calls in and asks XY to send it off to a specific place when he's done, which XY finds strange bc the client always came to XY's shop himself

they head off to a secondhand shop with a part that XY needs for the repair project; on the way, they see Ji Xiaoyu (Ch.4 personal) who looks a lot better - she's gotten back her parents' home that was defrauded away and is planning to go back to school

At the secondhand shop, the owner confirms that he has the part that XY needs

also look at how happy XY is when introducing MC as his girlfriend

in the secondhand shop, MC notices a sword and mirror (!!! Looming Nightmare!!) and considers buying it

they head back to XY's place

MC promises that what happened before won't happen again; XY says that it's alright even if it does, because as long as their feelings don't change, then some disagreements are fine

anyways XY suggests taking a selfie (is there a group version of this word lmao) since they haven't had one since getting together, or even after the 8 years in general, insert this cg

#ask #tears of themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan

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thekitschdiet · 3 years

Text

my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet.

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days.

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress.

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram. Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it.

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even…

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera.

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead. Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit.

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read).

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tazanna-blythe · 3 years

Text

Done

Chapter 5

~Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie~

"Wellcome ladies so how's school?" Sabine said with a motherly smile smile then placing a freshly baked Croissants on the table.

"Where fine, just another day at the clown house, I swear that our classmates have no brain cells not one of them "Chloe said while spreading butter on her croissant then without any hesitation she ate it.

"I beg to differ dear but i think they still have one connecting brain cell,seeing as they are one and no one can break their bond"Mari and she also ate the croissant happily

"So Dumb,Dumber,Dumbest then? or all equally dumb?" Chloe mumble (she took another bite on her food)

"No it's like they all have an on and off button for their reasoning and common sense and Liela has the button" Mari

"And She uses her sausage her as an antenna the give them signals hahahahahahahhaha"Chloe

"Ladies that's not nice besides everyone has their own preference or style that they think is fashionable ... all though i wanna know who told her having a sausage as an inspiration for a hairstyle especially when she moves her head she looks like a paddle ball a had when i was a kid" Sabine

both Chloe and Marinette bust into laughter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Collège Françoise Dupont Clinic

*Bell *

Adrien is still sleeping soundly and the kind nurse doesn't want to wake him up and clearly from how pale his face is and how dark his eye bags are and how bone to skin he is, she made a decision to call his guardians to pick him up and have him take a proper rest and some good soul food too judging by how boney he is. this child is a model she understands this but this is to much and it has a medical term called MALNUTRITION so she's not gonna stand by and do nothing.

So she quietly and gentle as she can took photos and notes on Adrien body. because he is wearing a plain white T-shirt and a loose pants all she has to do is hold some of the cloth of the T-shirt to make it tight to show how small and boney he is and she all so did the same thing to the pants. His wearing a T-shirt so his some of is upper arm is shone so the nurse took a measuring tape and measure his arms and leg. And lastly because of the akuma attacks the School funds for the clinic doubled and because of this most of their equipments are brand new and the latest model so the bed has a scale built in it so she took his weight and height. and all of this is recorded in the clinic's CCTV camera she made sure of it.

After all that is done she neatly filed this info on her computer and flash drive then she called his guardians. fortunately for him his father and his assistant is so busy that they cannot answer their phone so it was Gorilla who was called to pick him up.

When Gorilla arrived the nurse was so scared of him she almost scream in fear when he suddenly appeared in front of her luckily she didn't.

"Hello Sir. how can i help you" Nurse

"Hi my name is SImon and I'm here to pick up Adrien" Gorilla (HIS NAME IS SIMON OH MY GOSH I JUST FOUND OUT TODAY!!!)

"Hi my name is Katty and I'm the school nurse nice to meet you"

"Likewise"

"Im sorry but before I hand over Adrien to you i need to see your IDs please"

"Sure"

"Ok it seems that everything is in order then you may take him home, and also my advice is to keep him stress free, eat and sleep more cause we don't want him to suddenly collapse now do we"

"Yes ma'am"

Then Gorilla slowly and Gently picked up Adrien like a porcelain princess and took his backpack/sling bag and went home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Collège Françoise Dupont Gym

"Ok class since Adrien is sick we need to still proceed to class. Now, I want all of you to make two lines.One for boys and one for the girls CHOP ChOP!!! " Gym teacher

“Um Sir. What about lila??” Rose

“What about her?“

“Lila Sprained her risk and ankle so she cant stand very long“ Alya

“Ok then Who’s Lila, Raise your good arm“

“Sir. I’m Lila Rossi“ Liela replied with a small smile and leaning into her left foot for effect

The Teacher saw her and slowly walk towards her while inspecting her body for injuries

“Which foot is sprained and which arm?“

“My right foot and arm sir “Liela said weakly.

“Can i check your arm and foot?“ The Teacher ask nicely

“Yes of course“

So someone brought a chair for her to sit while the Gym Teacher inspect her injuries

“Awww, Aw aw aw awaaa that hurts“ Liela cries dramatically like a spoiled dog. While the Teacher was just holding her arm not doing anything other than carrying it like a sausage

“Ok then Lila where's your medical note seeing as this is a “BIG INJURY” your parents shouldn't have let you go to school?“ The Teacher looking and talking to her like a person would to a two year old

“My Dad left us since i was young and my Mom is so busy that she’d forgotten about me“ Liela said sadly trying to make her tears drop not realizing that the teacher don't buy it

“Hush now don't cry dear I’m sure your mom is just tired now why don't you sit here and be quiet while all of us start the class,O.K“

“Yes sir“ with a final fake sob she smile at the Teacher.

“Ok,now two lines people, great now everybody just jog 20 laps then you are dismissed.But remember do not break your line and JOG NOT RUN OK ALIX AND KIM! if i see any of you break your line or run i’ll make everyone do 15 jumping jacks then additional 10 laps. Am I Clear! “

“Yes,Sir!!“ the Students then do as they were told while lila stayed seated smiling at her small victory and proceeds play on her phone and to search for more things to lie to make her even more popular.

While everybody was busy doing their task no one noticed the Gym Teacher also take’s his phone and contacted the School Nurse asking for Lila’s medical records and telling her what happen today.

Faking an injury to a teacher who was an athlete himself was a big No No but he cant just outed the child right then and there because she’ll get emotional and he doesn't want to cause another akuma.He’ll just do it the old fashion way... Making the parents discipline their own child. but first he needed her records.

“Did you just see what i just witness?“ Chloe while looking at her exhausted classmates after they finished 20 laps.

“What?“ Mari while handling her a bottle of cold water

“You really didn’t see that?,Thanks“

“You mean Liela’s ridiculous lie then yeah and so?“

“So? So?, Mari she just gotten away with it and it wasn’t even a good lie and acting“

“No, I don’t think she did“

“Huh?! Would her majesty care to explain?“

“Our gym Teacher is an Athlete who won medals in his time. He out of everyone here would have known just by looking at someone if they have any physical injuries“

“So he just let her go?“

“No. I don't think he would so let's just watch and see what he'll do, besides if he really fell for it then his just another idiot who needs to be replaced” Marinette said as she and Chloe backed their bags and left.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey Nino do you have any info about Adrien??“ Alix

“Yeah Nino what happen to him?, you were the last person we saw with him?“ Alya

“Well he looked sick so i send him to the clinic, I didn't know that he was that sick“ Nino

“Well I Just hope he gets better“ Alix

“So has anyone gotten started researching yet??“Alya

“Nope we were just hoping that will do it together like in a slumber party?“ Rose

“Actually that’s not bad soo who's house are we going?“Juleka

“What are you guys talking about? and where are we going?“ Liela walked to them when she saw her minions talking without her and of course she was escorted by the ever loyal dog Kim

“I umm“ Juleka

“Yeah where are we going?“ Kim

Everyone was looking at each other knowing that they can fool kim but not Lila.

“Well-“ Alya

“We were planning on a slumber party tonight but we haven't decided where will be staying?“Juleka

“Oh!! why don't we stay at my place my parents arent how so i have are house all to myself and you guys don't have to bring anything with you because and my parents just went to the supermarket yesterday“ Rose

“Really that's great so it's settled will head home pack then will go directly to Rose’s house“ Alya

“Great I can't wait to spend time with my very BEST FRIENDS! but aren't we gonna invite Marinette and Chloe?“ Liela

“No need they’ll just destroy and ruined the party. So what are we waiting for let GOOOOOO!!!“ Alya

After that everyone started packing their bags and left to their respective homes with a smile on their faces.

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

It's been so long since I Uploaded something and i hope you guys liked it.... If you guys have any suggestion i’ll be happy to read and maybe include them in my next work.

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#ml au #ml fic #ml salt #Marinette deserves better #lila salt #ml class salt #Done Chapter 5 #miraculous lady bug salt #marinette x damian

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xavadak3davrax · 4 years

Text

Primed for Sin / George Weasley

Actor!George

Primed for sin

George x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), female receiving pleasure, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fluff, angst (?).

Summary: George is a famous actor and y/n is starting her career in the cinematic world.

a/n: So basically actor George came to my mind in a ‘puf’ moment. I had to write it for George because I felt like he deserved another moment after I wrote four parts por Prince Fred ahah.

☾☾☾

George started his career in acting like any other person. He grew up loving everything related to movies, series, music, he loved acting. It had started in the small school plays his mother, Molly, made him participate in. In the first ever school play George remember being so embarrassed because none of his friends were in it.

But then he got the taste of what it was like to have people clapping and enjoying and his love for acting started there. Let’s just say after that Molly didn’t make him participate in anything. He did that on his own. He had everything to thank his parents and family for. Because they were the ones who were there for every single play George was in all throughout his school years. Fred, his twin brother was the one who helped George make all the costumes and necessary things for the play he was gonna be in, since his parents weren’t rich and just couldn’t afford to pay someone to do that for them.

It was Ginny and Fred, and then later Molly and Arthur who convinced George to audition for the first movie he ever participated in. George was eighteen at the time was finishing up high school, along with working a part-time job at the local ice-cream store when the opportunity presented it self. When he saw the ad he was finishing up work, it was late and he had been so tired because it was peek summer time and a good ice-cream was what people were looking for. The paper was on the ground all wrinkled up because so many people had step on it already. But George took one good look at it and his heart felt all kinds of weird. Was that a sign? Should he take it had one?

He took the paper with him, but that night he told nobody about it. He left himself to think about it, what it said and what he read. And laying in bed that night, in the bedroom he shared with his twin brother he fell asleep thinking about a better future for him.

The next morning Ron, his younger brother had found the paper in the pocked of George’s jeans. George had forgotten it there and that’s when he thought he had made a mistake. But the events that happened next told him otherwise. His mom was so thrilled about that idea than when he woke up and came to the kitchen to have breakfast with all his family the first thing he got was a bright smile from his mom and then a tight hug.

“George you gotta audition for it.” His mother had said, he was a little confused and took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. But when he looked at Ron and he shook the little paper he knew they now knew what had consumed his thoughts all night.

George ended up auditioning for that movie after he saw how supportive his family was of it and how they seemed to find this a great opportunity for him. That was the first movie he ever started in.

Turns out being a tall ginger haired boy has it’s perks and people seem to want a lot of him. He stared in a lot of small movies before he actually had his break through. The movie that actually put him in the spot light was a romance movie, where he was for the first time ever since staring in films, the main character. Until then he had only been in the not so important positions.

George was twenty-one when that happen.

He was now twenty-five and people came from every part of the world begging to have him started in their movies. His agent, Leah was always denying people because George had a busy schedule. When his acting had started to grow and the money and fame had started to grow George also started doing something more than just acting. He volunteered in numerous occasions, he also donated a lot of money and was always made sure he was working towards a better world. But being nice here didn’t mean he was nice when it came to his main career.

Leah had warned in various occasion to be more cautious and careful and nicer because he had lost a lot of opportunities because of his bad attitude. George always clamed it didn’t matter because he never stopped getting other more amazing ones.

So now, while he’s finishing up the knot on tie, turned to the mirror eyes focused on what his doing, he’s also rolling them from time to time while he listens to Leah. George was to star in a movie that was expected already to be nominated for numerous grammys and other awards. He didn’t even had audition, he was the chosen one from the beginning and they had also asked him to be part of the process of choosing the other main character he was going to act with. So now he was getting ready to go to that meeting and Leah was going on about how he should be nice and should behave.

“Please George, this is very important, and don’t forget, they picked you for this but that doesn’t mean you can budge in and deny everything. If they find someone they like and the majority agrees, you have to go with it.” Leah said, finally looking up from the Ipad and locked eyes with George. They were the same age, George had hired her after his second good paid gig when he understood things could be better for him and he needed someone to manage all the stuff he was to unorganized to do. Leah at the time was someone who had just lost her job, was looking for anything to do and George had swooped in and helped her. She was so grateful for that, but it didn’t mean she was gonna give him an easy time. George was grateful for that. He liked that she was hard on him, that’s what he needed to keep himself focused on what was important.

“I’m gonna give my opinion. I’m sorry Leah but didn’t they chose me to help?” He questioned, now turning around to her, his hands smoothing the fabric of his black jacket. When she didn’t say anything he continued. “They did. And so if they did that it’s because they need my expertise on the matter so I’m not gonna hold back. Besides when I started this years ago people were hard on me and that’s how I got to where I am today.” He stated, coming down the small step from the zone in his room where he usually got ready. He smiled at her when he passed her and then went towards the leaving room.

“George, I know, but you have to be nicer. Besides there’s gonna be a lot of people where it’s gonna be a first time going to such a big audition. Please, I beg you, have some consideration.” Her voice was pleading. George sighed heavily and before he responded he was already nodding.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can pull of.”

The smile Leah had on her when he turned around was massive.

☾☾

“George thank you so much for coming in.” Said James, the director of the movie, along side him was the scrip writer and then the author of the book the movie was inspired in. George shook all their hands, a fake smile on his face. Although he enjoyed the opportunity, he never really liked a lot of the people who worked in this universe, some of them were to fake for him. “There’s a big queue outside so this might take some time, but I’m sure some of them won’t even make it pass de minute mark.” The guy gave a laugh that had a lot of negativity to it. And Leah was worried that George was gonna be the mean one.

“So since I see everyone is here, should we just get started?” George asked, trying to conceal the little boredom in his voice. When they all nodded, they went to their designated places in a small very brightly lit room ready to star.

The first ten girls that came in George thought they didn’t even know exactly what they were auditioning for. Although with the script in her hands, none of them was able to form one sentence that didn’t have a mistake in. or that completely changed the meaning of that it was actually suppose to be.

Then they found a girl who was good and performed well but they couldn’t accept her in that moment so they told her they would contact her. George thought it was impossible to find any better than her and she wasn’t even that good, she was just able to say the part of the script she was asked to, without any mistakes.

And also because he was loosing all hope, it had been two hours of this and they had only found that one girl. No other seemed to fit the role of what they were looking for. Until y/n came in.

y/n had been preparing for this audition for a whole month if not more. At only twenty one y/n thought her life was a complete mess. Almost all of her friends had finished college, some already working for big firms, some married, some with kids. They all seemed to have a path in their lives. Y/n? Well in this moment exactly she was swimming in debt, leaving in the cheapest apartment she could find and working full time at a supermarket near her house. Her plan since she was little was to become an actress, y/n loved every aspect of what it entailed. She loved to go to the movies and think it could be her one day on the big screen. She liked when she saw people around her clap at the end of an amazing movie and think maybe, just maybe one day people would clap for her too.

The luck was on her side when the audition was to be on the same day she had her day of work. But even if she hadn’t Piper, her work friend had already made plans to change days with her just so she could go to this audition. She was the most supportive friend y/n now had regarding her dream. Let’s just say all of her friends with their big lives sometimes pitted her for still being so stuck. y/n although a very negative person in life, thought that this was just a small little bump in the road and that one day she would get what she so hard worked for.

So for the past month every time y/n had a small window of a chance she was preparing herself for this. It wasn’t her first audition, but it would be her first big audition. She new the ‘jury’ was gonna be composed of big people, including one of her favorite actors (George Weasley) and one of her favorite writers (Clara Hart), so what better mix than that? She didn’t know any. She wanted to give her best on this, to be prepared for anything they might throw at her to see how good she is. And so she tried to prepare in her head any possible scenario.

So when she opened the door gently and looked at all of them staring right at her, the confidence that she was made of suddenly disappeared, and she was left nervous and speechless until she hit the yellow line on the ground were she should stay to then perform.

“So, please state your name and date of birth please.” The director spoke, she knew that because he had a plaque in front of him with his name and his position, so had all the other. y/n let her eyes follow every person on the table, and she swallowed hard. Now in front of two of the people she liked most she felt like she would never succeed. What if she made a fool of herself? What if they just plain and simple didn’t like her? What if they wouldn’t even give her a chance to do better? Shit. Everything was coming at her, at once. y/n gave a small smile and stated her name. “Good, now please turn to page twenty on your script and we would like you to do that scene, George here is gonna do his part.”

They were choosing different scenes throughout the script to make sure they got the full view of it, but always making sure they chose scenes where George was included because they wanted to see of both people would work together. For them it was important to choose people who had some type of chemistry, so the movie itself would work out better.

y/n nodded, turned to the page in question and then look at George who was looking at the script. He was the first one to start so she was ready for him to do so. But he stayed silent, and after a few minutes talked.

“What are you waiting for?” George spoke rudely, y/n was taken aback by that.

“Ahm- i- I’m sorry but you start.” y/n spoke very quietly a little scared of his tone of voice. The director got close to George and pointed to the scene in question, he then nodded and without any warning or preparation after what he just did he stated spilling out the lines. y/n quickly got back to herself and did her part.

After they finished that and made y/n do a scene of just herself, it seemed like forever before they said something. They were writing in their papers (well, all besides George, he was just looking at them) and then they were talking very quietly in inaudible whispers between themselves. And y/n was just left standing there, her eyes looking everywhere but the jury.

“So, miss y/l/n…” The write spoke this time, she unlike the director and George, had a kind smile on her face. “We have your contact here, expect a call in the next seven business days about your situation.”

She could feel her heart beat so fast and for a second wondered if anyone else could hear it. Shit, she had never gotten that answer before. She had been rejected had soon as she had finished. But now… now she had chance, this meant she had a chance. She was elated, she couldn’t believe it. When they kept looking at her she realized she had still not spoken.

“So sorry, yes, of course, thank you so much.” She said, smiled and then went on her way, not wishing to stall them anymore given they still had a lot of people to audition. That didn’t mean she got the part, she bets a lot more girl were given that answer, but for her that momen was a big win for her.

But what if they had said that out of the kindness of their hearts because the actor had been rude to her? Had that been it? Was his action so bad that they felt bad for her and decided to giver a thread of hope? Oh no, please no, let it no be it y/n thought nervously, it couldn’t be. She wanted to believe that they had said that because she performed well and deserved a chance at the part she auditioned for.

☾☾

It had been four days. Four long and tiring business days of y/n waking up, getting dress in her sleepy state to go to work. For days of just existing at her work because her anxiety was too much for her to handle. They said seven days… but it wouldn’t actually take them that long right? They probably just had said that because they felt bad for her, and had found someone way better than her.

“y/n, please, please, stop walking around like the world is gonna end.” Piper said coming up behind y/n and putting her hands on her shoulder shaking her gently. “You are gonna receive that call, and you’re they’re going to accept you and you’re gonna leave this shitty job and get us a nice vacation somewhere sunny.” She said, earing a small laugh from y/n who then turned to her friend, teeth bitting on her bottom lip, a nervous tic she had.

“But what if they don’t? I mean do they really take this long? I mean I know they probably found a million other girls who are suitable for the part, but for days?” y/n clearly exaggerated on the ‘million part’.

“Yes they do y/n, because this is a big movie and they need to get the person to act with the George Weasley to be the best of the best. They just haven’t realized that’s you.”

“Thanks for the positivity. I’m just gonna scan this fish sticks in and the work on the toilet paper isle to take my mind of this.” y/n gave her a look of ‘thank you really’ and then left to do her things.

She was leaving work at seven, the summer breeze hitting her face, her eyes puffy from tiredness and maybe from a little bit of crying. She lived close to the supermarket so she was going on foot, the walk barely hitting the ten minute mark. But it was when she was close to her door that her phone rang. She picked it up, not looking at the ID because she thought is was piper who had forgotten something.

“Yes?” That’s all she said, before she thought piper was gonna burst in, distressed because she had forgotten something important. But the voice on the other side was male.

“Hi, is this y/n y/l/n?”

“Yes this is she, who am I speaking to?”

“Hi, I’m James, you audition for the movie I’m working on.”

The bried moment where y/n’s thought were not on the movie and so she had a small window where she didn’t feel anxious stopped completely and abruptly and her anxiety came back like crazy. Were they calling her because she hadn’t make the cut? And in the world was she, a somehow positive person, thinking the worst lately?

She thinks it’s because of the crazy amount of bills pilling up in her coffee table because her salary isn’t enough to pay all of them at once so she had to pay them given their priority and need. She usually pays rent, and with the rest of the money that’s left water or electricity. And tries to put some aside for some food, after all she had to survive.

“Ahm yes, yes, sorry.” She apologized when she realized she had stayed quiet for longer than she thought and james had asked if she was there.

“Amazing. So I don’t how to say this in other words other than, I would like you to at this address,” he stated said address “on Friday by nine does that work for you?”

“Sure, yes, but may I ask why?” y/n was lost, why did she need to be there if she didn’t even know if she got the part or not? They were trying to make her look like a fool.

“Because we’re gonna have a meeting and need the two main actors in the movie presen-“ he didn’t get to fisnish the sentence because the scream with had been holding up for what feel like forever finally got out. On the other side James had a smile on his face and his phone way from his ear.

“Thank you, thank you so much I will be there.”

And then they hang up. And for a long moment y/n stayed at the for of her apartment speechless, hands shanking like crazy, her eyes watery but a smile on her face. She got it. Her first ever movie, and a big one at that.

All those millions of auditions where she was left crying because she felt like wasn’t good enough, they now didn’t matter. Didn’t matter because she got the part. And she felt the happiest she had been in a long, long while.

☾☾

“Ok, I’ll hang up now but good luck and call me when you leave.” Piper said swifly, knowing y/n was about to enter her first ever meeting. The begging of her dream career. She hung up, put the phone in the back pocket of her jeans and breath in deeply.

She decided to not dress any of the old jeans she used for her (now old) work. So she used on of the best jeans she had, she might’ve worn them too or three times before that, and pared then with a nice blouse and one of her best jackets. Since she didn’t have anything fancy, she wore her tennis. They were kind of old but maybe no one would notice. She got close to the door and knocked three times and when a voice came from inside saying ‘come in’ she did.

She was met with a cute girl, she was the same height had y/n, she had black hair and brown eyes and was looking intensely at y/n. Next to her was George Weasley sitting in of the green colored sofas, one of his legs on top of the other and a phone in his hands.

“I’m Leah, pleasure to meet you. You must be y/n?” She nodded unable to form any kind of sentence in that moment. “I’m George’s assistant. We came in early in case you decided to arrive early as well.”

“Ahm yes, it wouldn’t look nice of me to arrive late.”

“No it wouldn’t.” George said, looking at her with hard eyes, for a moment and then back at his phone.

“Excuse him, he’s a grumpy old man when he had to get up early.” y/n tried no to laugh at that and then sat herself in the chair Leah had pointed to, and then she sat next to her.

“I made him do this because I know this is your first your first ever work related to this. And I you choose to accept some advice I’m more than willing to give it you.”

y/n couldn’t answer her in that moment because they heard the door slam hard, and when Leah looked at the sofa the place where George was empty.

“Like I said, a little moody in the mornings but no worries. Since he left we can do this in silence.” She smiled, and then proceeded to start explaining some brief stuff to y/n. y/n felt that the small amount of time she had with Leah made her felt less nervous. Leah helped her navigate through this new world and how she thought things would go for this movie. “Don’t worry about George, he’s gonna give you a hard time but I’ll give him a harder time.”

“He doesn’t really like the fact that they chose me the, I assume.” y/n gave a nervous laugh, trying to ease the moment.

“It’s not like that. George just thinks they should’ve hire an actress in a name, and experience and no someone who’s doing this first time…” She pretty much had agreed with what y/n had said, but she decided not to dwell on it much longer. “But everyone else loved the way you acted and showed a different passion in the way you acted, you are what they need for this. George just as to suck it up.”

They both laughed together, being interrupted by the door opening and George coming in with the rest of the people, James, Clara included.

“You’re already amazing, let’s get started then.” James said happily, sitting down and giving everyone a gesture to do the same. Leah stayed next to y/n, and George sat next to Leah. Because of the conversation Leah had with y/n before hand she didn’t feel as lost as ever. She understood points and things that were necessary to do. They were also talking and planning how things for the movie would work out, how y/n and George should meet to stage and act the many ,many scenes they had together. How it was important because it created chemistry and the right mood they were looking for in the movie. At the end, after they asked if anyone had any questions, they got up to leave. y/n stayed in her sit even though George had gotten up.

“I think we can take the time to talk about the meetings you both have to do.” Leah said, but she was looking at George because he was the one who was ready to leave.

“You can both talk about that, you have my schedule make her work around it.” George said, looking at Leah. “I have a date with Madison now.” Madison was a singer George had been talking and seeing for a while now.

“y/n doesn’t have to work around anything George, you both have to compromise.”

“No it’s ok, show me is schedule and I can work around it.” y/n tried to make this moment less tense, and soften the angry look Leah had. George smiled cynically and then left leaving the both alone. “Really it’s ok, I have more free time then him. We just gotta work things out so I can organize myself. I have to catch the bus and all of that so it’s better if I know before hand what to do and where to go.”

“Thank you y/n. But I’ll still have a talk with him, he cannot act like this, it’s rude and disrespectful and you are both gonna be working together so he better stop acting up.”

☾☾

“y/n is about to arrive, can you please put on some nicer clothes?” Leah exasperated, hands in the hair and her face showed stress. She had arrived about half an hour ago expecting George to be ready in some nice comfy clothes, with his breakfast eaten and ready to start whenever y/n appeared at the hour they had established. But instead George was hungover in his bed, only in his boxers, still soundly asleep. Leah had to come in, wake him up loudly and make him get is ass up from the bed to get ready. He go up still in his boxers and went down to his kitchen to eat what Leah had kindly prepared for him to eat since she knew in his state he wouldn’t prepare much less eat anything.

She watched George move lazily around his house, going to his room to dress something nicer. That ended up being some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that had some sex quote on it.

“I won’t be here while you both work on the script, but please George be nice to her. y/n is new to this and the least we can do is be nice and helpful. She’s gonna make mistakes but so do you and you are a big actor. So instead of being a dumbass, try and be just dumb.” George flipped his middle finger at her.

The door bell rang and Leah got up excitedly. She was the one who went to open the door, while George put a yellow marker and a pen on top of the script that had been sitting at the top of his dinning table for what feels like forever now.

“Hi y/n. George is in the dinning room, it’s the door to the right.” George heard Leah say and then continue. “I’m not gonna be here so you can both concentrate on the work, but…” and then he stopped listening because she lowered her voice to much for him to be able to hear. The last thing he heard was the front door to his house close and then steps that let him know y/n was getting close.

“Hi.” She said, front the door of the room, she was in comfy clothes, some leggings a sweat shirt and instead of the old shoes she had on the day of the audition she had some sandals. “beautiful house you got here.”

George wanted to growl. He wasn’t here to talk about anything else other than his work. He didn’t wish to make any other conversation other than the necessary one. So was she talking?

“We should get started. I have some meeting in the afternoon and would like for us to make some progress.” y/n nodded quickly, pulling her bag from where it rested and taking her things out. George noticed her script had already written stuff on it along with some highlighted parts. So she had been working, and George had nothing written on it and didn’t really even know where to start even after Leah had asked and warned him to work on it. y/n let her eyes fall on the papers in front of him and then to him again and when she saw the awkward look he had she felt the need to say something nice to ease whatever he might be feeling.

“Look, I took some notes of where I think we should start and something I think we should do in each part to help us get this write.” She started, and pushed her papers towards him for him to see and read. George nodded and took a look at all her little notes. She had a beautiful writing. When he nodded she continued. “Yeah? You agree?” he nodded again. “Great so let’s start.”

“You should seat first, so we’re both more comfortable.” George reminded her when he saw her still standing up.

George realized during the time they started talking that maybe he was wrong in judging her so soon. y/n knew what she was doing, she had worked hard to get everything to his liking and every time they had to try again on a scene wasn’t because of her but because of him. Because somehow he let his mind wonder a bit to much during these times, and also because she looked soft in that hoodie, we thought he could squish her gently and kiss the top of her head, and then hug her closely to him. He was gonna do all of that, the movie had more than enough scenes for them to hug, be gentle with each other and even kiss. What would it be like to kiss her? George wondered. Maybe her lips would be soft, they looked soft right now. Maybe she would taste like mint, or a fruit, like strawberry or lemon. Lemon looks like a bad choice, but he loved the sour taste of it. And her hands, what you they feel like holding his face while pulling him closer to her so they could kiss, would they be cold? Leah had told him the other day how y/n’s hand were always cold, but always soft. She moisturized.

“George? Everything ok?” George looked at her, a little embarrassed because he had zoned out on their conversation and so he had lost the last paragraph of what she said.

“Sorry.” He apologized and asked her to repeat what she had said so he could say his part.

And the meeting itself was not half had bad had George had been dreading it to be. How he thought each minute would drag out, how three hours of this would probably look like a whole day to him. No, instead, three hours felt like five minutes because y/n was easy to work with. It almost looked like she was doing this for longer than him and had more experience than him. She took this very seriously and George wanted to punch himself because he didn’t believe she would.

“So this sums it up for today.” y/n was putting all her things back in her bag, she had a content smile on her, feeling like they had accomplished so much in such little time and this being their first encounter of many before they would start shooting in just a month time.

“Yeah, we did a lot. Do you know when he have another meeting?” He felt stupid asking this, he should’ve waited and asked Leah about this, maybe then y/n wouldn’t think so low of him. Think how he couldn’t manage his time well at anything that he had to have Leah do everything for him. It was not like that, George was busy outside acting. Being as famous as he was he felt some kind of responsibility to show other famous people what it was like to do good.

He grew up poor, like so many other did, she just wanted his fame to not go to his brain. Every time he felt like that was happening to him he would go to Fred, his twin, oh boy he would definitely bring George back to reality.

“I mean it almost everyday.” She said casually, his scared face made her laugh. “I’m joking. We have another one this week and then the rest of the other weeks until filming is only once a week. But I think this went so well we have nothing to worry about. But if you do feel like we should work more just have to let Leah know, and she’ll talk to me.”

George nodded and watched her get up, all her stuff already put and she was ready to go.

“Well it was a pleasure working with you face to face for the first time Mr. Weasley, see you next time.”

And then George was left alone to all his thoughts.

☾☾

They were now only a few days way from the first day of shooting and today was the last day they had their meetings. This time Leah was present because after hearing George talk so much about how amazing it had been she needed to see for herself. In general in any of the other movies she had seen George work in he never really had any closeness to the person he was acting with. So this was a first.

“Look who it is, the man of the hour.” Leah said, she was on one side of the kitchen isle turned to the stairs in George’s apartment, and y/n had her back to him.

“Morning Leah, morning y/n.” the look y/n gave him gave him chills. He still wasn’t use to this weird feeling every time she looked at him.

After their first meeting George tried to really keep those thought to him, to not let it get to his head and ruin everything. But every time y/n came she looked even softer, even cuter and it was impossible for him to feel some type of way for her. She just squished herself in his heart and now had a small place in it. He wasn’t rude anymore.

“Leah is watching us today. My first audience.” y/n joked, making George laugh and look at Leah.

“Great. After this I think we could all for lunch. My treat?” George asked looking at both of them. “Just you know to celebrate this last era of just us, before the big part.” They both nodded agreeing to him.

☾☾

When y/n entered the studio where they were going to film for the first time, she felt small. Everything was so big and bright and everyone was talking to someone but she had arrived alone, after taking a three buses and almost loosing herself. She looked around, looking or Leah who said she would be close by the entrance to help y/n. She assumed George would already be getting ready to start shooting the scene they were to start today.

When she walked a little more people started looking at her and she started to overthink everything she did. What she wore, how she walked and if her hair was messy. Shit, it could be. The wind outside was crazy.

“Y/n come on.” Leah came up to her side and grabbed her hand, everything went so fast that she didn’t have time to see were she was being taken. Leah had been a guardian angel in all of this, helping y/n through everything and managing both her and George. “George is almost ready, and I cannot believe it, you two are gonna be amazing.”

y/n nodded nervously, and closed herself in her trailer to get ready. Everything laid out for her. And she tried not to be late, and she was able to get to the scene just in time. George taking the rest of what was left of her breath, way. He was in a back suit, green tie and his shoes were black and shinny. The scene in question was not the very first scene of the movie but something more towards the middle, so this scene had touching and some kissing. y/n had made sure she washed her mouth extra good this morning. George came in to hug her, a gesture that had became normal between both of them.

She wrapped her hands around him, they hugged each other tightly.

“You’re gonna do amazing.” He whispered in her ear, y/n shivered, George noticing it, a smile on his face.

“Ok, everyone in your place.” James said loudly. And George and y/n hurried to their places. She gave one last look to Leah who was next to James, her face happy and she gave them both a thumbs up.

y/n started to say her line. Following what the script had, George had his hands on her waist, y/n had hers on his shoulders and slowly they would go up his neck. He was leaning in close to kiss her. Although having to show a certain emotion on screen, the way her heartbeat faster with how close he got was a different emotion. She felt her hands sweat a little and wondered if he would notice when she got way from him.

George whispered something, just before their lips touched. Her fingers closing in around the fabric of his suit, tighten her grip even more when their kiss deepened. And when he pushed away his eyes never left hers.

The scene continued until a little after, so y/n had to bring herself back together and not let anyone understand how she felt after kissing George. When James yelled ‘cut’ she let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized until then she was holding.

“You did amazing.” George said, although with the amount of people around them he wasn’t scared of being a little to close to her. Although he should because rumors with any girl he was with flared up like crazy.

“Thank to you and your helpful very experienced tips.” She nudge his side and they both walked up to meet James and listen to some helpful advice from him.

☾☾

They way things were going amazing was to good to be true. George started inviting y/n after their time on set to just spend some time with him, at first the excuse was that they should work a little more on their scenes, but after the third time y/n stopped biting it and he just had do admit he genuinely wanted to spend some time with her.

So they were both longing in his enormous sofa, watching one of George’s movie because y/n had instated in doing so. George was a little embarrassed he usually never watched his own movies outside the first time they aired on the cinema. He liked to just think they didn’t existed. Not that he didn’t like the job he did, he just didn’t like to look at himself for long periods of time. But y/n had bugging him about it of for so long and the day she gave him those puppy eyes he gave in.

y/n had her legs on top of his, she was in some comfy pajamas because sometime she ended up falling asleep on his sofa and he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up and sent her home, not when she looked like a true angel. So he advised her to bring her pajamas so she would sleep comfortably.

“You look too good.” y/n laughed when a particular scene called for such statement. George rolled his eyes and looked at her.

“This is the last time I’m ever doing something like this. You watched them by yourself from now on.” He stated pretending to be angry, but y/n knew he was playing.

“Shut up, you love it. Every second of this you’re enjoying it.” She nuzzled herself closer to him but when that position of her legs on top of his was not enough closeness to her she decided to change. Turning around so now her head was on his lap and one of his hands came up to gently stroke her hair, her eyes immediately started closing, because it felt so nice and she was tired but she hadn’t realized until that moment.

“If you continue that I’m gonna fall,” she was interrupted by a yawn from her part, “I’m gonna fall asleep.” She finished, eyes already closed and her hands on the thigh she had her head on.

“It’s ok.” He whispered. She did end up doing just that and George had to get up has careful had he could as to not wake her up. Turned the tv and before he left he covered with a thick blanket and the went to his room.

It was about two in the morning when y/n woke up from a wet dream.

She was confused. Her hair was all over her face, some in her mouth. She felt sticky between her thighs and when she uncovered herself she look to see a wet spot on her pajama pants. How? How had it happen? Her and George and been close yes and friendly maybe a little to much with lingering touches and some discreet kisses when no one was looking. But was that reason for her to dream such filth? Her breathing was uneven had she got up, her brain and her legs seemingly not connecting while they guided her upstairs towards George’s room. The lights were off so he must already been asleep. With her legs still shaky she stopped at his door, it sounded so creepy to her, standing there looking at his peacefully asleep. But her body craved his touch.

“georgie?” Y/n voice called quietly while entering the room towards his bed, his king size bed. She kneeled at the bottom of the bed looking at him while his eyes slowly opened, his hands coming up to his head to rub them.

“y/n? Everything alright?” His voice was ruff and sleepy and she felt the wetness between her legs become more prominent but she tried to hide it.

“I-i woke up and can’t fall back asleep” she hadn’t even tried to do so. “Can i- can i sleep with you?” She murmured voice small and hand moving nervously in front of her.

“Of course sweet pea. Come here.” He hold the covers of his bed up so she could come in.

At first after she got in y/n stayed far from him. She was already in embarrassed of coming up here and asking him that, and he said yes so now she was in his bed his warm comfort bed.

“You can get closer, come on.” his sweet voice came from behind her, being she had back to him.

She turned around and got closer one hand under her head and the other on his arm. “Thank you.” she said a smile on her face. He gave a gentle kiss to her nose making her scrunch it up but none the less, laugh. She nuzzled even closer to him, letting her head hide in his neck, he felt her breathing there. The closeness they had made him feel hot all over his body and when a particular change of position made his uncovered leg brush close to her he felt wetness. Her breath caught in her throat. Shit had he felt it? He had to, the way his movements stoped abruptly and the way his hand squeezed her, he had.

“I’m sorry” she hurried to say, now very embarrassed because of what she had said.

“Oh my poor baby, did you have a wet dream?” She nodded unable to speak for herself. “Can I?” He asked gently his hand squeezing her also like that and when he got her agreement his hand traveled towards where she was the most warm. “Sweet thing look at how wet you are. Who made you like this?” He asked, curiosity all over his voice. The hand in his arm came to push his hair.

“You.” He was left genuinely surprised at that. He knew they were close and did things not normal for their relationship but he didn’t know she was dreaming of him like this. Hell if he knew he’d done something about it sooner because she was also filling his mind. His hand gently cupped her pussy thru the thin fabric of her bottoms, a moan leaving her mouth and her hips moving against his palm to find friction.

“So desperate.” She could feel his breath now close to her face his lips leaving kisses all over her face. ‘Tell me baby what did you dream of?’ He asked, his hand putting more pressure on her pussy, her swollen clit loving the attention. She mewled continuing the friction with her hips but now a little faster, almost like she was the one choosing the pace. ‘Nuh uh precious. You gotta tell me first, what was I doing in that dream of yours?’ He pushed his hand way stopping all contact and the broken cry that left her almost made him come back, but he wanted her to speak.

“I- you were.” she tried to speak, her voice shaky. “you were fucking me.”

“oh was I baby? And what more?”

“You- you touched me, with your hands, and they- Oh George they’re so big” The leg that was now in between hers was a great opportunity for y/n to buck her hips into it, the touch to her clit felt like it was too much and too little at the same time. He put his hands at her hips to stop her from getting her pleasure.

y/n brough her hands to his and squeezed them both, her eyes looking at him. “They’re so fucking big George shit, and your fingers.” She was so lost in pleasure that thoughts that made sense almost didn’t pass her mind. “Please.” She begged.

George felt sorry for the way she was feeling. George lets one hand slip from her face, down to her shoulder, sliding his fingers along her collarbone. He drags them down her front, dipping beneath the sheets as he cups the soft mound of her breast. A small gasp leaves her mouth, his hand rubbed against her nipples that immediately got hard from his touch. His mouth came to meet hers letting her moan into his mouth, his tongue touched hers and she felt a shiver run down the entirety of her spine. She did taste like strawberries, the ones he had imagine the first day she had come to his house, and she was soft and squishy like he dreamed of. She let her head fall back a little still kissing him, but that deepened the kiss and her hands came to roam his body staying in the line of the boxers he had.

George pushed of her and looked at her, a smile creeping up on his face. He lowered his head, and bit down on her throat while his hand went thru her pajama bottoms and her thin undergarments to finally touch her now bare pussy. She was even warmer now and the gasp that left her lips was marvelous. He gently brushed his fingers thru her pussy, he could’ve sworn he felt her clit twitch against his hands. The urge he felt then was big and he let his thumb slide against the gentle twitching button that was begging to be touched. He first rolled it gently and when mewled little a kitty he took that had a yes and then rolled again but a little stronger this time. Her legs shook wrapping around one of his legs.

“Oh sweet girl you are quivering, this is your sweet spot isn’t it?” She could only nod.

George’s cock twitched with interest again, he’s hard, he doesn’t think he felt this hard ever, and when her hands gain the courage to pull his boxers down his cock came with force slapping against his abdomen, the pre-cum that left the tip leaving them both messy with the sticky substance. He was stiff has stone beneath the sheets that now felt to much.

“Get undressed.” He said, his voice now a little less sweet and more dominant, he pushed the sheets of them because he now knew both of them were hot. And he also took the chance to finish up taking his boxers, the only piece of clothing that he had. He watched intensely as y/n tried to take her clothes of, but her shaky hands weren’t helping.

When he came down again, y/n took his hand and brought it to her chest, he understood the gesture and gave another squeeze and let, after that, his fingers wrap again around the now hard button that was her nipple and pulled, her hand opening but the pleasure consuming her was so much that the moan that was coming out got stuck in her throat.

He then let is fingers stay in her nipple while the other hand came to her pussy and he plunged two fingers into her, she was so wet that he had his hands soaking again with her juices, she was squishy inside and warm and thigh and he could only imagine how his cock would feel. The movements of his fingers in her so slow that she was bucking her hips again against him fucking herself onto him.

“Desperate, sweet pea.” He kissed her throat again and sucked on it again, the other mark from earlier already purple and this would have the same ending. “You want me to make your sweet little dream come true don’t you?”

The fingers he had inside her pick up it’s pace, her pussy convulsing and spasming around his fingers, whimpers and moans were all y/n was able to let out, her brain was mushy and no thoughts were able to form. And as with his quick pace comes a stron movement, her whimpers turn into longer moans her hands shake, she put one hand on his neck and pulled him to her kissing him hard moaning into his mouth, into his tongue.

She’s so close, he can feel it, this is the first time he’s touching her but it feels like he knows her like the palm of his hand, the way she squeezes even harder around his fingers, how her hips look to closer to him, how he knows she feels any sort of touch from him is never enough. Her orgasm is stopped when he pulls his fingers out, looking for eye contact with her before bringing his fingers coated in her wetness to her lips.

“Open baby, taste yourself.” Ans she obeyed, opening her lips slightly, just enough to wrap around his fingers and she sucked fervently on them. She brought both of her hands to hold his wrist as if telling him to stay there. The way her warm tongue enveloped his fingers had his leaking cock bloat even more with pleasure.

He took his fingers out. “Enough greedy baby, I’ll give you my cock now.”

y/n laid back letting him get on top of her, she opened her legs so he could fit in between them, her hands on his back, her fingernails scratching very lightly at his. It made George shiver and loose a little balance. One of his hands was next to her head holding himself up while the other came down to his cock, he stroked it gently a few times, biting down on his lips to suppress a moan, and then positioned himself at her entrance.

She felt his the head of his swollen cock brush up against her hole, and how he pushed in ever so gently letting them both deep in the pleasure of her cunt enveloping his cock for the first time. The moan that leaves her mouth is something out of an adult movie George is almost sure, he pulls out almost all the way before pushing back in.

“Shit-“ his moans his cut of by the pleasure cursing through his body. “So tight around me baby, just perfect for my cock.” His hands that were supporting his body came to change their position. He kneels between her legs, carefully because he was still inside her, and his hands picked up her legs bending them so she was more open to him. He begins to buck his hips against her quicker and more vigorously, their moans filing the whole room, the only sound they could hear besides the snap of his hips against her bottom, his pelvis sometimes brushed against her clit making her tighten her pussy around him.

George doesn’t hold back on his moans, and the way she feels and responds to his moans makes him know that she also likes. When she moves her hips, he bottoms out on her, his whole length inside her touching the spot that makes her shiver and quiver.

“Fuck, George- so deep.” Her hands come to her breast to touch them, moving them around and toying with her hard nipples making her pleasure even stronger. She was throbbing around him. The smile on his face is big, thrusting up into her while also letting her hips meet his, his balls slap around her bum. y/n’s thighs are tense, her orgasm is starting to build, the pressure in her lower belly starting to get stronger, her legs sometimes twitch as if they’re gonna close.

George keeps bumping into her soft, if she was wet before she’s soaking now, her juices coming from her letting a wet noise be heard, squelching noises every time his fucks into her sweet pussy.

“Sweeteste little pussy baby, can’t believe I’ve been dreaming of this and it’s even better than I dreamed of.” His hips flutter a little in his speed when he also starts to feel his own orgasm building up. She’s convulsing around him, her hands are now bunching up the sheets in her hands and she screams. “My best little girl you are, giving your all on my cock ahm?” The growl tha leaves his mouth is grutal and strong and he gives on last hard trhust agains her as she comes around his cock, her juices coating all of him and his whole cock is even wetter, the pressure from her strong orgasm pushes him out of her and his hand immediately meets his cock.

y/n locks eyes with the hand on his cock, his movement rapid and smooth knowing perfectly how to finish himself, and although she’s looking at his cock he’s looking at her, his free hand comes to one of her breasts and toys with her nipple. “Such cute tits, I’m-“ his voice breaks “i-m gonna fuck them one day, one day- shit.” He’s unable to finish his sentence as his orgasm ripples truh him, his whole body shaking and y/n has to bring her hands to help as best as she can with his fall.

Even with limp arms he tries to not put his whole weigh on her but the aftermath of his orgasm makes such thing impossible. His cum his leaving a mess between her thighs, all over that and his tummy and hers and they both feel sticky.

Sticky but happy, as her arms come to wrap around his body hugging him she feels the best she’s ever felt in a while, even with everything in her life going good. But she feels so close to him, she knows for sure she’s falling in love with the man on top of her and she couldn’t wish for anyone better.

“Thank you.” He murmured. “You are amazing.” He kissed her shoulder sweetly and y/n smiled repeating a ‘thank you’ to him.

This made everything that was to come more interesting. How they still had a whole movie to shoot, and how she knew this wasn’t the end and only the beginning of them.

#smut #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley smut

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blkmxrvel · 3 years

Text

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (25) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

She hadn’t known what to expect for the trial. She’d thought that she’d have to sit in a little box, with a judge towering over her and yelling questions. Or maybe they’d let James ask the questions, even though both Sam and Lucy had told her that wasn’t the way these sorts of trials worked. She didn’t know; she’d never been to one before. She’d watched a court show or two when she was younger, at her parents’ house, but she was pretty sure even then that that wasn’t the way real life worked.

Then again, Y/N was growing ever surer that her own life wasn’t the way real life was supposed to work.

She certainly hadn’t expected for James to be this close, so close that she could smell his cologne and the underlying hint of soap. So close that she could see his eyes, the nervous, uncertain way they would flick in her direction then back down to the table again, as if he was afraid – or ashamed – to be caught looking at someone who was “beneath” him. She hadn’t expected the fear, the revulsion that had welled up within her at knowing that the man who had tormented her for years was now, once again, within mere feet of her.

She hadn’t expected to find herself hating him.

The only thing that gave her comfort, even more than sitting with Sam on one side and her lawyer on the other, was knowing that Miss Kara was also a few feet away, sitting in the gallery with Lena and watching her with kind, proud, protective eyes.

Miss Kara had kept the blanket fort up for a few days, and she and Y/N had slept in it the night previously – but only after Miss Kara had bought an air mattress.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” she’d said, a determined look in her eyes that made Y/N fall in love with her just a little more.

She hadn’t really been able to get much sleep; she’d tossed and turned with images of the trial not letting her close her eyes for more than a few moments. Finally Miss Kara had had enough – they both needed to rest so they would be in top form, she’d said, her voice gentle but authoritative. She’d held Y/N close in her arms and sang into her ear, softly, soothingly, until finally Y/N was able to settle down and get a few hours of sleep.

Nothing had really prepared her for seeing James in the courtroom. Even having Kara on one side, Sam, Lena, and Lucy on the other, did little to quell Y/N’s nerves. The moment she saw him, it all came rushing back.

And then, listening to the reasons for why he had done what he had… was that enough? She found herself wondering. Would it all excuse what he had done to her? She hated that for a brief moment while listening to James’s testimony, her heart had ached for him. The little boy, his family in turmoil and ultimately being abandoned by the father… She could only imagine what James had gone through, what he had thought, how he must have blamed himself. For just a few minutes, Y/N could see the scared boy that James had been. And yet, the boy that he had been was quickly overshadowed by the instruments he had used, the angry scowl of his voice as he beat her. The pain, the bruises, the broken bones…

But at least that’s why she was there – to give voice to her own worst memories.

They had decided that, rather than having Y/N prepare her own statement, she was better at questioning, a call-and-response testimony that kept her head clear and focused, and her answers concise. So Lucy Lane’s voice was soft, gentle as she asked the first question.

“Y/N, what was it like when you first met James Olsen?”

She hadn’t been sure about Lucy at first. There was something too flighty about her, a goofiness that had made Y/N wonder if the thin lawyer with the outlandish clothes was really dedicated to her case. But Sam had sworn by her, and the loud chomping of gum while she pored over the notes to Y/N’s case was offset by the look of sheer determination in Lucy’s eyes, and that had made her feel better. Plus she had seen the tender way Lucy had interacted with her submissive when her boy had brought them all lunch one day, and that had done even more for Y/N’s trust.

“He was nice,” Y/N admitted, toying with the hem of her shirt and looking down at the table. “I saw him… a couple of times when we were kids and he always seemed nice. Really… tall.”

Across from her, James snorted, and Y/N smiled a little.

In another life, would they have known each other? If they hadn’t been matched up by her parents and his – before his father left – would they have ever run into each other? On the street, or in a crowded supermarket. Would she have been charmed by his eyes, by the smile that only seemed to lift one side of his face, by his awkwardness hidden under a sense of false bravado?

Or would she have known to stay away from him? Would she have known that he wasn’t a “nice boy,” as her mother had said; that instead he was a spoiled child who made himself out to always be the victim? That he would try to sway Y/N to feel sorry for him even as he was hurting her, that it was, and would always be, only about James’s happiness, James’s dreams, James’s goals (or lack of), everything James wanted?

Perhaps she would’ve met Miss Kara first. Y/N glanced back out to the gallery and smiled, seeing her in the front row again, watching them. Y/N had been scared when Miss Kara had run out, afraid that she wouldn’t come back. It didn’t matter that Sam was on one side of her and Miss Lane on the other; Y/N only ever felt really safe knowing Miss Kara was there with her.

“Can you tell us what your first day with him as your Dominant was like?”

She’d known this was coming. Sam had held her as she cried, the first time she’d described what that day had been like with him. But it was different, telling one person. How was she meant to describe it to a room full of people? But Y/N took a deep breath and focused on Miss Kara, who gave her yet another reassuring smile.

“He was nice, at first,” she explained. “We were both… nervous. I mean we were just sixteen and I don’t think he was very sure of himself so I knelt d-down and I said that I would help him as much as I could, that I was there for Sir, that I was his.”

“And what did he do?”

Y/N shook her head. “I-I can’t-“

Sam’s hand closed over hers and squeezed, and Y/N glanced at her gratefully. She wasn’t Miss Kara, but it helped.

“We need you to,” Miss Lane said gently. “What did James do when you knelt for him and expressed your desire to help him?”

She closed her eyes.

“He slapped my face and said he didn’t need my help. Then he adjusted my stance because he didn’t like the way I was kneeling, and I had to stay that way for a while. An hour or two.”

“Will you tell us what your life was like, from that day on?”

Y/N sighed. “Have you ever felt,” she said quietly, “like no matter what you do, you’ll never get it right? No matter how much of a g-good girl you try to be, it isn’t good enough? I tried so hard, and I always made a mess of things. I didn’t kneel right. I didn’t cook his favorite things well. I was too smart, then too dumb. I talked too much, didn’t talk enough. Didn’t cry, screamed too loud, I was too n-needy. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him.”

“Okay,” Miss Lane said, carefully stopping the flow of words that threatened to send Y/N out of control. She breathed in, shakily, and concentrated on the table again.

She was glad that Lucy had said she wouldn’t ask any sexual questions; Y/N wasn’t sure she could handle those, not yet anyway. It was hard enough to talk to Miss Kara about things like that, even if things between them were growing steadily more intense with each passing day. It was getting even harder for Y/N to deal with her emotions, things she’d never felt before, wasn’t even sure she was allowed to feel. Things like need. Desire. Miss Kara was always telling Y/N to be open with her feelings, but sex… wasn’t anything that was ever discussed in the Hastings household, and in the Olsen household it was more of… a chore. Something that had to be done to keep him happy.

To close her eyes as he always took her from behind, because he said looking at her face ruined the mood.

At least it had never lasted long. At least he had never lasted long.

Miss Lane moved on to the questions about James’s physical treatment of her. The beatings, the broken bones (and here she offered into evidence numerous medical reports), the missed meals. Kneeling for hours on a hard tile floor. Sleeping in a corner of a dark, cold bedroom with little more than a sheet for comfort. Being humiliated in front of his friends.

Y/N told it all.

Everything she had held inside herself, kept hidden for years… it didn’t matter that Miss Kara wasn’t sat right beside her. Y/N looked out into the gallery, locking her hazel eyes with the soft, tear-filled brown ones that she loved… and told it all. She took a deep breath, dug deep and quietly repeated the words to herself, the words that first Sam had told her when she’d sobbed in her arms that day, and then Miss Kara had reiterated hours later.

It’s not your fault.

“Why did you never use your safe word?”

Y/N cocked her head at Miss Lane. “Safe word?” she repeated, feeling a little dumb.

Lucy Lane nodded. “The safe word that you and James agreed upon.”

“But we didn’t,” Y/N said, confused.

“You didn’t have a safe word established?”

It was one of the tenets of their society, Y/N knew. Well, she knew that now. Before, she hadn’t known that safe words and contracts, mutual agreements, were actually a thing. Growing up she had always been taught that her Sir was to be pleased, he was to be obeyed, and her own needs would be met if she did those things.

She wasn’t told what to do if those needs weren’t met.

“No, I didn’t have a safe word,” she answered, and once again her eyes met Miss Kara’s. “Not with James.”

“So your contract didn’t establish the usage of safe words?”

Contract. An agreement between two or more parties for the doing or not doing of something specified. An agreement enforceable by law.

Miss Kara had told her that just a year before Y/N had been “matched” with James, the government had established that contracts were “necessary and advisable” within their society. Every couple, once a claim was made, was required to go and file a contract, with an itemized listing of rules and regulations, the safe words that were to be used, and punishments that would be enforced within the context of the relationship. It was meant to facilitate stronger protection for submissives; Miss Kara’s voice had grown sad when she said that she wasn’t sure it had worked. If it had, there wouldn’t have been a need for places like McKinley House.

Y/N shook her head. “We didn’t have a contract.”

Lucy’s hand paused over the paper on which she was scribbling notes and she glanced at Y/N, then at James. “No contract?”

It was all for effect, Y/N knew. They’d been over this before; Miss Lane knew there had been no safe words, no contract. Nothing in writing to establish Y/N’s role in the relationship, nothing that outlined how James ought to care for Y/N, and how she should respond in kind. It was Lucy’s plan of attack: show that James, while not caring for Y/N and being abusive, had also actually broken the law. This, she said, would virtually guarantee their win.

Y/N wasn’t sure about that; Judge Schott looked like he was ready to fall asleep.

“No contract.”

“No safe word?”

“No,” Y/N said again. “I had no safe word, and no contract. I didn’t… have anything.”

“So how did you keep safe?”

Y/N sighed, and shook her head again. “Obviously I didn’t,” she said, unable to keep the slight edge from creeping into her voice. She looked over at James, and her heart plummeted a little when she saw the smirk on his face.

It was the smirk he always wore, just before… she curled her fingers against the table, grasping lightly and reminding herself of the other thing Miss Kara and Sam had told her.

He can’t hurt you.

“So you lived in a relationship with a man who broke the law by refusing to employ a contract and safe words, and subsequently abused you frequently? We could even say, every day of your life with him.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes.”

Lucy Lane gestured toward Mrs. Allen-West, effectively ending her questioning of Y/N.

She steeled herself as she smiled at her. She was pleasant enough, Y/N decided, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still the enemy.

“Miss Hastings,” she said easily, “Could you tell us about the house you shared with James Olsen, please?”

She resisted rolling her eyes, wondering if every lawyer was an expert in redundancy. “He was never happy,” she began to explain again. “Nothing I ever did was right, no matter how ha—“

“No,” James’s lawyer interrupted, and Y/N flinched slightly at her raised voice. “I am referring to the house itself. What was it like?”

Y/N drew back a little, confused. “Okay, I guess?” she said uncertainly. “A little small?”

“Not as nice as the one you grew up in?”

“No,” Y/N answered, suddenly a little nostalgic for the large house with its big rooms and soft couches, even softer beds with snuggly blankets. She still wasn’t sure where Allen-West was going with her line of questioning, but she already wished she’d stop. The last thing she wanted to remember during a trial was her former home. Her parents – she hadn’t heard from them in years. And her grandfather…

She missed him so much. He’d have protected her.

“So the house was small.” Y/N was sure that the woman with the perfect hair and dapper tie meant to be kind, but her voice was condescending, as if she were talking to a small child. You’re probably a bratty sub, Y/N thought, and not the kind Miss Kara seems to like. Probably one that throws a temper tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way.

“Was it also comfortable?”

“Yes?”

If Iris Allen-West detected any malice in Y/N’s answer, she didn’t let on as he continued. “Warm in the winter, cool in the summer?”

“Yes.”

“You stated that Mr. Olsen would sometimes make you sleep on the floor.” Y/N nodded, not bothering to verbally respond. She’d already stated as much. “Were you naked when you slept on the floor?”

“Sometimes.”

“But the house was warm.”

“Yes.”

“Were you given a pillow, a sheet?”

“A pillow. And a sheet. Sometimes a blanket in the winter.”

“And you stated that every now and then he’d let you sleep on the bed.”

“The foot of the bed,” Y/N clarified, adding in a mutter, “Like a dog.”

Allen-West nodded, seeming thoughtful, and then smiling at Y/N again. “Were you ever homeless, Miss Hastings?”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand—“

She interrupted her again, leaning forward, and Sam put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as Y/N scooted her chair back an inch.

“In the time that you were with Mr. Olsen, did he ever force you out onto the street, were you ever homeless?”

“No?” Was there a point to all this, Y/N wondered.

But then, with Iris Allen-West’s next question, her defense of James Olsen became clear.

“Y/N, would you ever say that you deserved your punishments?”

Her mouth dropped open a little. “W-what?”

That same damned smile, mirrored by the smirk on James’s face. “You’re a submissive,” his lawyer said smoothly. “Your dominant owns you; his duty is to train you, to make you your better self, to punish you whenever you don’t live up to his expectations. Did you live up to his expectations?”

“I-I didn’t deserve it,” Y/N said shakily. “Not that- not what he-“

“So everything you did was correct?” his lawyer pressed. “You were always good, always obedient, you never smarted off to him, you never broke a rule, and you never left him dissatisfied?”

She could feel the panic start to rise, the endless doubt that had been ever present each day for the last few years, that had only just began to fade, with the persistent gentleness and care of Miss Kara. The feeling that she was always wrong, that she was bad and disobedient, a horrible sub, because she could never do anything right.

“I-I tried,” Y/N said, hearing that her voice was bordering on pleading. “Every day I tried, to do what he wanted to, and I couldn’t—I never—“

“So you admit it, then?” His smile seemed almost feral now, menacing, and when had he stood up, leaning forward on the table, almost towering over her despite how short he was?

“You admit that you were a less than acceptable submissive. You admit that James Olsen frequently had to correct you in ways he saw fit, ways that were permissible because he is your Dominant.”

Now Judge Schott was sat up in his chair, his expression rapt as he listened to Allen-West attack Y/N with gusto.

“You admit that though he was severe, though he may have punished you in ways you didn’t like, that it wasn’t always about you, it was sometimes about James, as a good relationship should be. And the fact that you were never lacking for food, for clothing, for adequate and comfortable housing. And the fact that he was actually a very good Dominant, dedicated to you and your well-being, dedicated to training you in the best way he knew ho—“

“He wasn’t a good Dominant!” Y/N snapped, slamming her hand onto the table. “Not like Miss Kara!”

She was aware that the room had gone quiet. That Schott seemed suddenly interested in her, as did two men in suits sitting in the back of the room. That Sam had softly sworn “Oh, fuck” under her breath, and that Miss Kara was suddenly fidgeting in her seat and Lena had placed a steadying hand on her knee.

The gesture made her irrationally jealous, but Y/N plowed forward, her trembling voice suddenly loud and echoing in the silent court chamber.

“He beat me every day,” she said. “Until I cried, until I screamed. He broke… my bones. Me. I-I didn’t deserve that. And Miss Kara—“

“Y/N,” Lucy put her hand on Y/N, but Y/N shook it off with a glare.

“She’s good. She’s good and gentle and even when I’m ba—even when I’m naughty she’s still soft when she corrects me. She puts me in the corner or… she made me scrub the floor two days ago but she sat in the kitchen with me. She doesn’t beat me, ever, and she won’t.”

“She’s nothing like you,” she spat out toward James. “I may not be a good submissive but you’re not a good Dominant either. Not like her. Not like my Miss Kara.”

She fell quiet then, hating the way Allen-West quirked one extremely forest-resembling eyebrow and said to Judge Schott, “I believe I have made my case, Your Honor.”

The words dismissing them for a recess while he rendered his decision barely registered to Y/N’s ears; she sat numbly in her seat as Sam and Lucy stood up and tried to coax her to go out into the hallway with them. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d done something horribly wrong, because everyone was looking at her strangely and even Miss Kara seemed unnaturally pale as she came up and took Y/N’s hand, pulling her to her feet and leading her out into the hall with the others.

“M-Miss Kara?” Y/N queried softly, but the smaller woman shushed her with a finger against her lips and a tender look.

“I am so proud of you,” Miss Kara said, and Y/N relaxed when she pulled her into a hug. Y/N rested her chin on Miss Kara’s shoulder and breathed in, letting out most of the tension she’d felt since that morning.

“Really?”

“Really,” Miss Kara assured her, her hand in Y/N’s hair. “You were so brave up there, and you didn’t back down.” She kissed Y/N’s cheek gently.

“You were such a good girl.”

“You did good, kid,” she heard Sam say, and felt the light thump on her back, and Y/N giggled. She nuzzled further into Miss Kara, tightening her arms around her, enjoying the closeness and the comfort… until she heard an unfamiliar sound, a strange clearing of a throat.

She backed away from Miss Kara slowly, feeling the panic again as they both were confronted with the two men in suits, who had been sitting in the back row.

Miss Kara had stiffened, though her arm was still firm and secure around Y/N’s waist as she regarded the men.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here,” she said easily, casting a glance to her side as Alex and Allen-West walked past them, James in between.

“She is a member of Mt. Overland House, of course we would be here,” one of the men replied, looking down at Kara.

“She is Y/N Hastings,” Miss Kara said, and Y/N felt a swell of pride.

She was Y/N Hastings.

The other man nodded coolly, regarding Miss Kara, before saying, “We’ll see you tomorrow in our office, Miss Zor-El. I’m sure you know what we’ll be discussing.”

Miss Kara rolled her eyes as they walked away. “Of course they wouldn’t stay for the verdict,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s not like they actually care for Y/N’s well-being. It’s all for show with them.”

“Kara,” Lena said, a warning tone in her voice. “Now is not the time to make enemies of your bosses.”

Bosses? Y/N drew away slightly as the realization dawned on her.

The men were Miss Kara’s bosses at the Society. Her government bosses. And Y/N had just blurted out about her Miss Kara…

“Oh, no,” she whispered with a feeling of dread. “I-I didn’t—Miss Kara, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, I’m sorry!”

“No, no, Y/N,” Miss Kara said firmly, even though her voice shook ever so slightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, little one.” She led Y/N over to a bench and sat down with her, gently rubbing her back.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated. “And they can’t do anything to me.”

Y/N looked at Miss Kara, doubtful. The way everyone seemed to be acting strange, acting worried, and the way even Miss Kara’s face looked pinched and strained seemed to tell an entirely different story.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Miss Kara said, and pulled Y/N closer to her.

“Do you think he’ll… do you think I did okay?”

“I know you did okay,” Miss Kara said. “You did more than okay.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “But do you think it was enough?”

“Y/N, Kara,” Lucy said, coming down the hall toward the door to the courtroom, followed a few steps behind by Alex, James, and James’s lawyer. “Come on, we’re back in session.”

Y/N sat up in shock. They’d only been recessed for ten minutes. It was too early…

Miss Kara glanced at her, and Y/N knew that she felt the same way. It was too early.

“I guess we’re about to find out, little one.”

#madi converts #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #supergirl x reader #HFMWH

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

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The Mandalorian Chapter 11 reactions; the ‘the sea is a harsh mistress’ edition

- on first watch this wasn’t really one of my favorite episodes. I think it’s something to do with... one of the many things I love about the mandalorian is how it made the star wars universe feel HUGE. big and surprising and unknowable, there could be fucking anything out there man we don’t know. so having first bo katan show up and then ahsoka being set up right after (quite aside from who’s rumoured to play her, which is an entirely different can of wormy beans) in additon to opening the season on tatooine... eh. I’m not that into it, it feels like shrinking the world. we haven’t even gotten to see any other type of force user yet. it is only early/mid season tho so they’re probably going to pull some unexpected twists on us

my opinion might change with rewatches too, that happens quite a bit with this show!

🎶I’VE COME TO TALK WITH YOU AGAIN🎶

honestly I had kind of a hard day yesterday and watched this the next morning and kept pointing tiredly to the crest like ‘it me tho’

- I was unreasonably happy about seeing the calamari flan again hahaha he’s been keeping that shit in his pockets for a season and a half now (didn’t he pay with some at one other point too?)! also the sound effects for them are SO EXCELLENT, I keep thinking about how well this show does texture which is wild considering how it’s filmed

- the warm pat din gave frog lady’s arm when he thanked her and said goodbye 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I love the small ways he’s thawing

my heart ached so much for him at this point, he just looks so small and tense and lost, like a kid who’s lost his parents in a supermarket

(he keeps his hand on the blaster the whole time too so he knows this is a bad scene but now they’re right out in the middle of the ocean already soooo)

- din’s very very very dry sense of humour is so blessed. ‘a bowl of chowder for my friend’ faklhfsadkjlfhsadkjhfsd

the baby’s look when he poked the squid thing with his knife too -- yodito’s like ‘dad is a wizard??’ haha. some good baby & dad stuff in this one

- oh din... side quest boy, side quest booooooyyy

- the shot when bo katan helped him out of the water is perfectly mirroring the scene of bb!din being pulled up to safety by the mandalorian in the flashback, which seems Very Intentional

I Extremely Do Not Trust Her in the larger scale tho. I think it’s important that din knows now that he was raised in a very specific offshoot of the mandalorians ant that there’s some Stuff he hasn’t been told, but I also think it’s crucial to remember that her pov is not unbiased either and she, in fact, already has an established tendency to selectively share information with him to manipulate him into fulfilling her goals. (which he realizes because he keeps saying ‘that is not my mission, my mission is the child’ and I could not love him more). hell, I’m not sure exactly how ‘the children of the watch’ were positioned within death watch, but she was fucking death watch too for the longest time! and she hardly left for particularly noble reasons, she just didn’t like maul! she already lost mandalore like twice, do we just have to trust that third time’s the charm or what!

she lied to him about the scope of the mission to force him into a position to do what she wanted (fully knowing he’s responsible for a child!!) and she called that ‘the way’ just as easily as the thing about not letting his bravery be forgotten! big red warning lights, NO! I think the thing is that din is having to find his own ‘way’ of being mandalorian (/how does one be a person exactly help?? relatable content, and he’ll get there in the end I’m sure he’s so good), but her way is no less fucked up to me than the children of the watch from what we’ve seen so far. she’s good at killing imperials though which is of course a mark in her favour

(considering that the episode gives her the epithet ‘the heiress’... yeah that’s probably a hint that she’s loyal first and foremost to her entitlement, getting the position she considers hers by right of inheritance. guess we’ll see if the text agrees with her)

- ‘mandalorians are stronger together’ yeah that’s probably why the cosmic balance makes sure they’re mostly engaged in being at each other’s throats lol

- so I might be feeling kind of sketch about these guys but on the other hand... when that one lady saved the baby and then promptly took off her helmet to reveal she looks like t h i s ?

you better BELIEVE I was ready to fall down on one knee and propose right then and there holy shit

- ...wow if he didn’t have the jet pack din probably would have just sunk like a rock and drowned there huh 😨 that armour’s pretty heavy, turns out

- in happier news: din has become so good��at reading what the child is expressing and responding/labeling the feeling for him! that’s so important to his development! ‘I know you’re hungry’ and both telling and showing him there’s a solution! still a bit of an issue that he thinks he can inform the baby of things like it’s a reasoned adult and have it understand, but we’re getting there we’re getting there lol

- that poor lady guiding them in for landing and sounding more and more worried fhkasjdlhfkjsdlahf (and he fucking TURNS OFF THE RADIO or whatever he’s using to talk to her through sdkfhaksdfhjs he takes a precious split second just to cut her off asfdjhaslkdfsdfhsda I love my salty dad)

- when the fisherman asshole tells mando he knows where to find more of his people there’s the tinkling bell sound in the background music, I think it’s meant to convey almost childlike longing for belonging and connection, for finding someone who’ll know what to do?

- when they took off their helmets and baby looked up at din like ‘???dad what the fuck? can you do that???’. (or like he just sensed his father taking a shitload of psychic damage all in one go)

- the way din didn’t start breathing again until they got the baby up from the water and he had him in his arms... the way he held him... sladfhasdklfhsjakdhfjsakldhfsakjldhfsjkadhfjaskdhfskajdhfjsdakhfslakhfskladhfsakljdhfjskadlhfkjsld

that whole scene was like a nightmare, so desperately unpleasant, in a way it mirrors the way the mandalorians have been hunted down and pummeled these last few generations, this must sort of be what it feels like to him subconsciously

- din isn’t particularly inflexible as a person, after the initial kneejerk rejection he did listen to what they said and is carefully considering it (he did say ‘this is the way’ back at the end!)

- the baby’s babbling when he wakes up and looks around in the beginning sounds half like ‘baba?’ and I almost had a heart attack

- loved how greasy and awful and dumb all the empire dudes were (and the comedy on board the ship too it was good for me)

- the boob plates huh. shit they’ve shown with the armorer that they don’t have to do that in any way shape or form and they still brought the boob plates back :/ I guess it’s so they match up with the rebels/clone wars look, evoking that ~*era*~ and everything, but I don’t have to like it lol

- I feel so validated in my theory that the razor crest is symbolic of din’s sense of self (now with beautifully added commentary!) after this haha (and also so so scared now they might be ditching it for a new ship eventually). it’s in pieces, his world view is going to pieces and can’t be patched together the way it was before, from what he knows he’s about to deliver the baby to someone else who’ll understand/love/deserve him better (I do think that feeling is still in him) and he doesn’t even have the certainty of the code anymore to fill the void. oh buddy.

the discomfort I felt when we got back into the cockpit -- into where it’s supposed to be familiar and safe! -- and saw all the ocean junk lying around, making it feel weird and changed and dirty (it probably smells like rotten seaweed in there now :( no likey)... I mean it was also very funny to see the pilot’s chair held together with a literal fishing net, but please favreau leave my dad’s car/ego alooooone

- baby laughing his little bum off at din catching the small sea monster before it got him and then munching it......... the ‘there’s nothing in this world my dad can’t fix’ safe energy.......... I’m so scared we’re coming up on something din can’t fix

- knitwear in star wars: I didn’t know I wanted it, but I am ELATED with having been given it

- moff gideon’s amazing evil voice... back in our ears, in our hearts, I gleefully hate him

- at least din’s armour is clean again after that (awful) swim? one must appreciate some silver linings along the way I suppose

- din goes straight for the main pilot’s seat once they get the imperial out of it, so he must feel really secure that he’s probably the best man for the job; he is genuinely a good pilot! (and after this I am wondering even MORE who taught him. who raised you within the mandos din??)

- even while everything is new and scary and falling apart we can live safe in the knowledge that at least frog lady and frog husband had a good day and will have a good and happy frog life together with their frog children

couple goals tbh

(I don’t necessarily know how it works for frog people but I uh. guess they got busy quickly huh hahaha good thing mando didn’t turn up again until later)

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #I've mostly seen people love this episode so I feel a bit like a buzzkill about mostly being 'meh' about it but what can you do lol #I actively disliked a lot of the clone wars mando stuff so I'm biased I suppose

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calm-and-wine · 4 years

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(I’ll give you) the best years

PART VI / EPILOGUE (masterlist)

here we are, the last part, more of an epilogue really. it’s quite short, but it also felt right, so hopefully you won’t be too disappointed.

as it is the end, i want to say the biggest thank you to everyone who has read and interacted with my little story. i’m so glad you loved and accepted Nulu, it truly means the world. also, if you’d ever wonder about anything or want to talk about this little family, please feel more than welcomed to pop into my inbox! i love you all, happy reading!

PART VI / EPILOGUE

September 2030

Lucy was tired, but content. She was probably supposed to be wiped out, sleeping for hours on end would be acceptable too. After spending over 8 hours yesterday in the car with children, a whining almost 4 years old and a fussy 6 months old, she had every reason to feel half dead. Even though Niall provided her a little break, sending her grocery shopping while he watched the kids, she was still half dead. She actually really liked going to the supermarket, might have even spent extra long roaming the aisles, just to get a bit more alone time. She loved her children, of course she did, but everyone needed a small break once in a while.

But none of that stopped her from getting up early, starting the preparations, then waking the kids before they started crying, and doing the rest of cooking with both her daughters in tow. She was in a great mood, any tiredness or lack of sleep forgotten. After all, it was Niall’s birthday. And her husband deserved all the good things, always.

“Mummy, can I decorate? I wanna make them all pretty.” Evelyn, her eldest asked, her big blue eyes pleading, just in case her mum declined. It was almost impossible to say no to her when she looked at someone like that, a power she was perfectly aware of. Sometimes Lucy could not believe she wasn’t even four yet, she was way too smart.

“Sure, Eve, but just a few, okay? We’ll put the fruits and everything else on the table, so everyone can make their own.” She put a few pancakes on a plate before placing it in front of her daughter. Evelyn was nothing if not helpful. Lucy looked to her other side, where Olivia was sitting in her high chair, playing with her teddy and a wooden spoon. Apparently there were no better toys than kitchen appliances or whatever else you could find lying around the house.

There was soft music playing in the background, the last of the pancakes sizzling in the pan, a bubble of excitement fluttering in Lucy’s stomach. Life was good, better than good. She had everything she could have ever wanted, more than she even dared to dream about. Sure, it wasn’t always perfect and it definitely wasn’t easy, but they were healthy, and most importantly, there was a lot of love to hold it all together.

Evelyn was born on the 14th of December 2026 and neither Lucy nor Niall knew what to do with the happiness and love bursting through them for this perfect little bundle they created. In the following months, Lucy was very glad Niall was home, because no matter how peaceful she might have looked, Evelyn was no angel. And Lucy would probably lose her mind, if it weren’t for him. He worked in the studio with the boys, but it wasn’t any crazy schedule, just slowly putting songs together, always making sure not to put too much on his wife’s shoulder. She was also very glad he convinced her to go ahead with the training centre, which opened in February of 2027, because it became a source of normality for her, a reason to leave the house and clear her mind, usually for a few hours twice a week.

One Direction released their second album since reactivating in September of 2028 and then embarked on a tour, Lucy and Evelyn joining them for most of it. It was crazy at times, but Niall said nothing would ever beat standing on stage in front of thousands of people and turning your head to see your wife and kid dancing hidden on the side stage. She found out she was pregnant again on that very tour. They weren’t really trying for another kid, but they also weren’t actively preventing anything, just letting the universe work however it wanted to. So, on the 14th of March this year, Olivia was born. She was much calmer than her sister, which Lucy took as a blessing, only hoping it wouldn’t come doubled as a toddler rebellion or something. And once again, Niall finished tour early December, spending the last couple of months of her pregnancy home, helping her and being her rock, then enjoying another newborn bliss together. The band came back to work since, once again popping into the studio every once in a while, but there was no rush. Harry welcomed his second child recently, joking that Niall should pick up his pace, because he had been married way shorter, yet they had the same number of offsprings, his kids only a year apart.

But for Lucy and Niall, there was no rush. She loved what they had, had felt this way for years upon years, pure contentment. She couldn’t even pinpoint a moment when she wanted something more than she already had, since she started dating Niall, not really.

She put the last pancakes on the plate, the ones Evelyn decorated were already placed at the table, so she picked Olivia up, settling her on her hip, grabbing Evie’s hand and going upstairs. Her eldest giggled excitedly, letting go of her mum’s hand as soon as she opened the door to the master bedroom and sprinting before jumping on the bed. Lucy only hoped she wouldn’t land on Niall or kick him in the ribs. There was no stopping her when she got like this, though.

“Dada! Wake up! It’s your birthday!” she screamed, jumping up and down on the bed.

Niall hummed, scrunching his eyes for a second, which earned him a giggle from his daughter, before opening them and instantly grabbing her to bring her down on top of him, tickling her before blowing a raspberry on her stomach.

“Hello, pumpkin,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek, her eyes glistening and a huge smile showing all of her teeth.

“We made breakfast, you have to hurry,” she said proudly, going to stand up on the bed, Niall’s hands instantly going up to secure her in case she lost balance. He sat up looking at his wife, who stood near the doorway, their other daughter tucked in her arms, hiding her face in her neck. Their daughters couldn’t have been more different, Evelyn was a natural firecracker, while Olivia seemed timid and shy, he couldn’t wait to see them grow into two amazing women. “Dada!” Evelyn pulled on his hand, rushing him.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up, Evie,” he laughed, standing up and helping her down from the bed. He grabbed a sweater to cover his bare chest, barely managing to pull it over his head, before Eve started pushing on his leg, trying to make him move. “Go ahead, I’m right behind you,” he said, which earned him a huff.

“Just not too fast, bub,” Lucy reminded, when Eve rushed out of the room.

Niall stopped in front of his wife, a huge smile on his face, his hair a complete mess and his eyes still sleepy.

“Happy birthday, baby,” she said, when he wrapped an arm around her, planting a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” Niall said, giving her another peck, before kissing the daughter in her arms on the head. “And you, what got you all shy, bug?” he asked, pinching her leg lightly. Olivia finally looked at her dad, twisting in Lucy’s arms and reaching for him. Niall laughed lightly, taking her from his wife and tickling her before she let out the most beautiful giggle and hid her face in his neck. She was too cute. Both their daughters were absolutely adorable and as much as he loved it and was a proud dad, it sometimes made it hard being a parent.

“Come on, or Evie will lose her mind and the pancakes will get cold,” Lucy said, intertwining her fingers with Niall’s free hand and leading them downstairs.

“I really don’t know where she gets her lack of patience from.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Lucy snickered, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Okay, so maybe I have a slight idea,” he chuckled, “but I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah, but you’re also not 4.”

He looked at his wife, both their eyes glistening with glee. “Point taken.”

They reached the kitchen and Niall stopped in the doorway surprised. It was more than he expected, the table was perfectly set, fresh fruit, chocolate and maple syrups, bacon and even whipped cream laid out, along with a stack of pancakes way too big for them.

He looked at his wife incredulously. “You did all that? With two kids to look at?” he asked, forever in awe of his wife.

“They were on their best behaviour,” she assured.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek.

“Dada! I helped! And I have a present for you!” Evelyn said, practically jumping by the kitchen table.

Niall put Olivia in her high chair, while Lucy shook her head at their eldest’s antics. They were supposed to have cake and give him presents later, but at this point she wasn’t even surprised Evelyn couldn’t wait.

“Okay, come here then,” Niall said, sitting in a chair, grabbing Eve and sitting her on his lap. “Oooh you made me a card?” he asked, his voice excited, when his daughter handed him a colorful piece of paper.

“Mumma helped with spelling,” she noted, looking up at him with the biggest smile.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. We’re gonna hang it back home. Thank you, pumpkin.” His heart was so full, he couldn’t even comprehend it. He kissed her cheek, then the other, then the crown of her head, until she giggled.

“Can we hang it here until we leave?” Evelyn asked, looking at him with her usual big eyes. They came to their house in Ireland for a few days to change the scenery. And because Lucy always tried to get him here for his birthday, knowing how much he loved his home country. He appreciated the gesture a lot, even though now his home was wherever his family was, the place didn’t matter much.

“Of course,” he assured, placing the card on the edge of the table so it wouldn’t get dirty. “Let’s eat now, yeah?”

She nodded, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. She was a perfect mix of Niall and Lucy, the hair was all her mother’s, but the eyes were just like her dad’s. She made a move to get off his lap, but he secured an arm around her waist to keep her with him.

“Don’t leave me, it’s my birthday!” he said dramatically, earning himself another chuckle. It was his favourite thing to do, trying to make his girls laugh, all three of them.

Lucy finally moved, going to make some coffee for him, taking a minute to watch her family, while it was brewing. They were all in pajamas, Evelyn wearing a blue robe with pink hearts on it, Niall in plaid bottoms and a sweater, she was wearing cotton pants as well, with Niall’s hoodie. He was feeding Olivia, her high chair turned towards him, while making sure Evie didn't fall off his lap, completely adored by his daughters, just as much as he adored them.

“Hey, come eat,” he said, looking at her, a lopsided smile on both their faces.

She nodded, pouring the coffee and bringing it over for him, before sitting herself on the other side, so she could admire her family.

The house was filled with chatter and giggles, Lucy and Niall’s eyes shining with emotions, the smiles constant on their faces. When they ate over half of the pancakes and their bellies were full, cheeks hurting from laughing, she got up to clean up a bit, hanging Eve’s card up on the fridge. Niall got up too, placing Evie on his chair, and came up to do the washing, ignoring Lucy’s protest that he shouldn’t do any cleaning on his birthday, while she put the leftovers into the fridge.

When they were both done, he pulled her into his body, before they joined their kids. They should get dressed and go out for a walk, but he wanted a minute with his wife.

“I love you so much, Lulu,” he said softly, after kissing her, their first proper kiss of the day.

“Love you, baby,” she reciprocated, raking a hand through his hair.

He stood with his arms around his wife, planting soft kisses across her face and on her neck, while watching the kids over her shoulder, their eldest daughter gabbering on and on about something she was clearly very passionate about, while their 6 months old looked at her sister with big eyes, probably not understanding a word, but giving her her full attention. Niall’s heart was so full, he was sure it must burst one of those moments. He felt that way whenever he had his three girls right with him, just like this. Not even doing anything special, just being together, being a family. He truly did not know what the hell did he do to deserve it all, the most amazing wife and two beautiful daughters.

He drew his eyes back to Lucy and just knew she was filling similar things, one of her hands clasped on the back of his neck, while the other was travelling up and down his side.

The way they looked at each other and were together, made her feel like they were two teenagers in love. Crazy about each other, with heart eyes and butterflies in their stomachs. It didn’t mean their love wasn’t mature, their relationship stable. But in those moments, she felt incredibly lucky. That after all these years, the spark between them didn’t dim. That her body still felt warm whenever he was near, her heart skipping a beat whenever he looked at her. It was something she was incredibly appreciative of, their love evolving, growing to new heights, but never really changing. Deep down she not only hoped, but knew that it would be like that forever. That not only this was the man she’d grow old alongside and spend the rest of her life with, but that she’d be completely in love with him for every minute of every day. And for just as long, she’d be utterly, absolutely loved by him.

taglist: @stylishmuser @verorax @georgiahoranxx @exoticniall @awomanindeniall @soullikestyles @bopbopstyles @nannav47

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan oneshot #one direction fanfiction #one direction oneshot #one direction fan fiction #one direction one shot #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan one shot #dtl

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bechobbi · 4 years

Text

Fortune favours the bold - SamDrake x Reader - (Chapter 6)

Tags: @missdictatorme - @unchartedterritoria - @jodiereedus22 - @aliceriddell-aka-zephyr - @sicparvismagnaforsam - @mooraakath- @uncharted-trash-shar - @tennantmademedoit - @samdrakeftw - @sparrowspt9851 - @reachagalaxy - @irresistiblemonster @original-drake@sw33t-but-psycho @dragonjedihobbit @ellie-drake @fhujami@birdgirl69@mafiahobbit @spaskaalekha @avast-you-dirty-dog @shambhalala@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @missymysa

Wanna be tagged in/out? Just tell me!

For once, you took a day off "work" and enjoyed the sun and nature that surrounded the motel.

You needed to reflect. You would have liked to accept Sam's proposal immediately, but at the same time you didn't want to endanger anyone else except yourself.

You walked slowly on a dirt path in the small wood in front of the motel. It was a pretty remote place if it weren't for the 24-hour supermarket.

You would have liked to have a plan, you thought, but it wasn't like that at all and you didn't even know where to start. However, you had some information about your evil relatives, they had the money to do everything even make you disappear into thin air.

Part of you was hoping they had forgotten about you after all these years.

Was it really better to leave it to someone else like Sam said?

Small parrots caught your attention. Their feathers were bright green and their noises resounded in the air. They hopped pecking at the ground looking for food a few meters from you. They reminded you of your old house where, in the middle of the large flower garden, there was a fountain where in summer the birds went to cool off.

That memory convinced you even more to want to take everything back even at the cost of risking your life. Then you resumed your march and the parrots soared into the sky as you passed by.

Meanwhile at the motel Sam was making some phone calls:

“Hey old man, how are you doing? ... Yes, yes, I guess so ... Listen, I have a job that might interest you ... It is an inheritance ... Yes ... But the client has yet to give me a certain answer ... As soon as I know something I'll let you know ... OK, ok ... See you soon. "

He threw the phone on the bed and left the room to get a breath of fresh air. It was not easy to find someone, his bad friendships became fewer with the story of the marriage, he had had to cut many bridges because he wanted to start over.

The man had not remained idle while you were out clearing your train of thoughts, he had investigated you and your family.

Your parents were two patrons, two wealthy people who helped less fortunate kids to study and emerge. They were philanthropists, but also the black sheep of their respective families.

Your relatives, on the other hand, were rich stingy bourgeois and bad-hearted, and certainly did not look favorably on the choices of your mother and father.

Sam had even found a couple of newspaper articles reporting the discovery of two corpses, your parents’, but no mention of you.

The bodies had been found following an anonymous phone call received by the police. Together with them documents attesting to debts and tax fraud were found, which for the lazy and corrupt policemen they represented the motive for the death of the two people.

For them, your father would have killed your mother, after which he would have hang himself. A cliché.

“A big mansion, two rich people found dead in a suspicious circumstance, money, different opinions, corrupt police, a 'daughter' ... Interesting” thought Sam.

The man discovered that your mother had had a daughter, but she disappeared into thin air years later. No other births. The date of birth and your age did not match, so he deduced that you probably must have been adopted. Except that there was no sheet to prove it.

Sam needed to know more about you. So he waited patiently for your return plunging back into the search for more.

You came back from your walk, you were calmly walking to the room where you had spent the night. The sun was setting. You knocked on the door, but no one answered. You knocked again. Nothing. You decided to forget about manners and try to open the door. It was open.

"Who the hell is it that doesn't lock the door in such remote place like this ?!" you murmured to yourself.

Upon entering you noticed that the room had been rearranged, the bed had clean sheets and your dirty clothes, which you had left on the floor that morning, had been folded and placed on the desk under the window.

There was a scent of cleanliness and everything made you feel a sensation of warmth in your chest.

You entered on tiptoe almost for fear of ruining that order, you crouched on the ground to take off your boots. Once barefoot, you went to bed and sat down waiting for some sign of life, a noise, anything that would tell you where your roommate was.

Then suddenly the door of the bathroom opened making you jump, you saw clothes fly and land on the floor in front of the bed. You thought it best to emit a rattle to signal your presence and if it wasn't for that you would have found the naked figure of Sam in front of you.

The man promptly tied a towel around his waist and when he crossed the threshold of the bathroom he said:

" You're back!"

You were a bit stunned to see him shirtless and from the towel you could get an idea of the man's virility. A shiver ran down your spine. He was a captivating type, there was no doubt.

“Y-yes, I'm back. I-I tried to knock ... "

"Oh yes? I didn't hear" he said, running his hands through his still damp hair "I was taking a shower”. At the base of his neck, his hair rolled up into more accentuated curls than usual.

"Where have you been?" he asked you taking another towel and passing it over his chest.

It felt like the beginning of a porn movie.

"Ah-um, I took a walk in the woods in front ..." you looked away from him who was now smiling slyly.

"Do you like what you see?" he said.

You blushed and laughed "Idiot, stop it, you make me uncomfortable ..."

He laughed hard as he took clean clothes from a bag in the closet.

"I thought you weren't coming back."

Suddenly a detail struck you, the man's left side showed round scars.

"What are those?" you asked to distract yourself from your obscene thoughts.

"A little memory of Panama, you know I liked it so much that ... well ... I always carry it with me" he chuckled.

You felt the urge to touch those wounds, to understand if they were true or not. Your body moved by itself, you crawled over to Sam and reached out. Your index finger now was brushing those circles of brown and jagged skin. He didn't move, he stayed there giving you his side. You could perceive the diversity of the skin, however soft, and under it the muscles that characterized the figure of the man.

"Did it hurt?" you asked.

"Like hell" he answered in a low voice.

"How did you do?"

At your touch Sam let out a small muffled moan and said "...They shot me."

"... oh ..." you were captured by those jagged circles.

Then suddenly he moved away and said "Now you do understand why you shouldn’t play with weapons?"

"Sorry ..." you said realizing what you just did. You had just touched his weakest points. And he had let you do it.

He smiled putting on a clean white T-shirt, then with jeans and a pair of boxers in his right hand he went to the bathroom to get dressed.

He came out dressed, clean and fragrant.

"I thought we could go get something to eat" he proposed.

Your stomach felt more empty than ever, so you accepted.

You were walking towards the supermarket, you with your hands in your coat pockets and him smoking.

"You are the first person who decides to help me" you said.

Puffs of white smoke left Sam's lips "Well, if you had told someone what happened to you, maybe they would have helped you."

You weren't convinced then he added "Surely, if I hadn't found your backpack you wouldn't have told me anything, and you would have just run away like you always have."

He read your mind, so you bit your lip and smirking you said "How do you know this?

Sam looked at you from his height "I put and two together. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. I did these things too. "

"Then don't lecture me" you teased him.

"You're better than me, that's why I'm warning you" he concluded.

Finally you arrived at the supermarket, crossing the threshold the bell placed at the top of the door rang, signaling the entrance of customers.

"What do you want to eat?" Sam asked.

You just had to put anything under your teeth, so you ordered the attendant behind the bread counter to prepare you some sandwiches to eat on the fly.

During the preparation of what would be your dinner, you took a tour of the supermarket shelves.

Earlier, at the motel, you noticed the now empty bottle of Scotch, so you thought about getting one of the same brand. You grabbed the bottle and went back to Sam.

“I saw that you finished it" you said.

The man gave you a quick glance, then looked into his pockets and counted the money he had left.

"I think we would need a trick to get it" he winked at you and added "See how it’s done!"

With the sandwiches ready and the bottle of liquor you went to the cash desk where the usual swooning and provocative blonde whom Sam already knew was waiting.

"Hi handsome" she said.

"Hi honey, how are you?" Sam answered placing the items on the counter.

She leaned forward as usual to show her breasts "Now that I see you I'm fine"

"I guessed so" the man said letting his eyes wander over her.

"Who is she?" said the blonde pointing at you with her head.

“She is my little sister! We haven't seen each other for a long time, so tonight we wanted to celebrate "

The blonde was loudly chewing a chewing-gum and she was winking at Sam so constantly that she was almost annoying.

"You know..." Sam continued using his mellowest voice "I don't have enough cash with me ... So I thought we could make a trade, honey ..."

She melted like chocolate in the sun.

"What time do you finish, beauty?" Sam said moving closer to her face.

"At 11 pm I finish my shift ..." she said out of breath.

“I'll wait for you outside, what do you think? Me and you... ?" he continued.

She nodded biting her lower lip.

And that was how Sam got the free bottle of Scotch.

On the way to the motel you suddenly turned to the man "Are you really going?"

"Who knows" he replied.

You scrutinized it carefully and after a few minutes of silence you continued "I don't think you will go there"

"And how do you know?" he retorted.

"it's a feeling. You just wanted the bottle of Scotch, you don't give a damn about her "

"Atta girl, I see that we understand each other on the fly. You are impressive ... Furthermore she had floppy tits" he added.

It made you both laugh.

The evening passed quietly between Sam’s stories, time flew. It was a long time since you had such a good time, not to mention the fact that his stories were exciting.

Both of you were bit high from the alcohol and he seemed happier than when you first saw him.

"So?" you said interrupting the speech.

"So what?"

"...Will you help me?" you told him.

"I was waiting for you to ask me... I think so" he replied, lighting a cigarette.

You got up from the bed where you were sitting, you staggered towards him and, while Sam controlled your movements without understanding what you wanted to do, you approached his face. You gave him an intense look that left him breathless, whispered a "Thank you" and stole the cigarette from his hands.

He didn't resist nor react. He stood there motionless contemplating you. After a moment he recovered and laughed out loud "Hey that was mine!" he yelled.

Night fell, Sam slept on the floor to let you sleep in the bed.

The next day you found breakfast again and Sam was waiting for you to wake up sitting next to you on the bed, his back against the wall.

"Hey ..." he said "it's time to get up ..." he moved the locks of hair in front of your closed eyes.

Slowly you became aware "G-Good morning ..."

"Come on sleepyhead, there's coffee ... and... we have an appointment ..."

You sat down too, while Sam handed you the cup of hot coffee.

"Thank you..."

He smiled at you soflty.

Sipping the drink you asked him for more information about the appointment he had just mentioned.

"What do we have to do?"

"We have to meet a person the will help us."

You were surprised. Now you had two people to rooting for you.

"Oh..."

“Don't worry, you will thank us when done. Come on, go wash your face, he will be here soon. "

Taken by anxiety, you gulped the coffee in a single sip and catapulted to the bathroom to wash and dress.

After the shower you changed your clothes and decided to wear a dress that your mother had given you years ago.

Once out of the bathroom Sam couldn't help but notice a new side of you, a more feminine side that you apparently tended to hide.

He whistled at you and said "How cute we are"

You blush saying "My mother gave it to me years ago, I think it's the right time to wear it"

He looked at you from head to toe, made a grimace of approval and added "It fits you divinely."

You blushed again.

The magic moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"Here he is!" Sam nimbly jumped out of bed to open the door.

A middle-aged man with white hair and a bright look was out there.

“Hey Victor! Long time no see!"

"Hi Sam!"

The two hugged and patted each other on the back while you waited for introductions.

"So, Samuel Drake, will you let me in?" said the older man.

"You're welcome" replied the younger one and clearing his throat added "Ahem, this is the disinherited princess", he put both hands on your shoulders "She is Y / N Y / L / N"

"Hello ..." you held out your hand.

"My pleasre Miss, I'm Victor" he shook your hand. His grip was as strong and firm as Sam's, and from that detail you felt you could trust him too.

Sully took a seat in the chair in the room and you and Sam took place on the edge of the bed.

"So, where do we start?" Victor asked.

Sam waved at you to invite you to speak.

You were so uncomfortable having to tell about your misadventure that you were torturing your fingernails.

Sam noticed your discomfort, so he took one of your hands in his and squeezed them tightly to give you courage. With a smile he gave you another nod and pointing to Sully he said “You can rest assured. Victor and I have known each other for a lifetime, he is a person you can trust, just like me. "

The older man then spoke up and began "I did a lot of research on your family. And you ... you don't appear anywhere. To help you, we need as much details as possible. You can trust me, I give you my word" he concluded putting a hand on his heart.

You held your breath for a couple of seconds, then let yourself go.

“Ok ... I can do it ... I was taken into the house by Mrs. and Mr. Y / L / N when I was about 4 years old. I was part of one of the groups that they followed and to which they gave financial aid to study. Like me, many of my companions had no parents, however, among many, they decided to keep me by their side as if I were their daughter. Only later I understood why: I resembled their missing daughter. Similar eyes, similar attitudes. I heard rumors about this missing daughter of theirs, she wasn't dead, just one day she vanished into thin air. Not being able to have other children, the Lady taught me to call them mom and dad. I grew up with them, studied with them every day of my life. I lacked nothing and I was happy. "

The two men were attentive to every single word that came from your lips. Serious and silent. Occasionally Sam stroked your hands with his thumb and that comforting feeling made you feel good.

“Then one day… I was playing hide and seek with a partner of mine and… I happened to witness an argument between my parents and one of my father's brothers. He brought misfortune, I felt it ... I had never seen my father so agitated ... but at the same time he was determined to continue on his path. "

A tear ran down your face. You stopped your story for a moment as Sam's grip tightened. That gesture moved you and spurred you to go on.

“My father's brother used to say that my parents were doing something wrong and that they should think before doing such a stupid thing. I didn't understand what they were talking about ... I remained hidden listening all the time. Until at a certain point everything was clear: my parents had decided to adopt me and make me the only heir to their inheritance. My relatives, on the other hand, wanted the inheritance for themselves. But my father and my mother had already begun the procedures to adopt me. "

At the word inheritance Sam and Victor threw a knowing look at each other while you continued to unravel the facts.

"My parents ... wanted to remove all their family members from the inheritance because they were people who used the money only for their own purposes, while mom and dad invested in the less fortunate generations ... So to get the inheritance they would have to eliminate me. "

You grasoed Sam's hand and continued in a low voice "... Until one day I’ve found my father hanged and my mother motionless on the ground ..."

Sam interrupted "...Did you do the anonymous phone call?"

You nodded in tears "Yes ... Yes ... It was me who found them ... I felt the world collapse, so I did the wisest thing to do at that moment: run away. It wasn't easy, they tried to track me down, I had a fight with my father's brother, I shot him in the leg as a result of his assault, luckily I didn't end up in prison ... then I finally ran away and they didn't come looking for me anymore. .. "

Sully pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, took one and lit it. He had to ease the tension of the moment. He took a puff of smoke and asked "How long have you been on the run?"

You looked up at him "About 10 years ..."

"Man..." Sam commented.

You dried another tear.

"Could you give us some information about your relatives or about this uncle of yours?" Victor asked.

"He is the most dangerous, the others are simply inepts, but him ... he is a true son of a bitch."

"I learned that he is a drug dealer" added the elderly man.

"Among the many things ..." you commented.

"... and it seems that he has some kind of bodyguard" concluded Victor turning to Sam.

Sam gave him a questioning look.

You looked at them with horror in the eyes and tearing your hand from those of the younger man you burst into a desperate cry "I'll never make it ..."

Sam wrapped you in his arms and you let yourself go to a convulsive cry.

The two men were now looking into each other's eyes. Then Victor said "The bodyguard is only one"

Upon hearing those words Sam felt relieved, but his attitude soon changed when the other man added:

"... she's a woman".

Sam shivered, his guts twitched, his sixth sense was telling him that if Victor had specified such a trifle it meant that in reality it was not at all, but it was a fundamental detail.

"... Do you believe that ...?"

Sully nodded.

"Fuck ..." Sam murmured bringing a hand to his face while he squeezed you with the other.

#sam drake fanfiction #sam drake x reader #sam drake #Samuel Drake #samuel drake fanfiction #samuel drake x reader #Uncharted 4 #uncharted 4 fanfiction #fanfiction #uncharted fanfiction #fanfic

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Taron Egerton - Hypothetically

This is my first Taron Egerton fic, I hope you like it!! This is for the bunch of people who have been requesting me to do something about Taron. Most of them were anon and requested some alphabets. I don’t think I can do that about him, becuase that’s what I find most difficult.

Plot: you find something that you didn’t mean to in Taron’s tablet, and you wish it had been porn.

It started accidentally. You were working and needed to look something up, but your computer was maxed out running a new program, so you picked up Taron’s tablet which he had left on the table. He had never been particularly previous about keeping his stuff to himself – in fact, he had configured your fingerprints to let you in – so you helped yourself without asking and opened his browser.

A white with golden ornaments webpage greeted you. It took you a while to understand what was it about, because it was early in the morning and because you didn’t read what the website was about. Once you squinted your eyes and looked thoughtfully at the title, you almost passed out.

Taron had been reading about weddings. Specifically, top ten places to have a wedding and impress your girlfriend.

Eyes widening, you dropped the device on the table with a clatter. Hearing Taron bustling in the small kitchen of your cute vintage aparment, you shoved it back in place awkwardly, and forced your eyes back to your own flickering screen. Suddenly, friction coefficients didn’t seem so important.

“Y/N?”

You jumped out of your skin and turned to see him sticking his head around the door. The sight would have been funny if you weren’t so nervous; he was wearing a hairnet and a glittering apron. He gave you a slightly concerned frown.

“Are you… alright?”

“Yeah! Fine, thanks. Sorry, just… working” you chuckled, pressing random keys on the computer. “I was just concentrating”

“I bet it’s on something really smart” he teased, and you gave him your most real smile. “Sorry for startling you”

“No, it’s okay. Fine. I’m fine!” your voice sounded unnaturally high-pitched even for you.

Taron’s concern didn’t seem to entirely abate, extremely reasonably given your babbling, so he stepped closer and dropped a gentle hand on your shoulder. Despite everything, something about him was always so perfectly solid, comforting and safe that you found yourself breathing almost normally again.

You turned up to him and smiled; not even that forced. Taron liked to get into his characters in the most strange ways, so maybe he had just been looking it up for his new film. You repeated that to yourself at least twenty times in your head, while he massaged your shoulder in a gentle way. There was no way you had just discovered him looking up ideas for your weeding.

“I’m okay, really” you assured him. You gripped his wrist with your hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Just a bit stressed over the project”

“The astrophysics one?”

You had been working on a new project for college for a few months, wanting to be as perfect as possible. It was your last work before graduating on your master, and if everything went well, you would be able to get a real job in a few weeks. Taron had been very helpful on the way, taking care of you when you forgot and being there in every moment.

Nodding, you looked back to the screen.

“It’s almost over, just a few more details”

“You’re gonna do amazing” he bent down and kissed your cheek. “And I’m gonna brag so hard about my physic girlfriend”

Girlfriend. Not wife, or at least not yet. Muttering a quick ‘love you’, Taron turned back to the kitchen; and you gave the forgotten tablet a side glance, checking that it hadn’t been all a dream.

- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, what is with you?” Betty, your best friend, demanded the next day. “I’ve just told you three times what happened last night with Brian, and you still have to give the talk about going back with my ex. And I don’t buy that you suddenly like him. ”

You shook your head and finally looked over your friend. She was visiting you for a few hours, and was updating you from life back at home while you two had coffee in a beautiful café you found when you arrived. Betty lived back home, working in a supermarket, while you had to travel away to be with Taron. So it was a rare occasion, to see both of you together, and you were completely wasting it because you couldn’t stop thinking about the tablet.

You sighed, and tried to remember what she was talking about as you looked down to your coffee. It had a weird shape made on the top – and it wasn’t as if you only though about it, but it looked like a ring to you.

“He’s an asshole, I don’t know why you go out with him. But I love you anyway” you repeated like a mantra. Everytime you met, Betty had gone back to his ex-boyfriend, a boy who didn’t deserve her, so you thought it wouldn’t be very hard to keep the conversation going.

It didn’t go that well.

“I’ve just told you that I’ve blocked him, so I’m gonna assume you haven’t heard an inch of what I’ve said” she rubbed a tired hand over the bridge of her nose, and finally looked at you with a raised brow. “All right, what has he done now?”

You blinked at Betty. It was disingenuous to pretend you didn’t know who ‘he’ was meant to be, but you found her easy perception disconcerting.

“Nothing!” you shook your hand, and sighed, because lying to a spy would be as useful as watering an artificial plant. “Not really – I just, borrowed his table and accidentally saw some of his browsing history.”

Betty’s eyebrows rose higher than you thought possible, and you sighed. She wasn’t the person you wanted to talk about that; actually, you didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. But you had the impression that if you didn’t you would just explode. Before you had time to explain, Betty talked.

“Looking at porn is normal in –“

“Not that!” you interrupted her. “He was reading stuff… about weddings. And I know it’s probably nothing and just some background reading for his new movie – although I thought it was about spies. But I was kinda shocked? And for some reason my brain won’t shut off and keeps thinking about it.”

Betty snorted with laughter and then just kept laughing. You grumbled and turned back to your coffee, blush on your cheeks.

“Your life is turning into the worst sort of romantic comedy” she laughed. “Come on, what did you expect? We’re talking about Taron! The boy asked you to move in the third month of your relationship! What will be the next chapter? Kids? Retirement plans? I bet he has – “

“Shut up” you mumbled.

It was true that your relationship with the actor had been… rushed. You had met him through a mutual friend, and within the first month of talking, he had already invited you on a date. He was perfect in every way you could imagine; attentive, funny, handsome, gentle and affectionate. He always put you first when it came to decisions, and you were sure he would drop everything if he asked you to do so.

Thoughts about Taron plagued your mind and you smiled sheepishly.

“Then ask him” Betty shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “If you’re not worried about spoiling the surprise, of course”

“But it has been merely a year!” voicing out your concerns didn’t make you feel any better.

“So? My mom proposed to my dad three months after they started dating”

“Aren’t your parents divorced?”

“And not in talking terms”

You buried your face in your arms and closed your eyes tightly. It seemed, like it wasn’t going to be an easy task. Betty’s phone rang and you didn’t have to look to know it was Brian. You didn’t bother in looking up or saying goodbye, just heard her hurried steps as she left the place to talk to him.

You had more than enough with your problems.

You decided to ask him that evening.

You had always prided yourself in being a practical kind of person, and not someone who made assumptions based on guesswork and lack of evidence. Also, you didn’t think you could stand a surprise proposal without fainting on the spot.

Closing the door again, you announced your arrival and received a quick greeting from Taron. Noises could be heard from the kitchen, and a peek look while you took off your jacket let you know that he was cooking. He was wearing again the awful apron, and you salivated just by the smell of the food. Taron had always loved to cook, from impressive breakfast to surprising meals; after your fair share of disappointment and food poisoning, he had become quite talented at that.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek while he moved what seemed pork in the pan, and he answered by dragging you closer and planting a full kiss on your lips while you were serving yourself some water.

You smiled tight, returned the kiss and decided that you were doing it later.

That later, actually, came when dinner was finished.

You were almost falling asleep on his lap after a delicious dinner, dozing off on the film that you were trying to see. You couldn’t focus on what it was about, but rather on how to keep your eyes open to ask him about the weeding. You were laying your head on his thighs, and he had both of hands on you. One of his hands was caressing on your hip, warm and soft against the naked skin, and the other massaging your scalp, occasionally undoing on the knots of your hair. It felt ridiculous to ruin the mood by something that stupid, but you knew he would notice something was off eventually; and he tended to panic.

“So” you started.

Taron stopped moving for a second, before going back to his business. He, unlike you, liked to watch the movies you played on weekends, and got really invested into some of them. Usually, when you interrupted it, he got all mad and playfully banned you from the couch. But he had known you wanted to talk about something all day, from how silent you had been during dinner.

“So, Y/N” he repeated, and you smacked his thigh.

“You know – I borrowed your tabled, this morning?”

He frowned and you could hear the wheels turning in his brain. Taron, as said before, was the most paranoid boy you had ever met; and not in a bad way, because he fully trusted you, but it was true that he tended to think about conclusions before getting the facts.

“Was it porn?” he asked, and you felt like screaming for the second time that day. “Because I don’t think I opened it today. But, you know – we’ve had this conversation before, it’s hard when you –“

“I’m talking about the wedding plans, Taron”

Now, he really stopped moving. You felt him going tense under you, and the only thing he managed to do was to press silent with the remote he was holding. You could probably hear a pin dropping on the street, but in that moment the only thing you heard was Taron’s breathing and your heart beating loudly.

The truth was, Taron didn’t have the heart to make any excuse. He had already thought that it was a bit rushed, because you hadn’t been dating for that long. But recently, one of his friends was getting married, and all the preparations had made him look up some details about… your possible wedding. Just imagining you in the white dress he had seen the last week or in the beach, walking towards him, gave him chills.

“Uh”

Taron tried to say anything that might had excused the tabs on his tablet, and he mentally kicked himself for it not being porn. He could deal with an argument about the inconveniences of it, but not with you saying him ‘no’ already. He hadn’t even meant to ask you yet – he was curious. You were still looking at him, so he gave you a hesitant smile.

“I just see myself with you” he blurted out, much more confident of what he felt. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. “You’re so perfect, and complement me so well. I just – lately I’m always thinking about the future, and in every possibility there is you, with me, married and maybe with some kids. I’m sorry if… I know it’s rushed, and you don’t have to say anything. I just… imagining a future with you makes me keep going. Hypothetically ”

Taron shrugged at the end, as if it hadn’t been the most beautiful thing he had ever told you. He had a tendency to do that, a lot. Even if he was talkative and open on the outside, behind closed doors Taron was a bit shy. From your side vision, someone did something stupid in the film and got murdered.

You shifted so that you were back to your original position, having laid on your back to look at him. You turned your head to the screen and Taron pressed back the volume, and you didn’t miss how he slumped down and sighed.

Truly, you didn’t know what do say. Taron had been what you had always wanted in partner, and in the short amount of time you had been with him, you hadn’t discovered a single thing that made you not like him.

His hands were resting behind you, as if he was afraid to touch you. You reached for one and made him hug your middle until you could play with his fingers on your front.

“Just so you know, hypothetically” you started, fidgeting and looking at the blonde friend who tried to run from the killer in the TV. “I would say yes”

Taron smiled so wide that he thought he could slip his head in two, and finally relaxed into the touch. His hand that wasn’t trapped by you started playing with your hair once more, and the relaxed and happy mood that you enjoyed before was back.

“Well, I love you a lot. And that’s not hypothetically”

“I love you too, moron” you smiled and closed your eyes, ready to finally drift off.

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masked-buffoon · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: Preying in the dark (Part 1)

Warnings: mentions of murder, murder attempt, mentions of parricide, heavy language

Disclaimers : I do not own any of the BSD characters, only my OC and a few other ones created for the purpose of this story.

Author notes: finally, here is the first part of the first chapter, the very first introduction to my story! If you can’t wait, feel free to read it on AO3 ;)

I was cold, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was purposelessly wandering in the streets of Yokohama, looking for some place to stay. Above me, the pale full moon shone darkly, making the night all the more sinister and the silence incredibly tended. There was a lingering feeling of danger in the air which made me shiver, but I could not pay too much attention to it. Whatever were to occur, there was no place I could run to, no refuge I could seek to hide, nowhere I could go to rest. I was alone, by myself, in thrall to the unknown and unsafe world without even a light to guide my steps. I was lost.

"You don't belong there, you scum. Get out of my house! Filthy garbage!"

The last words I had heard from the man whose blood ran into my vessels still echoed in my ears. They had been the very start of my demise, but also the beginning of my freedom. Although I was starving and exhausted by precariousness, I was free from that cage, from that place where I had spent my entire childhood. I had never known more than the four walls of my bedroom. My fifteen first years had been spent recluse, curled up under the blanket of a bed with a book on the pillow. Would it not have been for literature, I would have been completely oblivious to the world. I would have naively followed that older man, the other day, who had kindly offered to welcome me. I would have stupidly been caught stealing in a supermarket. I would have dumbly sold my body to a brothel in order to survive. Really, I was fortunate to have read this much. At the very least, I was aware of the ways of the world and knew that money ruled it, supreme, powerful, creating selfishness and making parents abandon their child out of greed. I sighed slightly and let myself slump down on the cold concrete ground. I had been walking around with an empty stomach for a week. Maybe was it time for me to give up and make my way to the slums. No one could make a living in the back alleys of Yokohama, unless one sold oneself or got involved in drugs.

Exactly seven days ago, I had been chased from my family. I had had a feeling, lately, that my time would come, that these people would throw me away at any time, and I had not been wrong. In broad daylight, at around ten in the morning, the doors of the mansion had closed forever behind my shaking back, and I had been abandoned like a dog its owners did not want anymore. Like any stray animal, I had first roamed around the house, hoping it was a bad joke, hoping perhaps they would not be as heartless as to ditch their older daughter with no further thoughts. I had prayed that there was still a trace of humanity left in those monsters playing my family, but unfortunately, it was in vain. They had sent the butler, who, because he was the only one to actually care about me, had scared me off with a firearm instead of shooting at me. Treated like a nuisance, I had had no choice but to run away and escape that madness. Why had it come to such extremities? I believed it was related to the fact I had hold a revolver toward the father, aiming at his chest, out of anger. In fact, this action had triggered these events, had unraveled the morbid plans the man had been plotting. What was one supposed to do upon hearing a man delightfully boasting about disinheriting his child and sending her in the streets to her death? It had gone on for ten whole minutes, during which he had explained his wife he simply could not kill me with his own hands because it would attract the police's attention and he did not want his reputation to be ruined. I had wondered if he had thought about ruining his reputation when he had called members of the Port Mafia to sign a contract, a month ago. I had kept listening to his disgusting words. His wife had never been the active one. She could never have stood against her husband, could never have done a thing for me and had only ever been good at wearing pretty kimonos and nodding at the man's gross statement. The younger me had believed she was simply scared and did not dare going against the fat man. The younger me had believed so strongly this mother loved me, and had been deceived. Had she loved me, she would have at least tried to see me in secret. There had been plenty of opportunities to sneak inside the room, to talk to me, to take me in her arms, to kiss me and comfort me, but I had never seen her. Never, ever. These gestures, she only gave to my younger, Ruriko-chan, whose smile had never failed to soothe my painful heart. I was not jealous, simply disappointed in the people who called themselves my family. As the man's loathsome laugh had echoed in the living room, I had calmly walked toward a drawer in the corridor and had grabbed a pocket revolver he had been hiding for years. Stating I had only known my room was, in fact, a false statement, for I had been allowed to come out a year ago, on my fourteenth birthday, when Ruriko-chan had pulled me out forcefully despite the parents' disapproval. How the matter had been solved, I was not sure about it. Maybe had she succeeded in convincing the mother. Since that day, I had explored the corridors of the mansion and had accidentally found the gun. With the weapon in my hand, I had made my way inside the living room, mind and eyes empty, and had mechanically pointed it toward the gruesome pig in front of me. Luckily for the panicking him, my aim had been poor and the bullet had barely missed his empty skull to land into the expensive vase behind him. I had been tempted to shoot another time, but the recoil provoked by my first try had propelled me on the floor and my arms had felt too tired to raise again.

"My vase!" He had yelled "You useless piece of sh*t!! Do you know how much that thing costs?!"

A sudden anger had overwhelmed me and I had leaned onto the nearest couch to stand up, before pointing the barrel toward my own head. I had wanted to know if I was more valuable than a furniture, which I thought was stupid as I recalled the scene. He had only huffed, waving his hand in a much disinterested manner, while his woman had jumped on me to take the weapon away from my hands.

"Yōko, you can't do that...!" She had seized the revolver "You can't do that, my daughter..."

"Don't call me that." I had slapped her hand away "Don't bother with your hypocrite words. I know what you were talking about a moment ago and, surely, I will not do you the pleasure of taking my own life. You disgust me, all of you."

Afterwards, I had locked myself in my room for three days. By the end of that short period of time, I had been abandoned, discarded in the streets. Which had brought me to the current situation.

Why did my parents loathe me so? It could seem out of the world to reject one's own offsprings. Even the most fierce animal would raise its kids. Then, why? The reason was the fact I was an ability user. Although many considered power to be a blessing, mine was a curse, which gnawed at my life, chewed on my health and weakened me by depriving me of sleep. My ability enabled me to read people's mind within a certain range. However, it was impossible for me to control it and thus restrain it, which was why I could constantly hear everyone's thoughts without being able to stop them. Because of that, the father, a businessman with many secrets, called me a freak, and the mother did nothing to arrange the situation, always darting her eyes away and avoiding troubles. How I had survived for fifteen years old with a constant headache and insomnia, which did not help my state, remained a mystery, mostly when the so-called parents, wealthy, so rich they threw money through the window by buying expensive antiques and trinkets, had refused to spend a yen in pain relievers or at least sleeping pills. It was a given that children were to respect their parents, who despite hardships, despite troubles of their own, had raised them. Mine had never even thought about feeding me, and had it not been for the butler, I would have starved, forgotten, aliterate and miserable in my room.

I had often thought, during the previous week, that if only I had successfully killed the man, I could have maybe improved my life. Once the selfish and greedy parasite would have been eliminated, perhaps the mother would have hugged me and cried how much she would have loved to do that sooner. Once the master of the house would have been dead, perhaps I would have been the happiest teenager in Yokohama, despite becoming a murderer. A murderer... It was nonsensical to me that people killing their fellows had to suffer greater punishment than those hurting others for years, just like what I had been through. Had I killed him, I would have been charged a criminal and would have ended up in prison for my entire life, for, underage, I could not receive death sentence. However, had his torture been discovered, he would have experimented a few years in jail before coming out freely as though nothing had never happened. That injustice, the unfair laws people had created, added to the torment my ability created and I found myself more restless than usual. Letting out a sigh, I stood up from the cold concrete I was sitting on and slowly dragged my feet toward the slums. I did not know what I was supposed to do at the moment, nor what I was able to accomplish in my state, but, surely, the shallows would provide a safer shelter than the cruel back alleys of the town.

Next >

#bsd #bsd oc #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

‘cause all of the stars are fading away (just try not to worry you’ll see them someday)

so i wrote this a while ago while looping stop crying your heart out with meg and sat on it for a bit bc i wasn’t sure whether i wanted to post it or not but y’know what. absolutely fuck it also i think? this is my first ever cashton fic that isnt a drabble like my first ever proper fic? isnt that exciting

@kaleidoscopeminds i think you know everything about this fic that you need to know already and i can’t be in sappy hours in the a/ns so all i’m going to say is in case you were under any illusions this is for you in every which way

Growing up isn’t easy.

Nobody ever told him it would be. You’ll get hurt, his mum would say, eyes big and sad, and he’d shrug and say that’s life, not really understanding what she meant because he was yet to spend three nights in a row staring up at his ceiling, drunk and high and so miserable it somehow felt like everything and nothing at the same time. It’ll be difficult, his manager had warned, when they got their first tour with One Direction, and Ashton had shrugged and said isn’t everything?, not realising that what ‘difficult’ meant was sacrifice; his sleep, his home, his self, everything torn out at the roots and tossed aside for him to gather back into his arms again.

The hardest part of growing up, though, isn’t when things happen to him, when someone breaks up with him or wakes him up two hours after he’s gone to bed or puts him on another plane six hours after he’s just got off one. The hardest part of growing up is when he looks around him and realises I’m not happy.

It doesn’t hit him like a train, full-force to the face and leaving him no room for doubt. It comes piecemeal, comes in late-night conversations with Luke where he exhausts himself just to make sure Luke’s going to be okay until the morning, comes in brief flickers of clarity when he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks I don’t know who you are, comes in a moment where he walks past someone who smells like home and his heart, which he’d almost forgotten was still nestled somewhere in his chest, clenches and constricts. I’m overthinking it, he’ll tell himself, forcing down the panic that rises in his chest, or sometimes it’s just because I’m tired, or high, or on a comedown. It’ll pass. And it does, passes from his heart to his veins, from his veins to his lungs, but never strays any further from his core than that.

So he just tries not to think about it, and most of the time, it works. Most of the time, he’s too drunk or high or tired to really think about it, for it to do anything more than thrum dully in his veins, buzzing below the surface. He tries to dampen it - never says no to a party, always says yes to a drink - but even when he’s laughing and dancing and grinning up at the ceiling of some dark, grimy nightclub in fuck knows where, it’s there with him, prickling at his skin like it’s trying to find a way to build a home under it.

Being the oldest doesn’t help, either. It’s Ashton Luke turns to on a dark night, three lines deep and somehow still somewhere between a high and a comedown, and it’s Ashton Michael turns to after three nights with no sleep, exhausted and delirious and muttering I’m not worth it, I don’t deserve it nonsensically under his breath. Ashton has to shelve it, then, has to sit Luke down and let him use Ashton to counterbalance the coke, has to open his arms for Michael to crawl into and let him use Ashton to counterbalance the lack of sleep. He wonders whether Luke and Michael hear the deep breaths he takes to steady himself before he does, whether they know he’s using the air in his lungs to quell his own feelings, push himself down until he barely even remembers who he is besides their counterbalance. He wonders, if they know, whether they even care, whether what he needs matters to them at all.

Calum’s the only one who seems to get it, sort of. He never says anything, never offers any advice or commiseration or consolation, just sits next to Ashton wordlessly as he gets another line up his nose, or stands outside on the balcony at four in the morning while Ashton smokes all of Calum’s cigarettes, or lies next to him in bed while Ashton’s staring at the ceiling, fingers brushing against Ashton’s just to let him know he’s there. It’s something, Ashton thinks, as he’s relishing the bitter drip of the cocaine down his throat, or staring out at a city that isn’t home, or willing himself to cry while it’s still dark in the hotel room but unable to patch enough emotions together to form a single tear. It’s something, but it’s not quite enough to make Ashton feel like the pieces of himself will ever slot together in a way that fits.

And realistically, Ashton knows he can’t carry on like that indefinitely, can’t carry on catching brief glimpses of himself in shop windows and car doors and in Luke’s eyes and thinking I don’t know who that is, but what else is he supposed to do? Luke needs him, Michael needs him, and neither of them particularly seem to care what they’re doing to him. When Luke’s talking quietly, miserably, about missing home and his family and the fucking servo they used to hang out at when they had no money, and Ashton strokes his hair soothingly and says I know, and I’m sorry, he thinks what about me? D’you not think I miss home, my family, the fucking servo we used to hang out at when we had no money? When Michael’s mumbling incoherently into Ashton’s chest, something about not good enough and worthless, and Ashton presses a kiss to the top of his head and says you’re enough, Mike, you’re enough, he thinks what about me? Am I enough? They’ll smile at him brightly the next morning, throw him a quick sorry about last night, restored by all the energy Ashton’s given them, bleeding himself dry for just a few hours of their happiness, but they’ll never do anything more than that. It’s easy for them, easy to drain Ashton and hang around on the sidelines, bored, while he struggles to replenish himself only for them to get impatient and siphon off whatever he’s managed to get back again. But what else is Ashton supposed to do, leave them parched and gasping?

What Luke and Michael don’t - or maybe won’t - see, Calum does. He sees the way Ashton zones out of conversations, the way he slumps on the sofa, the way he’ll close his eyes for a moment before plastering a smile on his face and cracking a joke. He always sighs, and usually gets that little crease between his eyes, but he says nothing.

He’d tried, once. You’re exhausting yourself, he’d said, passing his half-smoked cigarette to Ashton. Ashton had taken it, looked out at the light-polluted sky in front of them, and shrugged. Yeah, he’d thought, edged with bitterness. Who else is going to?

See, that’s the thing about growing up. Ashton doesn’t have his mum seeing him exhausted and upset anymore, doesn’t have her around to march to his friends’ houses and tell their parents exactly what she thinks about how their kid is treating her son. He doesn’t have anyone to cradle him at night while he cries, no more home-cooked dinners brought to him in bed, no more trips to the supermarket for three tubs of ice cream. Nobody’s there to pick him up or to put him back together again, or to tell him when enough is enough. Nobody pulls the strings anymore; they were cut long ago, and Ashton’s only just starting to see the fraying threads.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Ashton blurts to Calum one night, chain-smoking Calum’s cigarettes on the balcony of their hotel room. Calum doesn’t say anything at first, just hands him his next cigarette. “I can’t.” He doesn’t know whether Calum’s going to know what he means, doesn’t even know whether he wants to be saying it, but the words claw their way up his throat and out of his mouth before he has a chance to force them back down, a well-worn little dance between his head and what’s left of his heart.

“You don’t have to,” Calum says, after a minute. He doesn’t, it’s true. It’s in Ashton’s hands, the decision to step away, to hold his hands up and say I’m not strong enough for this. But that would mean taking his life into his own hands, and Ashton’s not strong enough for that either.

“Yeah, I do,” Ashton says, and Calum just sighs, and hands him the lighter.

It’s not until Ashton’s almost finished the next cigarette that Calum speaks again.

“What do you need?”

It’s such a simple question, but it stops Ashton in his tracks. He spends all his time thinking I don’t want this, I need something else, there’s something missing, there’s something wrong, but when Calum picks up the other end of that thread of thoughts and asks what do you need? What can I give you? Ashton realises he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what he needs, he just knows that he needs something, something that isn’t this. And he doesn’t know what he wants, either, just knows that he wants something, something that isn’t this. He doesn’t fucking know anything, because he barely even knows who he is anymore, doesn’t know the hazel eyes that blink back at him in the mirror every morning, doesn’t know the curly hair he catches in the window of a passing bus. How is he supposed to know what will stitch the disparate parts of himself that he still has a hold of back together into something resembling Ashton Irwin when he doesn’t even know who Ashton Irwin is?

“I don’t know,” he says eventually, and Calum hums, like he’s mulling the answer over in his mind.

“Alright,” he says after a moment, like it’s okay that Ashton’s falling apart in front of him into too many shards to ever fit back together again, and hands Ashton another cigarette - there are only two more left, now - passing him the lighter along with it. Michael would probably frown at him if he knew, Ashton thinks, as he puts the cigarette between his lips, and Luke would whine and bitch and try and steal one of them off him, but Calum gets it. He gets that Ashton’s relishing the way his lungs are hot and burning from it, the way he’s choking from the inside out, revelling in the feeling of choking on something that isn’t himself, for once. He doesn’t like it - Ashton can see that in the way his lips are slightly down-turned, the glances he keeps sending Ashton out of the corner of his eyes - but he gets it. He always gets it, always knows when Ashton needs to be alone and when he needs to be with someone and when he needs to be high and when he needs to be sober, and Ashton’s never really thought too hard about it, but now he can’t help but wonder whether Calum gets it because he understands.

“Do you ever feel it?” Ashton asks. Calum looks at him for a moment, a little calculating, like he’s trying to work out just what Ashton means by that and how honest of an answer he should give, then looks out at whatever fucking city they’re in today, and shrugs.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he says.

“What do you do?” Calum shrugs again.

“Let myself feel it,” he says. Ashton takes another drag of his cigarette, lets the words sink in with the nicotine.

“Why?” Calum throws Ashton a look.

“There’s nothing else I can do.” Ashton exhales heavily, watches the cloud of smoke as it turns from a plume into a mist between the two of them. He knows what Calum’s doing. He’s telling Ashton, as gently as he can, that it’s okay. And, Ashton thinks, he’s testing Ashton, challenging him to say you could repress it like me, seeing whether in the darkness and a few pints down he’ll admit to it.

(But the city’s still lit up in front of them, and Ashton’s barely even tipsy.)

“D’you think it’ll always be like this?” Ashton’s not even entirely sure what he’s asking. Will life always be this crazy, maybe, or will I always feel this way?

“No,” Calum says, reaching for the pack of cigarettes again as Ashton stubs out the one he’s been smoking, and holds his hand out for another. He sounds so sure, so certain that things are going to get better somehow, and it makes the scraps of Ashton’s heart ache.

“Are you just saying that to try and make me feel better?” Calum huffs out a laugh.

“No,” he says again, a smile playing at his lips. “I’m saying it because it’s what you need to hear.”

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s not going to make you feel any better.”

He’s right. It sort of makes Ashton’s stomach clench, the thought that things aren’t always going to be this way, because it means something’s got to change, and nothing will change until Ashton changes it. It’s comforting, in a way, knowing that he’s not always going to feel like this, but it’s equally as frightening as it is reassuring, because it means Ashton’s going to have to take a deep breath and step off the precipice he’s been hovering on for years, eyes wide open and still no idea where he’s going.

But, Ashton realises, although his stomach is constricting and his heart has skipped a beat or two, he doesn’t feel any different. He doesn’t feel any more afraid, any more overwhelmed, doesn’t feel unsettled or like the weight pressing down on his chest has got any heavier. He doesn’t feel better, but he doesn’t feel worse, and that’s more than he’s ever had when allowing himself a peek into this abyss.

It doesn’t quite hit him so much as it nudges at him, knocking politely and waiting for him to answer the door. Ashton hadn’t known what he needed - still doesn’t know what he needs, doesn’t even know what he wants or where he wants to end up - but Calum had. Calum had found the right words, known exactly how to balance comfort and honesty, known where to draw the line and where to step over it.

Ashton takes another long drag of the cigarette in his hands, watches it as it burns almost all the way down to the filter, and then stubs it out, lays the butt in the middle of his frankly impressive collection, and moves to the edge of the balcony, letting his forearms rest on the railing and his hands hang in the cool night air. Calum seems to sense that it’s a silent invitation, and steps forward to join him, arm pressing against Ashton’s when he leans forward over the balcony.

Calum holds out the last cigarette, digs around in his pocket for the lighter Ashton had handed back to him after his last cigarette, that silent this might be my last after lighting every one that neither of them believed anyway, and holds it out in the palm of his hand for Ashton to take. Ashton puts the cigarette between his lips, but hesitates with his hand halfway to Calum’s. His lungs feel full, now, smoke and tar and something else, something Ashton can’t quite place but knows he doesn’t mind.

Instead of pulling the lighter out of Calum’s hand, Ashton brings his fingers up and links them with Calum’s, squeezing their hands together. It’s a little uncomfortable, the lighter hard and still warm between the two of them, but Ashton doesn’t mind. It’s sort of grounding, in a way.

What do you need? Calum had asked.

You, Ashton’s saying, hand tightening around Calum’s. When Calum’s fingers curl around his own, warm and soft, thumb stroking gently over Ashton’s, Ashton knows what he’s saying.

Okay.

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#cashton #5sos fic #5sos fanfiction #5sos slash #god...how much of a bop is stop crying your heart out though #like on a real that song SLAPS #ok maybe slaps is the wrong word but its like...positive depression. uplifting depression #i vibe with it so hard #and any excuse to write loosely based on an oasis song #god idk why i'm so nervous to post this #anyway...heres stop crying your heart out #alcohol tw #drugs tw

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headshxtina · 4 years

Text

Brave - Koishi Sugawara

Genre: Fluff, au

Warnings: Language! And that’s all hehe

Song of the day:

Hope you enjoy! I just wrote this out if nowhere since I’ve been in love with him so much,, forgive me for the cliché-ish plot djjdjd this is my first tumblr fic i’ve only written one-shots before all my fics are on wattpad 🥺

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

“Dealing with the kids is pretty hard, right?”

Sugawara asked, eyebrow slightly lifted as you were oblivious to his appearance again because of being too concentrated on the lists of teams Karasuno were about to have practice matches with in two weeks.

“Oh? Y- yeah...”

The boy leaned down to the notes, nonchalantly humming, but it seemed like he was focused on your expression more than the tough lists that could match the math revise papers you get.

“Are you tired of replacing Yachi? She’d be absent for pretty long. maybe for MONTHS...” Sugawara left out a soft sigh, being his considerate self as usual, or at least that what was you thought.

He was also known for being the gentle parental figure and the sweet, gentle setter of the team. He was training very hard with the team, even though he wasn’t usually the main setter.

But he seemed to not mind. He appreciated how his appearance helped his fellows practice more consistently and more focused, not to mention his calmness and skillful way of thinking during the matches. You liked that about him, but the recent thoughts about him have been... different from the past ones. Like an evolution. Like how his smile was like an efflorescent kind of spring, how the gentle color of his eyes was like clouds passing the clear afternoon skies, and his comforting smile that sometimes you couldn’t face, and how his iries sometimes were labyrinthe whenever he turned to yo-

“Hey? HEY...?”

Your thoughts stopped in a halt.

“HUH? HUH? WHAT THE FUC-“

“You accidentally kicked your coffee...”

“Oh my GOD... I’m so sorry, I- OH SHIT!”

His shirt was filled with the smell of cappuccino.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! I’M SO SORRY SUGA! DO- DO YOU-“

The latter lifted your frown up by caressing the corners of your lips and gently pulled them up, ended it with a soft cheeks pinch.

“Hey... I have extra shirts. I’m okay, you know how third years always know how to prepare.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m still so sorry though.”

“Remember to not kick your sprite next time.” He mocked you and went to grab an another shirt. “Do you need me to buy you an another coff-“

“NAH. NAH. ME GOOD AS FUCK. UH...”

“Okay then! Don’t worry about me. Poor you... so focused on work.”

His footsteps echoed around the practice room, as the team weren’t there yet. Suga went early because he said he “wanted fresh air and some time to talk to the new manager”, which is you.

The sun rays soared the clear sky, replacing the early aurora. It was somewhat idyllic, it reminded you of the halcyon ages, the early mornings when you and your ex-boyfriend would walk into the convenient stores on the way to school, how he would share his coffee with you. Cappuccino. Always cappuccino.

But that was before your break-up last year. Your heart has promised itself to create a barrier from any emotions from being hurt deep down from his getaway. but somehow, it has lost its composure.

Just because of some other boy.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

“Yes Daichi!”

Sugawara fist-bumped Daichi when they got an another point for the red team.

They were having a practice set, as always.

“Aye! Y/n, are you tired?”

Your thoughts stopped wandering when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! Asahi! How’s the match going?”

“Oh! Yamaguchi asked me to let him replace me for a while. Homeboy’s doing good. Like look at him. Awww...”

“Proud dad you are, Asahi.”

You two left out a small chuckle as he could feel something going on instantly with his left and nimble instinct. And a compassionate soul.

“Y/n, you like Koushi-boy, right?”

Asahi saying that left a huff out of your lips.

“What? Who said that?”

“Nah, just feels like it. Sorry if i’m wrong. But man, the way you’ve been looking at him these past months since Yachi left means something.”

Your tongue was mixed in dirt and cut dry. Somehow, your saliva was nowhere to be found in the back of your throat.

“Uh... Yeah. Sugawara. I l-“

“SEE? HOMEBOY I WAS RIGHT BITCH! OKAY SO WHAT CAN I DO TO HELP YO-“

“SHHH BITCH!”

Your warning reminded Asahi that it was the practice room you guys were standing in, not in the supermarket.

“Okay. But uh...”

“Hm?” He asked as soon as the words left your lips again, like a reflex.

“Dude doesn’t even look at me. No chance. Still painful since my last break-up. No way. I don’t even think of-“

“So,” Asahi stopped you in a gentle manner and leaned in. “I know it hurts, but feelings can’t be stopped. We are human. Being hurt and showing how you feel isn’t bad at all... It’s called being brave. And after it, you can be even stronger. You have to take over your fears. You have me here advising and sharing everything with you. Don’t think of covering it up. It’s better if you just tell Koushi. And, to be honest, you are too focused on your papers you rarely observe how he looks at you.”

You punched Asahi in the stomach, which made he chuckle a little bit. “Ow!”

“Anyways... Yamaguchi’s going in again. You should get out there.”

“Okay.”

The way Asahi smiled at you told you to DO something. Do a thing you’d never thought of doing again.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

The night at the Karasuno rest house was a mess and rowdy as always, filled with the laughs of Tanaka, Nishinoya and Hinata in the halls, and the shouts from Daichi and Ukai telling them to shut up.

It was eerie as the clock hit twelve. Kageyama and Hinata weren’t practicing as always, they fell off asleep after the practice that day, since they had to do about ten laps of running around the school for having a fight and then forgetting about it again.

You were closing your eyes, but it stung. You couldn’t bare to sleep with your heart beating so fast in the middle of the quiet and calm night air.

Your head was full of Sugawara. No, you couldn’t push the heavy brick blocking your emotions out of your heart. It would be forgotten, as many other emotions.

But no. It had been there for months.

Refusing to continue that annoying phrase, you slipped into your slippers and walked out the hallways, out into the staircase in front of the house.

Everyone must’ve been asleep by then. Even Asahi, whom was in the same class as you and understood you the most. There was no one to talk to.

Your lips left out a sigh and as you were just about to close your eyes to meet with the sounds of the night wind, a figure passed by you in silence, a little observant as you realized it was a silhouette of someone.

“Y/n? Aren’t you supposed to be in your bed right now, idiot?”

It was no other than Suga.

“Should be you more, turd. It’s literally midnight, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Can’t sleep.” He replied. “Just thoughts...”

“Too many thoughts are up in my head, couldn’t sleep either.”

You earned nothing but a look down to the ground between both of you. The boy said nothing, as he diverted his pupils to the sky. Immediately, the sight of his face being illuminated by the carressing moonlight holding his face so firmly and softly made your heart fly out of your chest again. Something inside you was urging you to say just three words. Just. Three.

But the past memories triggered them away. You could not get yourself hurt again.

The voice of Asahi stuck inside your head.

“I know it hurts, but feelings can’t be stopped. We are human. Being hurt and showing how you feel isn’t bad at all... It’s called being brave.”

You opened your lips in a short second, which was noticed by Suga.

“You were about to say?”

“KOUSHI SUGAWARA! I-“

Your heart was competing with speed of your tongue. Competing with the tears about to fall right down your face. But just three words was the easiest thing you could say that time. No way back.

Your tears could drop at the moment. Your tongue could be cut at that moment. Your trust in love could be crushed again.

“I LIKE YOU!”

He stood there, looking at you, a little bit observant and calm.

“I like you. Ever since Yachi left for the business trip. I just... don’t believe after that stupid break-up, I could ever let my emotions happen again. I...” You choked on the tears beginning to fall from your lids. “I could be he- heartbroken- again- I’m so- sorry-“

Your hiccups were the sound of pain to him. He immediately walked in nearer to you when your tears started to fall. They kept on wetting your cheeks. They dropped. Fell. Wet the road. They were salty upon your lips and your soft hiccups.

“I’M SUCH AN IDIOT! I’M EMBARRASSING US TWO! I’M A FAILURE... I’m so sorry Suga...”

“Why? Why would you ever be one? Why would you be a failure? You just did the bravest thing." His voice was soft and was faded between your hiccups. You couldn't quite hear or see the caring look on his eyes when he touched your fingers and hesitated for a little before caressing them and molding them inbetween his.

You kept on crying loudly and sobbing. You didn't care about anything anymore. You knew it was a failure saying those words. And the feelings you've kept for so long. If Asahi broke the brick wall of Datekou, then you'd just broken the walls keeping your emotions flow out again.

Noticing you didn't reply, Koushi just quietly planted a soft kiss on your temple, and he kept on kissing when he turned to you and you nodded, he kissed all the way down to your cheeks, feelings your tears touching his lips, but he kept on kissing and stopped at your neck.

"Don't wanna do the licky licky thing over here-"

That left out a soft chuckle from you, which made him a little happy.

"Now... All you have to know is that you're the bravest you've ever been. You're always so brave..."

Before he could notice, your sobs quickly turned into lazy snores as your head bumped down onto his shoulders. The boy realized you had fell asleep and smiled, and there was a beautiful flower blooming inside of his heart as well. His love for you these past months have been opened up by you, not him. He felt like a wimp for not saying it first, but he finally felt happy you'd broken out of your tight shell.

So his hands went to caress your hair between pulling his fingers down your lucious locks. They were soft, opposite to the way his heart was beating for you.

“Sleep tight, sugar. I love you so much.” He whispered.

Asahi and Kiyoko were no other than the ones who brought you two up to your bunks, chuckling at each other, knowing everything by the way you two both fell asleep on each other on the staircase, Suga's hand still holding yours. Firmly. Like he wouldn't ever want to let it go.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

As the alarm clock rang through the eerie silence, you heard everyone groaning in tiredness as Tanaka shouted against Daichi that he wanted a little more sleep and quickly snored again against the soft blanket.

Everyone got ready with huffs and complains under their sleepy breaths, Hinata fixed his funny-looking disheveled hair while shouting at Kageyama for stealing his snacks.

When Karasuno got into the practice room, hyper and ready for an another day of practice, you immediately noticed that familiar silhoutte passing by and stopping right in front of you.

"So, here's a thing, Y/n."

His lips figured in about a few seconds.

"I also... like you back. I love everything about you."

"Hm."

You flashed a smile at him, your eyes still puffy from last night. He just went in and gently kissed the corner of your eye. "Don't cry because of me again, that was.... heartbreaking to see."

"Who would, idiot."

"Who ELSE would." He mocked you as you shyly looked down.

"So, be my girlfriend? As in girlfriend, not girl-friend... uh... like friend as a girl hsjssjshshdh- Alright, be my girlfriend?"

"Gladly, Koushi."

In a sudden, he caught everyone's attention intentionally when he called everyone to get ready and immediately turned to you, got a nod, and crashed his lips onto yours.

A sweet apple smell from his hair passed by your nose, your lips were perfectly molded together, and his soft breath made you feel even better, ecstasy was filling your body, your hands keeping on playing with his soft grey locks.

"OKAY SUGAWHATTHEFUCK?"

Nishinoya and Tanaka's squeals could be heard from afar as Tsukki smiled softly. "Well, Yamaguchi, looks like our setter has fallen in love."

The whole room was filled with squeals and excitement, especially Hinata continuously pulling Kageyama's shirt in surprise, and the latter couldn't care less but gasp and felt so happy for both of you and didn't give a single fuck about Hinata's stupid actions.

"Uh hum." Coach Ukai could be heard from a distance. "Well, looks like our setter has been having a little... makeout sessi-"

"OH SHIT SORRY COACH-" Both of you turned around and realized the whole team has surrounded you guys, including Coach Ukai and Takeda sensei.

"Okay! Suga has a lovey dovey girlfriend, but that doesn't mean we don't continue to practice, remember? You two do that lovey dovey shit at home, not here-"

"YES COACH! I FEEL SO MUCH MORE ENERGETIC AFTER SPEAKING UP MY THOUGHTS! LET ME DO A FUCKING TWO-ATTACK-"

Everyone laughed at Suga's excitement. In the corner of the room, you saw a smile upon Asahi's lips, his eyes gentle and his grin wide as he raised a thumbs up.

"Good job." The tall boy chuckled as he walked towards you.

"All bets on you, Asahi." You smiled back at him. "Thank you. For everything."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

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