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leonscape · 1 year

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Different Universe, Same Love Content Creation Challenge

"Protecting My Love"

Day 1- June 19th - Bodyguard AU (in the modern AU) | Check out the event here! Jin x OC (Camellia); Camellia is a famous pianist with many fans and unfortunately a couple of stalkers. Her family hires Jin as her bodyguard in an attempt to keep her safe. Eventually, they develop feelings for each other. Word Count: 3118 Note: I've never actually written a bodyguard AU. After writing this, I found out that I don't actually like this trope all that much (not that it's bad or anything). This isn't really edited and it was getting too long so I tried my best to end it. I'm not very happy with the end product, but I worked hard on it so I'm going to post it anyway.

Even though there wasn’t a soul in sight, the hairs on her neck stood up and her skin was covered with goosebumps. The churning pit in her stomach never settled even after she turned to look over her shoulder and hastened her pace. But it didn’t stop there. After she arrived in her own home, she still didn’t feel safe. The walls were listening to her and the windows were watching her.

She waited in the darkness, just to make sure that anyone following wouldn’t be able to track down her exact apartment. At that moment, her phone went off and her ringtone played, scaring her out of her skin and almost stopping her heart. She answered the phone, gasping a complaint to her eldest brother, “Charles, you scared me!”

“Sorry, I just wanted to call to make sure you got home all right,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m fine. But-” she hesitated.

“But what?” he pushed. “Camellia? Hello?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” she said, but he wasn’t convinced.

“Fine, just get some sleep. We’ll talk more about it in the morning,” Charles said. They hung up and Camellia was met with the silence. She braced herself for something in the darkness to make itself known. But no matter how much she waited, the quiet darkness persisted. And at the end of the night, she fell asleep with the constant paranoia as her only company.

Camellia found herself sitting in front of her parents and her eldest brother the next day. “We’ve decided to hire a bodyguard for you,” Charles said. Her parents just nodded along.

“Do you think it’ll be okay? If someone is always with me, you don’t think the stalkers will retaliate or anything?” Camellia questioned. “I don’t want to put the bodyguard in danger too.”

“But that’s why they’re bodyguards. They’re meant to protect you and they’re highly capable of protecting themselves,” their father reassured her.

“If you won’t move back in with us, then this is the next best thing,” their mother added. “We respect your wishes not to endanger anyone else, but we need to make sure you’re safe too.”

“Okay,” Camellia agreed.

“Great! Bring him into the room!” their mother cheered.

A tall man walked in with nonchalance, hands stuffed in his pockets, and a playful smile on his face. His height and his build were intimidating, but there was an air of calmness and safety to him. Camellia nearly jumped out of her skin at the first syllable that came from his lips. “Hey,” he greeted. His voice was deeper than she had anticipated, and it immediately put her on edge. “My name is Jin Grandet.”

“Um… hello, Mr. Grandet,” Camellia awkwardly greeted him.

“He’ll stick by your side around the clock, so you don’t have to worry,” their mother said.

“Okay,”Camellia replied.

Jin was even more intimidating now that they were alone. He was a stranger that she was meant to automatically trust. He was very polite and professional as he opened the car door for her and respected her personal space.

“By the way, you can just call me Jin. No need for ‘Mr. Grandet’ or anything like that,” he told her.

“Okay.”

“Let’s get going, shall we? You’ve gotta practice for an upcoming concert.” He acted as her chauffeur as well, taking her to a rehearsal. Not that his behavior was creepy, it was the fact that he was already well acquainted with her schedule. It was something that her stalkers were familiar with as well and she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering in the wrong direction.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Hmm? How do I know that you’ve got practice?”

“Yeah, why do you know my schedule?”

“Your parents told me. It’s not weird for a bodyguard to know their clients’ schedule and habits,” Jin explained.

“Oh,” she sighed, “sorry I guess I was just being paranoid.”

“I can’t blame you. Your parents told me that you have a couple of stalkers.”

“They weren’t that bad before. But last month, someone broke in and stole personal items and leaked personal information,” she said.

“Stalking is always bad. Doesn’t matter if they’re at a distance or breaking in and invading your space.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I just didn’t want to cause bigger problems.”

“You’re not causing bigger problems just because you want to protect yourself. Your feelings are valid, but don’t forget that your safety is also important.”

“I also don’t want it to be obvious that I have a bodyguard now. The stalkers might go after you.”

“Don’t worry, I can handle them,” Jin reassured. He smiled proudly and soon enough, she was smiling too.

“Just don’t overdo it, okay?”

“You got it.”

“I’m really sorry,” Camellia apologized. “I didn’t mean to get you caught up in a scandal like this.”

“Don’t worry, it's not the first time people thought I was dating my client,” Jin answered. “Besides, is that so bad? Maybe this’ll get rid of your stalkers.”

“What do you mean? Wouldn’t they try to hurt you instead?”

“Well, sure, it’s a possibility. But the obsession or parasocial relationships some people form with celebrities are sometimes romantic interests. If your stalkers think we’re dating then it might discourage them from stalking you or investing any more of their time in a one sided relationship since you’re no longer available and you might not romantically appeal to them,” Jin explained.

“I guess you’re right.”

“But don’t worry, I’m not leaving until we know for sure that those stalkers are gone for good,” he promised.

“What if it never happens?” she asked. She had already become accustomed to his presence, but she knew that he couldn’t be there forever.

“It’ll happen, just give it some time. We’ll stop these guys,” Jin reassured her. “Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.”

Eventually, Jin replaced the paranoia. She no longer stumbled in the dark, in fear that the stalkers would know that she’s home alone when the lights were on. He watched over her and protected her as she lived comfortably once again. She was able to live, lounge, and play her piano as much as her heart desired. Playing her favorite lullaby every night made it Jin’s favorite piece too. The gentle rhythm and pleasant blend of chords was comforting and heavenly. On the nights where she was a bit more energetic, the music was accompanied by her lovely voice.

“I really like that song,” Jin complimented. “What’s it called?”

“I don’t know. My older brother composed this piece when I was young and I added lyrics to it when I got older.” She shrugged.

“He composed it just for you?”

“Yes, he composed this lullaby for me to fall asleep to.”

“Have you ever composed something for someone?” Jin asked. She didn’t answer as she directed her gaze away from him. “I guess everything you write is for yourself then?”

Camellia weakly nodded with a blush on her cheeks. “Would you like to learn how to play?”

“Sure, if you’re willing to teach.” Jin sat down beside her and she helped him place his fingers on the keys.

“Make sure to keep your fingers curved instead of flat,” Camellia instructed. She taught him a simple string of notes. Jin didn’t recognize the tune and raised a brow. “It’s a new piece.”

When Jin started to get the hang of the rhythm and got all the notes down, Camellia played the chords with her left hand. Hearing everything blend together in harmony, he smiled as they played the tune again. They played until it became muscle memory. But their muscles wouldn’t be the only one to remember, their hearts would remember it too.

“I like it,” he said.

“Actually,” she swallowed her nervousness, “I wrote it while I was thinking about you.”

Silence took over. Jin was shocked and she was waiting for him to say something. Camellia ran away from the awkward atmosphere but he caught her wrist. “Wait, don’t go.”

No one wanted to say anything despite both having busy minds. He decided to close the gap between them. Her eyes sparkled in the light because of the tears that were forming and when they fell, he brushed them away. Before anything else could happen, she fled the scene in embarrassment

After that night, they never spoke of it and it was like it never happened. Camellia diligently prepared for the upcoming concert while Jin shadowed her to keep a lookout for anything suspicious. Ever since being hired, there have been no incidents and everything seemed safe. Jin’s presence definitely reduced the worrisome activity, but nothing could be definitively concluded for the situation.

The inactivity of the stalkers combined with his struggle to sort out his feelings, Jin lowered his guard. Although in deep thought, he was still aware of his surroundings while the concert was in progress.

When Camellia took her last bow and exited the stage, Jin escorted her to her dressing room. When he opened the door there was someone waiting for them. A couple of male fans sneaked into the room when no one was looking. Jin’s heart recovered from the mini heart attack and he politely asked them to leave the room. They just ignored him and swarmed over to Camellia. They held out their pens and some notebooks to her, an innocent request.

When she finished signing, Jin asked them to leave once again, but it went ignored. The two fans positioned themself in between Jin and Camellia. Once her bodyguard was separated from her, the two fans enacted their evil plan. One of them quickly pulled a knife on Jin while the other person took Camellia away.

The man brandished his blade to intimidate Jin, but he didn’t flinch at the man’s threat. It was obvious the man hadn’t pulled a knife on anyone before. He hesitated before charging at Jin, but all he needed to do was side step the man, grab his wrist, and disarm him. “All right buddy, time for a little nap,” Jin said as he swiftly put the man in a chokehold to subdue him.

Jin left the man lying unconscious on the ground and went to get Camellia back. They hadn’t gotten too far since she put up a good fight. They gagged her and silenced her screams for help. Jin dashed over to her and freed her from the kidnapper. Without breaking a sweat, Jin detached the man from Camellia and took him down. “Go call for help.”

Camellia was flustered and panicked, but she nodded and ran off. While she was getting help, he brought the man back to the dressing room where the other guy was knocked out and casually resting on the ground. “Are you the ones who broke into her home?” Jin questioned. The kidnapper didn’t answer, he just glared at Jin. “How did you guys get in here?”

Again, the man didn’t answer and his friend was no help passed out on the ground. With no answers, Jin tied the man up with a nearby scarf. “Well, if you won’t talk to me, you’ll have lots of fun talking to the police,” Jin sighed. In no time a few security guards arrived to assess the situation and secure the area and not long after that, the police arrived. The two men were officially arrested.

When the chaos subsided, Jin approached Camellia. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” He inspected her for any injuries.

“What’s with that look?” she questioned him. His brows were scrunched and his eyes were so full of worry. “I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

“How could I not worry?” he sighed in relief and he pulled her into a hug.

“Um, Jin? We’re still in public.”

“Oh… right. Sorry,” he apologized and pulled away.

When they gave their statements to the police and everything was sorted out, Jin and Camellia headed back to her home.

“It’s been a long night. You should wash up and get to bed straight away,” Jin suggested.

“You should too.”

“But I have to keep watch just in case there are others out there.”

“But…” Her shoulders drooped and she frowned. “I’m a little scared to be all alone.”

Jin smiled sympathetically. “I understand. I’ll be here, I won’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but… could you stay in the bathroom while I shower?” she asked. Jin’s eyes widened with shock. “I know it sounds weird but I don’t want to be alone and being around you makes me feel at ease.”

“If that’s what you want. As long as you’re safe, it doesn’t matter if I have to wait in the bathroom,” he said.

Jin lied when he said it didn’t matter. The steam floated in the air and fogged up the mirror, setting quite the sensual scene. He suddenly felt like it was the wrong choice to comply with her request; he had no business in the steamy bathroom with a naked woman whom he had feelings for. Every so often, Jin sniffled or cleared his throat just to let Camellia know that he was still there but also to alleviate some of the awkwardness.

She was tucked into bed, but still too paranoid and anxious to sleep. So she suggested that he shower in her bathroom and sleep in her room. His emotions got the better of him and he agreed.

Jin exited the bathroom and Camellia still hadn’t fallen asleep. “You can sleep on my bed,” she invited him.

“Don’t you think I should sleep on the ground?”

“What if I step on you if I need to go somewhere?”

“Then you can step on me,” Jin said. Awkward silence ensued. “Or I could just sleep on the bed.”

They both snuggled into the bed. It was comforting and being with Jin put her mind at ease. Amidst the drowsiness, Camellia was feeling more brave to speak her mind and the words came out easily, “I really like you,” she told him.

“You do?” he asked. His tone was gentle and soft, encouraging her while he was trying to control himself.

“I like being next to you. It’s just nice, y’know?”she continued.

“I like being next to you too,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry for putting you in this position,” she mumbled and it was clear that sleep was taking over.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead after her eyes fully closed and her breathing became even.

The next morning, the bed was empty. Camellia woke up alone and she started to panic. “Jin? Where are you?” she called out.

“I’m here,” he responded. He entered the bedroom to greet her. But the smile on his face was gone.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can’t be your bodyguard,” he told her.

The smile vanished from her face too. “Why not?”

“I can’t be romantically involved with a client. It’s not professional,” he explained. “I think it would be best for your career and your reputation if we didn’t develop an intimate relationship.”

“But Jin… I need you here.”

“I can suggest someone else you could hire as your bodyguard,” Jin said.

“Okay,” she agreed.

And just like that, Jin was replaced. Her new bodyguard, Leon, was strangely very similar to Jin. He was quite close with Jin too and it only made her feel even more heartbroken.

“When Jin falls in love, he acts like a fool,” Leon told her. “He wants to protect you, but perhaps he’s hurting you even more than he thinks.”

“He’s right. It might not look good for my career. So we can’t be together.” Camellia frowned.

“But you’re only human. Why should who you date matter to other people?”

She shook her head and sighed, “ It’s not that simple for someone in the public eye. Everyone always wants to know what’s going on in my life and some people take it to extreme places.”

“Ah, I get it.” Leon nodded. “But still, I think you should be able to be with the person you love. It’s just hell when you can’t be with them.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“But Jin being Jin, he’s a stubborn one. I’ll talk some sense into him,” Leon promised.

She laughed and thanked him. “But Leon, do you have someone you love?” she asked.

Leon nodded. “Yes. I love her very much. But I don’t think she knows how much.”

“Why not? You didn’t tell her?”

“No, I’m just not capable of expressing the full value of my love for her,” Leon bragged.

“I wish you two happiness for the rest of your lives,” she said and he thanked her.

Leon kept his promise and he got Jin to agree to meet him and Camellia at a small cafe. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating fast as if she was about to go on stage and perform. Leon had introduced his partner, Irene, to her too. Maybe Jin was right about professionalism. Leon and Irene were doing some cliche couple things as if they were the only ones there. Luckily Camellia didn’t have to be a third wheel for that much longer as Jin had arrived. Leon and Irene left, leaving Camellia and Jin alone.

“Hi,” she greeted.

“Hey,” he replied. Just like how he greeted her the first time they met. He was so casual and easygoing with everything. It was easy to feel comfortable and safe with him. His crooked grin was as charming as she remembered and in that moment, she fell in love with him again.

“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just say it as it comes to mind,” she said. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her clothes as she began to speak, “I really like you, even after all this time. And I think that we should give ourselves a chance to become something more.”

Jin smiled and nodded in agreement. “You said it perfectly. That’s the reason why I agreed to meet you here. I like you too and I want to give us a chance too.”

The new couple sat there for a few minutes, smiling and giggling, basking in their warm emotions.

Thank you for reading if you've gotten this far <3

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince jin #ikepri jin #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince oc #ikepri oc #ikemen prince camellia

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zorkaya-moved · 1 year

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< i know i’m sounding crazy . >

@reapcrbunny

It would be almost comical if the Elezen woman didn't have a mean streak in her very blood (Are all Ishgardian-born assholes or is it just her? Certainly, it's just her, Ser Aymeric was nothing but a treasure to speak with). The appearance of the moon didn't take away the darkness sitting within. The cruelty experienced across the world as much as forcing the foolish ones to submit, the maiden of snowy plains of Ishgard (once, oh, it was a long time ago) was not a woman to be trifled with. It was luck that helped them remain in the Holy See of Ishgard without

"As long as you're aware, Dahlia," Zarina doesn't waste time being sweet or kind to the other. As beautiful as her voice sounds, she delivers each line with unique sharpness. There's no one who can deny her word if she pushes, oppressiveness is something none of the Scions possessed to the point of her capability. Perhaps, that's why the Warrior of Light never saw the silverette in the Waking Sands. "However, your plea for insanity will not be taken into consideration by me. Thus, I am obligated to call you an idiot instead of an insane person."

It's almost aggravating how she said it all with a smile and a cheerful tone of her voice. There's meanness in each syllable simply because she was a provocateur. There's a desire to see how far Dahlia would go. If Minfilia put such trust in this young woman, then Sokolova ought to watch over her as the last tribute to her deceased (as she expected) friend. Or leader. Could they really be called friends? Minfilia would say so, Zarina would agree. The rest of the Scions? They'd harshly disagree. To them, the Elezen woman of Ishgardian origin was an ink that stained their seemingly pastel image, she was the darkness that had to be used to achieve certain plans. If anything Dahlia could expect the rough treatment here and there but those were only tests given by the Juggernaut of the Seventh Dawn.

"But yes, you do sound like you're not in your rational part of the thinking process," she continues, still smiling pleasantly. "Because of that, I am willing to ignore everything you mentioned previously about how we should proceed. Currently, your safety is my priority and even if you want to go rush ahead into the battle, I will not allow that to happen until your wounds heal." Minfilia certainly didn't mean to treat Warrior of Light like a child, but Sokolova has a preference to keep things under her control until she deems the situation good enough to entrust certain aspects of their own life to the person who she must oversee. For a bit. "Count de Fortemps has high views of you, Dahlia, so let yourself rest for a bit more before you want to argue with me on the state of affairs within Ishgard."

Tataru had a lot of explaining to do to Dahlia as there was no Scion who would speak like that. Well, the Lalafel had a long list of stories about the Juggernaut, including how because of her 'lone wolf' status while traveling around, she didn't listen to anyone's orders and acted solely on her own. Perhaps, her behavior was the most telling. Alas, Tataru would say that she could be ridiculously charming if she wanted, but the only reason she wasn't 'charming' to the Warrior of Light was simply because she was still burdened by the news of Minfilia's possible passing.

"Now rest. I don't need another dead body on my list to take care of. I'll come back to visit you in the Forgotten Knight. Remember not to say my name, alright? Irina would do just fine when we're in public," she winks then, waving her hand to the other before heading to the door. It's time to put on her disguise and exit the tavern without calling for attention. "If you want to find me prior to our established meeting, search for the merchant by the Aetheryte. He wears a silver pendant with a hawk emblem. Ask about a Juggernaut, he'll get it."

#❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.#reapcrbunny #zarina's asshole nature strikes again #dahlia about to go through the first stage of meeting zarina in ffxiv aka gaining her respect in heavensward arc rutoybhrty #it'll be awesome

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

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Reiner Braun | Instinctual Invitations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: ABO Dynamics (Alpha Reiner x Omega Reader), Breeding, Marking, Mating, Knotting, Heats, Ruts, Frenemies to Lovers

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read other fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This was definitely a labor of love. I’ve fallen back into my appreciation for ABO dynamics, and Reiner just screams “perfect mate” to me. 💜

No one made suppressants stronger than Hange. They never divulged just what was in their special concoction, but all you knew was that it was damn near impossible for someone to discern that you were an Omega.

You’d even fooled that naive, arrogant, hubristic Alpha partner of yours for years. There was a particular disdain you held for Reiner. You could never really name it, but all you knew was that working with the giant man made your instincts sour. He seemed so good on the outside, all prideful charm and heavy pats on the shoulders of his peers, but when the two of you worked cases alone, his charisma always had a bite to it.

Maybe it was because he could tell there was something equally off about his “Beta” partner, maybe it was because he had some pent up rage inside him he only let seep out around you. You didn’t know, you didn’t care. You were patiently waiting for him to be re-assigned to the Behavioral Science Unit like he’d requested last month, but Erwin’s dawdling with the request had you worried he wasn’t about to separate his most successful Scout partners, even if they didn’t get along.

“Is my bow tie straight?”

Reiner asked you to hold his drink while he fiddled with the offending cloth.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t even look.”

The whiskey from his glass was expensive, sliding down smooth when you took a drink. Rei let out a very frustrated noise, so loud and huffy it had the guests of the award ceremony glancing toward him. The hotel ballroom was crowded, filled with elites from Military Police, Scouts, even the fucking Garrison. There were too many people here to watch you and Reiner stumble over the acceptance speech; there were too many people here to judge that Scouts were being awarded this time around.

“Now your fucking lipstick is all over it.”

“Oh please, it tastes like cherries, you’ll get over it.”

Both of you were nervous, flattered but timid about being given a Meritorious Achievement Award for all your fieldwork done killing and documenting titans around the outer-wilds of the city. Fighting for survival in the trees was less stressful than trying to make a good impression on the brass as you received one of the highest honors.

You took another gulp of his drink before passing it back, trying to stave off the very worrisome nerves twisting in your gut. Sweat was forming at the nape of your neck, staining your palms. You shifted uncomfortably in your heels, feet feeling heavy.

It made you feel some better that the usually proud Alpha next to you was just as worried about giving a speech in front of Dhalis Zachary. The Premier was known for being strict, for demanding that military appearance be of the highest standard in front of donors.

Reiner was still fucking with his tie, angry muscles about to rip the threads of his tuxedo.

“You look fine,” you sighed, toning back the bitterness. You moved away from the balcony railing, wrapping your fingers around the black polyester ribbon and tightening it into sitting straight under his square jaw. But for some reason, you couldn’t let go, nails gripping into the fabric.

“Are you okay? You looked scared to shit,” Reiner plucked your hands off his tie, holding a wrist in each burning hand, “I can do all the talking, you know. You can just stand there and look pretty.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You weren’t. You knew this feeling, it was old and familiar, a churning pain laced with need slowly brewing in your belly, making you sick.

But your suppressants would take care of the issue, surely it was just your nerves that were making those heats you’d forsaken start to claw at you.

You hadn’t gone through a heat cycle in three years. Hange had suggested you take time off once a year to let your body go through it’s natural process, but you’d been so damn busy that you’d neglected to do so. Besides, you never had any issues, just a few flare ups when a particularly good looking Alpha close to their rut got near you.

This time was different, though, you could feel it. This flame wasn’t going to be extinguished once it got started—you’d have to go home after the gala and curl up, stop taking the suppressants in the morning so your heat could come to life in the next few days.

God you dreaded that feeling, cunt always quivering and squeezing around nothing, sweating in a blanket nest that only carried your scent and maybe a lingering, nameless male scent from a one-night stand.

“Hey,” Rei moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, shaking you, “get your shit together. We’ll be awarded in a few hours and then we can go the fuck home. Tired of being around your bitchy ass anyways.”

His hands were too hot. They were sweaty like yours, making you feel dizzy.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

You could feel it. Reiner could smell it.

“What the fuck is wrong with y—”

He dropped the last syllable, golden eyes turning into molten amber the moment your scent hit him full force. You thought he’d take his hands off, that he’d give you some space, but those instincts to protect must have taken over because he was pulling you closer like that would help.

“You’re a Beta, you don’t go into—”

“Omega, Rei. I’m a fucking Omega and I don’t need you telling anyone about it.”

You whispered your confession, eyes going glassy as you looked around the room, saw faces turning in your direction. Most of the old men here were mated, but that didn’t mean the building brew of the heat of an unmarked Omega wouldn’t catch their attention. Your neck throbbed, scent glands betraying you and pumping beneath your skin.

You felt like clawing at Reiner’s chest, digging your fingers into the perfectly pressed designer shirt and burying your face into it to be overwhelmed by Alpha presence. You thought you could stave this off, but the nerves, this proximity to an Alpha...you needed to get the fuck out of here.

“You’re going to have to take the award for-for both of us,” oh now you were stuttering, you were losing it, Reiner’s deeply masculine scent making you feel like a puddle. You hated these instincts, hated how it made you feel weak, hated how he smelled like the most inviting bakery and familiarity and how it made you want to fall to your knees and beg for the aching hole between your legs to be stuffed.

“You can’t get home on your own, do you know how many Alphas would kill for—”

You were pulling away from him, grabbing your purse so you could scrounge for those emergency suppressants to hopefully curtail this heat.

The pills were absent, your resolve fading as you felt like crumpling into the floor and clutching your stomach. You knew people were starting to notice, noses in the air to find out where the overly sweet smell of an Omega was coming from.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Who else knows?” You didn’t like how the rumble of his voice made your skin tingle, made your panties feel too tight, wet.

“Hange, Levi, the higher ups. They know, they saw it on my app-application. Said it would be…” you were starting to lose your train of coherent thoughts.

“...best if no one knew?”

Omegas were scarce. Omegas were weak. But you’d proven yourself in your training, you were too valuable for Commander Erwin to deny your approval into the Scouts.

“Just—just tell people I got sick. That the stupid little shrimp hors d'oeuvres... f-fuck me,” you meant to say something else, something like they fucked with me, but all you could think about was how those strong hands felt on your shoulders and how they would feel so good pawing at your hips as he plowed into you to relieve your stress.

Making a beeline out of the ornate, crowded ballroom, you had to excuse yourself as you bumped into a few backs and sides, stumbling over your feet as the clawing need in your stomach made you lose focus. You just had to get home. Grab a cab. Hope it’s not an Alpha driving, just get home to your nesting pillows and bury your fingers into your—

Reiner was calling your name. If he was your Alpha you’d be stopping in your tracks to listen to his commands, but he wasn’t. He was your terrible, annoying...strong, capable, definitely had a fat cock…

You didn’t know what you were thinking about when he finally caught up to you, pushing you outside the front doors. You wished it was winter, but it was a hot summer night, which just made the heat in your body worse, made your scent heavier, floating on the humidity. And there were people around, lobby boys taking in bags and tired families dragging their feet inside. Still the fresh air felt good, or at least it did, until Reiner invaded it with his scent again.

“I’ll get you home,” he placed his hand on your lower back, palm touching bare, tender skin from the low cut of your dress, and you came undone. You pressed yourself into his thick chest, wrapping your arms around him and fisting them into the back of his shirt. You could hear him grunt at the contact, the two of you never the type of partners to go beyond a pat on the back or a punch to the arm.

“N-not gonna make it home…”

“Fucking shit I always knew there was something different about you.”

He was dragging you back into the hotel, firm hand around your wrist.

“I can’t help how I was born.”

“Yeah but you could have fucking told me.”

You quit your bickering as Reiner paid for a hotel room, you pressed to his side and trying to mask the scent of ripe, ready to fuck Omega underneath simmering Alpha. You snatched the key card on the counter from a very concerned concierge, listening but not really as she explained there were special rates for those in heat.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

People were staring now, the smell of Omega becoming so heavy it even bothered you. Rei tucked his arm around your waist, leading you toward the elevators. There was a sour, thirsty taste in your mouth as you listened to your heels clink upon the marbled floor. The scent of arousal was on him, but it wasn’t his fault, just his biology reacting to yours.

You straightened your shoulders as you saddled up next to him in the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.

“Reiner—”

“Shut up.”

He was on you in an instant, heavy body pressing you into the mirrored wall.

“I should have known,” his voice was low, like he was divulging a secret, “a little Omega under my nose all long.”

You gasped as one of his hands skimmed up your thigh, thumb swirling circles upon your skin.

“D-don’t do this here, I can’t—” you couldn’t take it, you were putty in his hands, already looping a leg around his thigh and fussing with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin, needed to drown in the scent of an Alpha.

You were half way through peeling his shirt off his pectorals, that goddamn bowtie still in place, when your throat began to hurt. Reiner actually laughed at you when you paused your hasty undressing, having to cradle the left side of your neck as your scent glands throbbed, begging for teeth to be sunk into the sensitive skin to be marked, claimed.

“Don’t you dare think about m-marking me,” god you wouldn’t be able to stop stuttering until you were stuffed with something, until you were able to chase away the aches before they returned again in a few hours.

“But isn’t that what little Omegas want?” He was toying with you, grin so cocky you felt like sinking your thumbs into his smile and hurting him. His fingers were under your dress, dangerously close to your aching sex. His hand was so hot against your skin, so calloused and strong. You felt like Icarus, like you were flying too close to the sun. The pad of his index finger curled against your panties and you could have sworn you were already burning.

You lifted your lips to catch his, only to have him turn his cheek as the elevator chimed, signaling your arrival to your floor.

You followed in his steps, tracing your dress hem from where his giant palm had touched it, your fingers moving it even higher to try to alleviate the warmth stemming from between your legs. The keycard was heavy in your hand, like it was about to open a door to something wicked.

“I-I can take care of this myself,” your placed your back against the door to your room, “and I’ll pay you back for the fees, just let me—”

“Just let you what? Go fuck yourself in misery for the next five days?”

God he looked so tempting, so big. He towered over you, scents of sex and earth and spice, like black cardamum and the bitter burn of peppers. You wanted to sink your fingers into his blonde hair and pull, pull him down to you, into you.

But you reminded yourself you’d be patiently waiting for him to leave your life. Mating with him could have him sticking around, could have the two of you fucking up and getting attached.

“Y-you have to accept the award,” you were literally slipping into the floor, gut twisting so badly that it felt like you were being ripped apart, your heat bursting into full bloom after his teasing touches. Reiner caught your upper arms to keep you up, making you whimper, and you knew the last thing you wanted was to be alone, even if it meant ruining yourself on Reiner’s cock.

“Your scent has made me harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life. I paid for the room because I’m staying in it, sweetheart.”

He took the card from your weak fingers and shoved it into the reader, a big, heavy palm pressing against your stomach and pushing you into the open doorway. He kept his fingers on you, twisting his knuckles into the fabric of your dress.

“Rei, don’t—”

“I’m so fucking tired of playing games with you.”

The threads snapped with a twist of his wrist, the delicate front of your dress parting as the heavy hotel door slammed shut. His hands were rough, quick, tearing and pawing at your dress, your bra, and all you could do was moan and kick your heels off to be forgotten on the floor.

He pulled his crisp black jack off his shoulders, tossing it onto a desk chair, trousers and everything underneath following.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You were already on him, pressing your naked chest to his and standing on your toes so you could bury your face into his neck. You couldn’t help but to purr, that soothing musk of Alpha encompassing all your senses. Fingers sunk into his body, your tongue hot against his skin as you laid kitten licks to his throat.

“No wonder I can’t stand you,” Reiner’s hands were gliding down your back, admiring smooth, willing flesh, “why you make me fucking crazy.”

“Please shut up and fuck me.”

His tempting hands found your neck, thumb petting at the sore, pounding spot on your throat. It only made your scent stronger, made you keen and practically fall into him.

“Kiss me first, like you mean it.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

Any fight you had left dissipated when his tongue slipped into your mouth, hands still encased around your neck and keeping you pliant for him to taste. Your nails sunk into his shoulders, toes hurting from strain as you pushed your mouth up into his. God he tasted so good, like the first taste of food after starving, and your body had been starving for years. Unknotted, unmarked, your body was screaming for him, looking for an Alpha to fill you in ways that your measly attempts over the years never could.

Violence was on the tip of his tongue, you could taste it, feel it in the way he started to squeeze the delicate column of your throat. Rut was kicking in, the overwhelming pheromones of Omega making his body respond, ready to knot, ready to devour.

Slick was pouring down your thighs as you kissed him, body overly ready for him. Your stomach was twisting in coils, so painful that it made you gasp and pull away from his kiss, ready to fall into the floor if his hands didn’t keep you on your feet.

“H-hurts, so, so bad,” you whined, trying to focus your breathing.

Reiner started slowly moving you back toward the bed, thumbs now petting at the apples of your cheeks as tears started to form in your lower lashes.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Alpha will take care of you.”

Normally, the thought of Rei referring to himself as Alpha would repulse you, make you gag at how arrogant he was, but in this moment it made you so weak, made you moan as he crawled over your body on the bed. You were so little under him, dwarfed by brawn, small prey begging to be snatched and taken.

His title was on the front of your mouth, ready to fall out, for you to call him what he was to you, but the sliver of sense you had left kept it at bay. You knew calling him Alpha could put you in a heat induced headspace you might not be able to come out of, might have you making lusty, hasty decisions that you’d regret once this god forsaken heat was over.

“Rei-ner,” it was forced, he could tell, the syllables stuck to your tongue.

He nuzzled into your neck, purring as he fell into the intoxication of your scent glands. Hands raked over your body, each touch jolting you like electricity, the webs of nerves under your skin coming alive as he toyed with you. Your legs spread instinctively to make room for his hips, but he kept his weight off of you, propping himself on his elbows.

“So fucking perfect,” he mused, thumb trailing along your swollen lips, smearing the lipstick he’d complained about earlier, “should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve fucked you through every heat.”

His words made you coo, made your fingers weave into his blonde hair and pull him down for another kiss. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, whiskey and fire and something sickenly sweet, like pure honey over powdered sugar. Reiner was still holding back, you could practically feel growls stuck in his chest when your hands eagerly wandered over his plush pectorals.

So big. He’d be such a good protector. Such a good mate.

“Need you, need you, Rei, p-please,” you shifted your hips as you spoke, ready to flip onto your stomach so he could take you from behind. It’s how you got through all the heats you ever had before; face down in pillows, letting some Alpha fuck you senseless like nature intended. But his hands stilled you, pinned you down below him.

“Wanna watch your face as I take what’s mine.”

The tips of your ears felt scorched from his words and the blood in your body flushed under your skin.

His. You wanted to be his, fuck, you wanted your Alpha, needed him, need him to knot you and—

“Take me, f-fuck, I hurt so bad,” you were crying again, the pain in your womb like a knife sawing through flesh, twisting and turning.

“Gonna take such good care of you.”

And you knew he would. That’s the way Reiner was. A protector. A provider. Arrogant to mask the sweetness, prideful to hide the humility.

Big hands cupped your cheeks as his cockhead brushed through your folds, sending your neck flying back as you screamed just from the relief of feeling him spread your overheated slick.

“Gonna fill you to the brim with my cum.”

That broke you. Your last little grip on your sanity was remembering that Hange’s suppressants didn’t mix well with birth control. You hadn’t been on the pill for years, and with how strong this heat was, how repressed your body had felt, you were probably more fertile than you’d ever been.

“Fuck,” your hands found his face, and when he looked at you, you sailed away in the gold currents of his gaze, “breed me.”

His massive cock started to sink into your tight hole, the copious amounts of slick gushing from inside of you making his penetration easier. But even still, he was so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggled to breach that first tight ring of muscle. You hissed, not from pain, but from relief, so ready to be full that no amount of stretching would detract from your pleasure.

Heavy hands were on your hips, pulling you down to take all of him in. He was finally growling, your walls constricting around him and making him go absolutely mad.

“Gonna breed you, Omega, give you my babies, f-fuck yes, have you dripping with cum.”

The blinding pleasure was almost devastating, making you feel numb, making you feel like this was all you ever needed in the whole goddamn world—all you needed was Reiner’s cock to bring you rapture, to have you ascending to the holy planes that zealots coveted.

“Move,” it was a quick plea, your legs curling around his waist in encouragement, “please, please fuck me, breed me.”

He started a slow pace, but was enough to have you spiraling, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in him. One of his hands swatted at your cheek, just enough to sting.

“Eyes open. Watch me, be with me.”

You tried your best to obey, but the drumming of his cock in your cunt had you seeing dark spots even as your eyes opened again. Reiner kept his hand on your face, locking it around your jaw so you watched him as he fucked you, his beautiful, defined cheekbones tinted pink as he became overwhelmed with his rut.

How many times had you looked at him before? How many days had you spent working alongside him, doing your best to avoid looking at him? He got under your skin, made you feel weak. Maybe this was why, maybe you were repressing just how much you wanted him. Maybe he was meant to be your—

“Alpha,” you breathed it out, let it fan over his ears, let it sink into his psyche.

The word felt like a relief, like a sin. That attachment you feared was already caging you in.

His pace kicked up to something brutal as you acknowledged not just his biology, but his title to you.

You screamed so loudly that it hurt, had your throat burning as your moans bled into whines and mewls as he took from your willing cunt.

A cacophony of sex filled the hotel room, the sound of primal grunts, shrill little screams, of flesh against flesh, balls slapping against your ass, his cock ramming into your squelching, drooling pussy.

“That’s right, fuck, you’re mine, Omega. Mine.” He repeated the last word a few more times as he bent your legs farther back, straddling your thighs with his muscular legs as he folded you into a mating press. His cock began to stroke that sweet, spongy spot inside of you at the new angle, drilling into you at just the right curve to have you cumming before your body could even enjoy the build up.

You shattered, cunt clenching and as you were so pleased to orgasm around a thick Alpha cock. You were babbling nonsense, even thanking him for letting you cum. Just a string of pleas and AlphaAlphaAlpha pouring off your tongue and melting into his sweaty skin.

Your orgasm had your scent fresh in the room, had your neck fucking pounding with the need to be bitten, to be claimed.

Reiner could smell it, could smell your insatiable need, instincts picking up on words you just couldn’t say.

“Let me have you,” he demanded it between kisses to your shoulder, lips trailing up and stopping at the saccharine reek of your scent glands just below your jaw.

He wouldn’t claim you without permission, he wasn’t that kind of man, wasn’t that kind of Alpha.

You fell into a symphony of moans, neck tilting back in instinctual insinuation, but mouth still unwilling to make that plea. But then his scent overwhelmed you again, like spicy hot peppers and the sweetest sugar flooding over your body. You knew that scent by heart, had smelled it in smaller increments every day for years, had tried to ignore it, but now you couldn’t.

His cock was swelling inside of you, his ruthless pace and your lingering orgasm edging him closer to release. The hand on your hip had bruised your skin, perfect indent of his palm, his long fingers, etched into your skin. The other was pulling at your neck, pushing your face to the side as he skimmed the bridge of nose along your skin, waiting, wanting.

“Omega,” he purred, calling you, begging you, “please, yours, mine.”

He was losing his thoughts too, drowning in instincts and euphoria.

Your fingers laced in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to what he wanted.

“Yours, Alpha, f-fuck,” your acceptance was loud and clear, even through the fog and sounds of sex. One bite was all it took, teeth barely sinking into your skin. You cried from how good it felt, that ache finally silenced as his tongue lapped over that patch on your neck that could now only belong to him.

A bond was tightening, something scientists still couldn’t fully explain—being marked, claimed, it tethered you to someone beyond all comprehension. It was like making a deal with a devil, selling your soul, and for you, it was an admittance to attraction and acceptance of intimacy that you felt with Reiner.

The act of marking had his cock swelling inside you, knotting you and spilling his seed into your depths to stay. That overbearing fullness had you tumbling over the orgasmic mountain again, had you clinging and screaming, colors you’d never fucking seen before bursting in the corners of your eyes and traveling over your body like fireworks. You shivered in his arms, quaked, fell apart, and he held you. Purring, comforting, like he’d finally brought you home.

Time didn’t seem to exist, lines between pleasure and pain so blurred that you couldn’t even feel the burn in your legs from being spread open for so long. You stayed in that mating press for what felt like hours. Reiner kept kissing at your neck, letting his scent blend in with yours.

You’d never smell the same again. You’d always be tainted with him, carry bits of his scent with you forever. The thought didn’t even bother you, just brought you comfort, made you purr as your fingers lazily threaded through his hair.

Finally, his cock became soft enough for him to pull out of you, lines of cum dripping from your abused pussy as he fell on his back next to you.

The love hormones kicked in, had you curling around him even as you stretched out weary muscles. You were ready to sleep, ready to rest until the next wave of your heat came in a few hours and had you pleading for him again.

But a pesky thought plagued your mind, a jealous one, one you’d never had about another Alpha before.

How many other Omegas had wanted what was yours? How many of them had Reiner denied a claim to before you?

“Why me?” you murmured into his heaving chest, fingertips drawing aimless circles in his downy chest hair.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You sat up to look at him, to let him cup your cheek as his eyes flickered over your face.

“How many Alphas have wanted you?”

There was solace in knowing he had the same questions.

“Haven’t had a heat since I met you.”

Concern flashed across his face, that intensity you were used to seeing in his brow coming to life.

��You won’t do that again.”

His command made you feel warm, had your belly already pulling and churning and wanting again.

“I won’t. Because even though you’re a shitty partner, you’re my mate.”

That realization swept over him hard and fast, a range of emotions painting his features before he settled on a smile.

His thumb petted your skin, bringing you in for a kiss.

“You’re the only award I needed tonight.”

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #abo #reiner smut #aot #snk #snk reiner #aot reiner #attack on titan #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #reiner x you #reiner braun x you

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 3 years

Text

Did You Mean It?

Pairing: Dad!Din Djnarin x GN foundling! Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:1,449

Summary: Din has been teaching you Mando'a and does not know how to react after you call him buir (father) for the first time.

Request: Heyyy, love your writing! Definitely not enough platonic mando fics out there. But I was just wondering if you were interested in making a tag list, if not that's fine I just don't want to miss anything you write! Also, if your still taking requests I was wondering if you would write a fic around the reader calling Din some form of dad for the first time. By accident or on purpose (like after Din teaches her the word buir) it doesn't matter to me. I'm just curious how Din would react lol!

A/N: Hey hey!! I’m fairly new to tumblr so I’ll do my best to do tag lists in the furure! Just let me know if you wanna join so I can write it down somewhere :)) (That was for the general public I’ll definitely mark your name down) I’ve seemed to have grown a habit for writing in Din’s perspective haha, but yes I do think that no matter how Din first hears the reader call him buir he’d still be like “...me?” I hope what I did was okay and you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for liking what I write!!!

Although you were not raised in Mandalorian culture, Din took it upon himself to teach you Mando’a. He first brought it up some time after his encounter with Bo Katan and the other Mandalorians. When he finally saw others of his kind, albeit reassuring, it reminded him that the effort it took to find them could only mean his people were slowly being wiped out. Din needed to hold onto his deteriorating culture, and hoped that you would take an interest in learning from it as a member of Clan Mudhorn. When he inquired about your interest in learning the language he did so thinking that you would probably be daunted by the challenge. He wouldn’t have been offended if you declined as he didn’t want to force you into something you had no interest in, but much to his surprise you were ecstatic about it!

It warmed Din’s heart to watch you fumble over syllables during your first lessons. He began with simple introduction phrases and vocabulary. Nothing too difficult but sufficient enough to help you progress. You were often praised for your efforts and encouraged to converse with Din for practice, which you did. He often corrected you on grammar mistakes and your pronunciation. One thing you hated was how he wouldn’t remind you of a word you’d forgotten during a conversation. He’d simply ignore your plea to remind him and continue his work, leaving you to try to remember the term by yourself.

After some time, you were capable of holding simple conversations. Nothing too complex, but enough for you to get by if there was ever the need for you to use it. On one occasion, it helped you avoid getting arrested.

Although it was not entirely your fault, it often sounded like it was the way Din told it. The Clan had taken the day off to visit a local market after a successful bounty to stock up on fresh supplies and eat a good meal. Din gave you several credits to spend on whatever you pleased while he went to run his errands. The day was particularly sunny. Shoppers wandered around Din, although he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the civilians with his beskar. Curious eyes casted towards him but he paid no mind to them as he walked up to a vendor and greeted her with a nod.

“Can I buy a holopad around here?” He inquired, waiting for the vendor to return his change. She paused a moment, credits in separate hands as she thought a moment.

“Not too far off that road,” Din followed her gaze and thanked her, pocketing his change before making his way to the shop she’d pointed out to. In truth, he already had a holopad of his own but wanted to give one to you for your upcoming birthday. He approached the shop, pausing a moment to gaze at the door, before making a move to open it. Wait.

What was that?

Din slowly moved back and surveyed the area. He could have sworn he could have heard something familiar. He strained his ears to listen once more.

“Buir!”

Suddenly his attention was caught by your figure as you desperately ran towards him, almost tripping on your feet with Grogu clinging onto you in your arms. Behind you was a vendor tailing you, anger written over his expression. Din marched forward quickly, pushing you and Grogu behind him when the two of you were close enough and held a hand out as the vendor approached.

“What did you do?” He looked down at you, not waiting for an answer but rather looked at the vendor. He hunched over, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Can I help you?”

He inhaled sharply and straightened himself up after gathering his breath, gesturing at you. “Is this yours?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Din’s voice was monotonous despite the sarcastic comment. You made a face at the man from your place behind Din. The man inhaled sharply at your expression, though Din chose to ignore your actions.

“Is there a problem here?” Din inquired, pushing you further behind his back so you wouldn’t upset the man even more.

“I caught them trying to steal some of my produce. I have half the mind to call the sheriff-”

“That’s not true!” You interjected, pushing yourself into view but Din was fast enough to push you back in your place.

“Y/N.” Din warned, “vaabir no ukoror bic. Tonaid was bic?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance, raising Grogu higher in your arms. “Grogu.”

“Kaysh hiibir mayen?”

“Nayc, he grabbed some things and I didn’t realize.”

Din understood now that you meant this was just a misunderstanding. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and turned to the impatient vendor. “My foundling has a habit of grabbing anything he can get a hold of. He’s still a child. You can understand.”

At first the vendor was reluctant to leave, convinced that Din’s little clan members were nothing but no good thieves. He even insisted that Din paid reparations for what Grogu had taken, for he tried to eat some before you took it from his mouth. It took some convincing, and several credits, to make the vendor walk away satisfied.

“Well, that’s that.” Din sighed, shaking his head a little and tucked his hands onto his hips. He turned to the two of you, “C’mon, let’s get something for you two to eat.”

At the local cantina Grogu helped himself to a hearty bowl of soup while you ate your own favorite meal from there. Din simply sat back, checking his credits before placing the payment on the table so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. When he was done and his mind left wondering, he thought back to when he first heard you call for him in Mando’a.

Buir…

The term you used was one that a child would call its father. You called him father. He wondered if it came out naturally for you, or if you used it because you had to prove that you and Din had some sort of relation. That must have been the case. You’d only been a member of the clan for almost a year now. Seeing Din as a guardian should be natural, but a parental figure? Din wasn’t so sure. He had grown fond of having you around. As an older child you were a far better conversationalist than Grogu was and many times showed that you trusted Din. But still, Din wasn’t your father. He had to remind himself that sometimes. But still, he couldn’t stop wondering how you saw him as he watched you eat your meal.

“Did you mean it?” Din didn’t know where he found the courage to start speaking, but he didn’t stop himself.

“Hm?” You lifted your head, your dish in your hands as you were about to take a bite.

“You called me… buir.” The word sounded strange to call himself.

Your face lit up when you reminisced the incident. “Oh! I mean, yeah. I knew it was the only way to grab your attention. It was really crowded today.”

Din chuckled, “It worked.”

You couldn’t help but smile before taking another bite into your meal, smiling to yourself at its taste. It’d been awhile since the clan ate at a cantina. It’d been awhile that the kiddos had gone out actually. Why was it that every time they joined Din out into town trouble would occur? Din shook his head lightly, deeming that only he would have ended up with such troublemakers.

“But, it’s not like I don’t see you as one.”

You stared back at him, cocking your head to the side and giving him a small smile. Although you couldn’t see it, Din held a big smile underneath his helmet. For a moment he almost forgot that you couldn’t see his expression and collected himself as you waited for his response.

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N.” He beamed, turning to wipe some smudge off of Grogu’s face. “You’re a great kid.”

You grinned widely and a pleasant moment of silence falls upon you two despite the noisy environment. Din told the two of you to finish soon so that the group would return to the ship before nightfall. During the last moments of supper, you and Din conversed with each other in Mando’a to practice your pronunciation once again. At some moments you grazed through phrases you previously struggled on, though you did not realize it Din certainly did, and it made him even more proud of how you’d grown.

#din djarin x reader #dad!din #din djarin #grogu #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #x you #reader insert #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

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Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #here to misbehave #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #spencer reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #reid request

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

NOT YOUR FAIRYTALE - ft. myg

What do you do when you've called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother's grouchy best friend, of course.

pairing. min yoongi. sort of.

genre + rating. fluff-adjacent. general.

warning / tags. mentions of infidelity, cake tasting, cake tasting isn’t a euphemism, fluff and hurt/comfort, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, friendship, friendship/love, childhood friends.

reading. n/a. a stand-alone three part one-shot.

word count. ~1850

chapter iii.

“I didn’t mean it, Yoongi.”

The apology is off your tongue and crashing into his ears before you have a second to consider it, pleading colouring syllables in soft shades of blue. You hate the way he’s looking at you, like you’ve found the chink in his armour and are on the verge of exploiting it.

“It’s fine.” Over a decade of friendship tells you it’s decidedly not fine. His concession comes far too quickly, meant to placate whatever guilt he’d accidentally kicked up.

It makes you feel worse, the weight increasing tenfold when he offers you his seldom-seen smile. Gums flash, corner of his mouth hitching over soft pink tissue. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes though, falling just short of the endlessly dark depths of his irises.

“Seriously. Forget about it.” You know he’s doing his best to force you onward but you can’t help but dig your figurative heels further into the dirt. An immovable force.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeat, voice thick with meaning.

Yoongi huffs a little, seemingly frustrated. You shrink a little further in on yourself, shoulders dropping and lips shifting in tandem. You’re probably pouting. You feel his stare from your periphery, feline gaze focused wholly on the way your mouth turns and turns around words you’re trying to perfect.

Silence stretches on, longer than you can stand and far more awkward than you’re used to. You can feel it like a suffocating weight, a goose down comforter in the heat of summer - heavy and unpleasant.

“I’m sorry.” It squeaks out in the same instant he sighs. He sounds less irritated, though you can see the tension in his chin, how it jumps the muscle in his jaw.

“You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“But I don’t think you’re heartless, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have said it.” You say it like it’s crucial - as if you might perish if you don’t get them out. They sweep into the spaces between you, earnest and full of fear, filling all the cracks left by your own hand.

You layer your reassurances as best you can, tongue tripping over teeth as you ramble about all the different ways you see him.

In shades of diffused morning light, lined with silver like a physical reminder that there’s always hope. Through the lens of childhood admiration, sprinkled with childish laughter and doe-eyed awe. With as much unconditional love as you’ve ever been capable of, wrapped up in furtive glances and curious, miserably nonchalant texts to your brother.

It comes and comes, word vomit that won’t stop until you’re brought back by the expression on his face. It’s tender, bemused - reminiscent of a parent of an overzealous child. You’ve seen it a million times before, though the instances were much fewer and far between now that you were older.

You immediately backtrack. “I’m sorry.” This time it’s for wasting his time, for being his best friend’s annoying little sister.

You’re tumbling over your own two feet again. You’ve said too much by the time he speaks at all.

“You’re more than that.” A statement of fact, seemingly, by how he delivers it with such ease, as if it hasn’t just set your heart off in your chest, the poor thing stuttering to life (or death). You’re not sure.

Despite your best efforts, the singular word gives you away, coloured canary red with hope. “What?”

If he’d heard your question at all, he says nothing, footsteps never faltering. He’s walking ahead like he hasn’t just turned your world on its axis, throwing you completely off-balance. He doesn’t even offer a glance back, halfway down the block by the time you come to your senses.

You jog to catch up, fingers eager to close the distance you quickly eat up. You settle into a measured pace behind him, though your mouth moves at a mile a minute. You can feel the maddening persistence in your bones, hear it as it carves demands into what was once comfortable silence.

“Why did you say that?” No response. “Yoongi!” He doesn’t even flinch, gaze trained ahead as if he’s never been in Apgujeong before and he’s terribly interested in everything but you.

The distinct urge to stomp your foot fizzles through your limbs and you almost do. You’re rooting yourself to the spot, sneaker raised comically, when he rounds on you. Brows have disappeared into his swath of dark hair and his chin tilts just so, studying you quizzically. It looks like he’’s having an internal debate as to whether he should rib you further.

He decides against it - returning to the conversation you’re so adamant to have. “You know, for being a Kim, you’re not that bright.”

“Excuse me?” Indignation bursts out your mouth. You’re focusing too hard on the words he’s spoken than the implication behind them. They sail over your head, lost to the pretty coral that streaks across the sky and eats up the horizon.

To Yoongi, it’s like watching his literal heart fly out the window. He’s a little exasperated when he speaks again. “You’re my best friend’s little sister. I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“What’re you saying?” Because you’re really confused now. You think Namjoon would be too.

Are you even having the same conversation?

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” The line of his mouth quirks, corner stretching into something that borders on a smirk. It’s devilish - decidedly not something you’re used to - and you imagine your stomach kickflips before wrecking itself on the pavement.

Your silence seems to be answer enough.

He heaves a sigh as if he’s been terribly inconvenienced, arms folding over his chest. The gesture should read as don’t come near me! but you have the very distinct urge to fold yourself under his arms. You resist it by biting down hard on your bottom lip.

“I’ve had feelings for you since we were kids. Specifically since you had your 10th grade ballet recital and you kept the bear I got you.”

You remember the day like it was yesterday. You’d been lucky enough to land the coveted spot in the winter showcase and he’d been there, shoulder to shoulder with your brother, when you’d taken your bow. The bouquet of peonies he’d brought you - in soft shades of blush and violet, your favourite colours - had nearly engulfed your frame and you’d had trouble holding both it and the sweet brown bear that came with it.

The same bear that still sat on your bedside table, propped up beside your charging cable and yearly planner. The one you’d cried yourself hoarse over after you thought you lost it during your freshman year of college.

“I don’t understand.” You frown, deeply. You can feel the little dent between your brows. It comes out when you’re stressed or confused or, in this instance, both.

He’s more teasing than unkind: “Like I said - not that bright.”

You ignore the dig. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t do that to Joon. I promised I wouldn’t.”

Somehow, that’s more of a revelation than Yoongi’s confession.

“He knows?” You can’t help the gasp that ricochets out of your mouth, belligerent and betrayed. You’re already running through the 100 different ways you’re going to kill your brother. Because he’d known! While you’d pined, Namjoon had known and simply stood by. “He knows how I feel about you and he didn't say anything?”

You know if you think about it, you can’t blame him. You’d given him a hard time too when he and Sora seemed to get along a little too well. Call it a sibling thing.

In the heat of the moment though, you’re livid. So Yoongi does what he does best and redirects effortlessly.

“—feel?”

The prompt reassigns all focus back to him, your anger toward your brother all but forgotten. You think you could give Pikachu a run for his money by the surprise that works itself into your expression. Heat licks itself across your cheeks, rolling like a steam engine over the exposed skin of your neck and up past your ears. Had it suddenly jumped 20 degrees?

“I mean felt.”

When Yoongi steps forward, you’re hyper fixated on the way his mouth bends and bows, gums and neat white enamel revealed by the motion. You’re rooted to the spot as he’s suddenly all you can see, crown of dark hair blocking the light from behind him, narrow shoulders curling in on you. He’s near enough you can smell his comforting, woody scent.

You haven’t been this close in - well, ever, you think.

Then he kisses you - a chaste thing, right on the cheek - and you forget how to breathe.

“I guess we’ll need to change that.”

SIX MONTHS LATER

“I’m honestly surprised,” your boyfriend drawls, the picture of disinterest as he leans himself against the packed counter top, elbows propping himself up. He’s staring out at the sea of people swarming the apartment, a comfortable group of new and old coming together to celebrate something very important.

He watches as your brother narrowly misses knocking over the beer pong table, earning a groan from the participants. Jungkook yells something about his shot being messed up; Jimin denies a re-throw. There’s more incoherent shouting.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re at his back, arms twined neatly around his slender waist as you press your face into the warm expanse of his back. The sweater he wears is overly soft from years of wear and it feels good under your reddened cheek.

You’d had a bit to drink and you were feeling exceptionally affectionate.

“You actually kept it a secret.” Not that he hadn’t figured it out himself. It was in your nature to throw surprise parties - you did for Namjoon and Jin and that loud best friend of yours - so he’d only figured he would get one when the time came.

“We’re very good at keeping secrets in this family, remember?” Your voice carries past the cotton of his clothes, filtering through laughter to kick his beating heart into overdrive.

“Oh, how could I forget.” He snorts quietly, turning in the same instance you unlatch yourself from him. He has to fight the look of disappointment that threatens to pull his mouth into a pout, brow knitting in disapproval as you round on the refrigerator.

It’s only when you spin back to face him that his expression cracks and re-sets itself with glee. Now he’s actually surprised.

Because you’ve got a cake box from the same bakeshop you’d gone cake tasting at. He recognizes the logo on the front and the pretty frosting behind the plastic cover. It’s shades of cream and citrus and decorated with cherries. Your - and his - favourite cake from that day.

“You’re not supposed to see the cake ahead of time!” It’s Namjoon bursting into the kitchen looking alarmed.

You laugh first, bright and sunny. “It’s a birthday cake, not a wedding dress.”

But as you kiss him, cake cradled gingerly between your bodies, Yoongi thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing you in that, either.

notes. this final chapter was short and sweet but i hope you enjoyed it. thank you for reading! x

tag list. @hoodmeup @loveyoongles @vi-hoshi

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Seven Sentences Game

Challenge: post the last 7 sentences you wrote and tag 7 people

Tagged by @romanticism-is-maudlinism so here’s a bit I wrote for It’s The End of the World As We Know It (I Don’t Feel Fine), part of my Ric Grayson fix-it series Bury Your Dead. This part is Jason and Cass because I absolutely love pitting the two of them against each other as I view them as capable of getting under each other’s skin in a way nobody else can. Also, they’re not having a good day here, and they’re letting it out.....another part of their dynamic in my view is I see them as being unafraid to NOT pull their punches with each other, emotionally speaking.

Tagging @rose-blooms-red and whoever else still hasn’t done this, since I’m like, days behind lol. Also, its been way too many days since I opened up a WIP document so I used this to just start writing and I’m just posting what I wrote instead of just seven sentences. Also also, counting is hard.

******

“You used me.” Jason voiced the realization with what he thought was admirable aplomb, all things considered. He didn’t even reach for his gun or anything. Course, if that had less to do with the fact that this was his sister and more that this was his sister who would just take his gun away and smack him with it if he ever drew on her, well. No one would ever know. This was his internal monologue, dammit.

For her part, Cass said nothing. Not that he’d expected her to. Most people assumed her carefully constructed silences were all just a control freak issue born of her aphasia, but they were a conversational tactic in and of themselves. Leave no trait unweaponized, after all.

That was their family credo, wasn’t it?

“That’s why you pulled me into this instead of doing it yourself. It was never about doing this together. It was because all your information gathering resources run through B or Oracle’s networks, and they would have wanted to know why you were looking into these particular names. But you know I have my own networks for when I want their noses butting out of my affairs, so you outsourced to me.”

Lacking little sister’s comfort with the quiet, Jason filled it with his continued musings, as he circled her like a creeper. Then he stopped the circling because her refusal to shift even to track his movements made it impossible to avoid being aware of the ‘like a creeper’ part while doing that. Ugh, she was just the worst.

“Were you looking for a denial?” She asked at last. Her bored tone made it obnoxiously anticlimactic.

“Nah, just pointing out that you’re as manipulative as the rest of us, oh much vaunted ‘best of us.’“

She smiled sharply. “I see that now Dick’s not here to project your insecurities onto, you’ve shifted them to me. Fun.”

Damn. He’d been mostly going for some kinda annoying sing-song rhyme thing there, but he might have to give her that point regardless. Fucking Freudian slips.

“And I know who I am,” she said. “The only one here afraid of a little introspection is you.”

“Challenge accepted!”

Cass rolled her eyes.

To be fair, the dramatically pointed finger might have been a bit over the top.

“See, you know what’s still curious to me? The why of it all. Why you’ve been going to such great lengths uncovering these little secrets of Dick’s, leaving no stone unturned when it comes to his potential unfinished business. Why you were so worried that Julienne might have been his. And you know what I think?”

She raised an eyebrow sarcastically. Jason didn’t know how else to describe it, but it was definitely what happened. That was a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

“I think its because you feel guilty.”

“Guilty,” she repeated, with a full speech’s worth of skepticism packed nice and tight into just the two syllables.

“Yup. Guilty. Because you don’t want there to be any reason he has to go back to being Dick Grayson,” he said with a flourish, relishing the way her gaze narrowed. "Anything making him feel an actual need to get his memories back. Because you don’t want him to be Dick Grayson. You want him to stay Ric. And you feel guilty about that, but its the truth all the same.”

“And why would I want that?”

“Because you want to keep believing I’m just an outlier.”

She stilled, which was a testament to him for being able to note the difference at all. Muscles vibrating with the faintest of microtensions. Here there be dragons.

Just meant he was right.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’ve always been able to explain away the old man’s certain....aggressiveness towards me because of how much time I’ve spent physically at odds with the fam. Muddies the water. Makes it hard to see clearly where its just him reacting to a potential threat to his family and where he’s being the threat. But what if its not just me?”

Again, still, additionally, she remained quiet.

“And I think you know its not. I think you’ve suspected for awhile, even. But there’s a difference between knowing, and knowing.....and as long as Dick is still Ric, there’s no way to really know, right? But with all the dots he’s dropped without being able to connect them the way people with more of the whole picture can, like us.....once he gets his memories back, you couldn’t just not ask anymore. You’d have to know, once and for all. And you don’t want that. You’re afraid of that point of no return, because once past it, you might have to face that what you see when you look at B isn’t all there is to him. And if you can be that wrong about him? Well. You could be wrong about everything. And I think that scares the shit out of you, so yeah. You want Dick to stay Ric, and you feel guilty as fuck about it, but that doesn’t change the facts. And that’s what I think.”

She pursed her lips, the portrait of calm acceptance as she absorbed his tough love or total bullshit, depending on your point of view, and nodded once. Great. He was out here laying down harsh truths like he was.....someone who lays down a lot of stuff, whatever, look he was exhausted from all that unpacking, leave him alone, he needed to rest, but the point was.....all that and the best he got was a fucking nod? Screw it. Next time he was just gonna cut his losses and try for getting blood from a stone instead. Felt like that’d be more rewarding. Might see some actual dividends there.

Cass raised her hands and started making swift, fluid gestures that took him an embarrassing couple seconds to recognize as speech. Never as quick to transition from spoken word to signed as she was, he was left mentally running to catch up. Course, he suspected that was at least partially her intent.

“That’s what I love about you, little brother. Even when you have no clue what you’re talking about, you’re not afraid to commit and take it all the way.”

Punctuating with a middle finger, she pivoted sharply and stalked off into the darkness, vanishing within seconds.

Ever the conversationalist, his sis.

#i headcanon Cass as having asphasia and dyslexia btw #since DC's never actually specified what neurodivergencies she has and there's a whole thing I have written out for WHY I headcanon that #but I can not find it #it exists though!#but yeah I dont know where #also Cass and Jason both insisting on being older and referencing each other as littl ebrother and little sister #is my longstanding headcanon for those unfamiliar #as they are canonically close in age but its never been specified which is technically older #so I go with the idea that Jason is chronologically older by a few months #but Cass is physiologically older by a couple months if you don't count the time Jason was dead #with it thus being a point of contention between them #as Jason can not insist on being the elder WHILE making a big deal out of having been dead for months #unlike most of them who have died #and thus this thwarts one of his favorite conversational gambits #and makes him sulky #and thus Cass enjoys making the most out of this familial controversy #and he knows exactly what she's doing but he can't like.....contest it without admitting to the #emotional manipulation he's going for WHEN he leans into the okay but I was dead for months angle and brings it up #in conversation #ahhh the many dysfunctions of the Wayne siblings

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jonahlovescoffee · 4 years

Text

Mistletoe | J.M.

a/n: i suck at writing. the only thing im good at is procrastinating my procrastination so send help pls :/ this fic was supposed to be up before Christmas but i just finished writing it today and i’m not even proud of it :’) anyways, happy reading and be sure to tell me what you think in the end <3

summary: all you wanted to do was kiss your boyfriend under the mistletoe, but things didn’t work out as planned.

warning: secondhand embarrassment, fluff & some mildly suggestive themes in the end bc i couldn’t help it lmao

word count: 2407

“And that’s what I call a perfect plan,” Emily threw her arms up in the air excitedly, thankfully not getting the attention of anyone else in the cafe. She had just finished explaining the details of her stupid plan to make your boyfriend finally kiss you that was admittedly not so stupid after you ran through the whole thing once again in your head. What’s the worst possible outcome of her plan? Him hating you forevermore? You highly doubt that’d happen so maybe this plan was actually worth a try after all.

“Do you think this is a good idea though, I mean I don’t wanna come off as too needy or anything...” you rambled on nervously, your hands fidgeting with the hem of the beige sweater you were wearing.

“You always overthink everything,” Emily landed a firm reassuring pat on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be completely fine. Couples kiss each other all the time! And it’s about time for that dip to do the same to you too.”

You and Jonah had been dating for quite a while now — nearly a month and a half to be exact — but you both had never kissed. His previous girlfriend had left him heavily scarred and this was your first romantic relationship with anyone, meaning that you were too inexperienced in this relationship department to know how it works, so of course both of you had agreed to take it slow. Don’t get you wrong, he did shower you with affection all the time through other methods, mainly through intimate gestures but he didn’t make a move to take it any further and you being the useless coward you were, you didn’t even dare to initiate it either even though you’d gotten comfortable enough with Jonah to the point where you do want to kiss him. Very badly.

Now, you knew that each and every relationship was different and there was nothing wrong with not choosing to express one’s love through something as absurd as kisses, but after Daniel accidentally let the fact that Jonah actually kissed his ex on their first date slip during one of your conversations with him, you started to wonder whether you were the problem. Were you not pretty enough? Not capable enough?

Your worsened insecurities didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend, which was exactly why she dragged you out to a cafe that late autumn day to offer you her so-called ‘foolproof’ plan that couldn’t go wrong.

So when winter rolled around and it was time to put up Christmas decorations around your house, maybe it was because of the indescribable Christmas magic in the air, or maybe it was because of the delightful festive cheer, you eventually decided to follow her advice and hung a mistletoe above the door. Now all there’s left was for you to greet him at the door, inconspicuously gaze at the mistletoe above you, say something along the lines of, “Wow, I wonder how that mistletoe got there!”, and then hope he’d get the hint and was ready for a cute Christmas kiss — If he did go along with the plan, that is.

Which explained why here you were right now leaning against a wall of your living room, shifting your weight from one foot to another repeatedly while biting your nails as you stare intensely at the clock, trying your best to soothe the nerves in your stomach. You had just invited him over for dinner like usual and was now waiting for his arrival anxiously like something big was about to happen although you knew very well that a kiss was hardly considered that big of a deal.

The loud chime of the doorbell that sounded moments later disrupted your train of thought, startling you a little. You hurriedly smoothed your attire and took a deep breath to calm yourself down before making your way to answer the door. You flung open the front door with a cheeky smile plastered on your face.

“Hey, ba....Corbyn?! What are you doing here?” Your voice raised a pitch in the end of your sentence from how shocked you were when you were greeted with the sight of Corbyn standing on your doorstep instead of your boyfriend whom you were expecting, your eyes widening in disbelief so much that you swore they almost popped out of your sockets.

“Just here to pass your present before I return to my hometown tomorrow for Christmas,” he answered, passing you the rectangular shaped present that was beautifully wrapped with vibrant Christmas-themed wrapping paper. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve thanked him profusely and proceed with guessing excitedly about what he might’ve gotten you (because he is an amazing gift-giver) but this time was different. You had a mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above your head and your friend was not supposed to be here now. Out of all the times he could’ve passed you your present, he had chosen today to do it. Great.

“But isn’t that Jonah’s car?” You asked, pointing at the black Audi that was parked in your driveway, completely ignoring the present that was now in your hand.

Please don’t see the mistletoe. Please don’t see the mistletoe....

“Not even a thank you?” Corbyn cocked a brow but sighed and gave you a reply to your question when he realised you were scowling at him. “Yeah, I caught a ride with him since we’re heading to the same place and he wants me to wash his car afterwards. This dumbass is too lazy to do anything by himself,” he explained and rolled his eyes.

“He’s in the car now talking on the phone with our manager, so yeah,” he added, still not noticing the mistletoe, even when he looked up a little and scratched the back of his head. Luck was definitely on your side today.

“And I bet you have tons to pack for your trip tomorrow, don’t you? So you better hurry home and get ready,” this was the best excuse you had to get him to leave before things got awkward.

“Hello? It’s me you’re talking about,” Corbyn ruffled your hair with his hand. “My stuff is all packed and ready a week ago.”

“But I guess I should get going anyway,” he said, clapping his hands. Jonah can be seen walking towards you both. “The last thing I want is to third wheel your date so see ya’ soon,” he bid his goodbye and you felt a weight lifted from your chest when he still paid no attention to the stupid plant.

But someone else sure did. You watched as a smirk grew on Jonah’s face when his gaze lifted higher to see the mistletoe above you. He was about to walk away when Jonah stopped him by putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Hey, Corbyn, don’t you think it’s extremely rude to leave a girl standing under a mistletoe without a kiss?” His simple question had you internally cursing him with a long string of profanities as embarrassment flooded your veins instantly, heat spreading from the tips of your ears to all over your face.

“Oh,” He dragged out the one syllable word when he finally took notice of the mistletoe as realization hit him. “No wonder you were acting all weird just now! Because you wanted a kiss from me but you didn’t have the guts to say it, huh?”

“No, I absolutely don’t want anything from you!” You waved your hands frantically in front of you in denial.

“Including your present? So give it back to me,” Corbyn instructed, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, in which you responded with another deep scowl.

“No, the present is mine now so you can’t take it back!” You practically screamed at him as you tightened your hands around the said object protectively. You friendly banter went on for a while more, with Corbyn teasing you and you shooting your crafty retorts back at him.

Jonah watched the exchange between you and his best friend silently with an amused smile and couldn’t help but burst into laughter when Corbyn suddenly said “you’re so annoying! It makes me want to kiss you to shut you up” in the midst of your playful bickering, making your cheeks redden even more and from the way you open and close your mouth without any words coming out of it, it was evident that you were at a loss of words too.

“Then kiss her, bro,” Jonah urged him with a nudge of his shoulder. “But not on the lips. Those are mine,” he said in a serious tone, the former cheekiness all gone. It was merely a simple sentence but little did he know butterflies erupted in your stomach just from hearing it.

“As much as I’d not want to kiss you, this is tradition and we can’t break it,” with a hopeless sigh, Corbyn scrunched up his nose in disgust but proceeded to lean in and give you a brief kiss on your cheek before pulling away almost immediately. “There, that’s settled. Hang your mistletoe elsewhere next time. The last thing I want is to fucking kiss my best friend again,” he left with a wave of his hand at you and Jonah.

“I guess it’s just the two of us now,” Jonah stated the obvious as his car pulled out of the driveway a moment later by Corbyn.

“Shut up and get lost, I don’t wanna talk to you,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking away from him, still mad that he made your friend kiss you. It was nothing more than a kiss on the cheek but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t awkward.

“But why are you still standing here then? Right under the mistletoe,” he moved closer and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, kicking the door shut behind him. You were engulfed in his uplifting and clean scent of autumn that you loved so dearly, considering that autumn is your utmost favourite season of all. “Wonder how did that get here. I don’t remember seeing the mistletoe the last time I visited.”

“Fuck you, Jonah.”

“Here? Against the wall? Damn, darling, you sure are one kinky girl,” he joked, earning a playful smack from you.

“Stop,” you whined and buried your face in his chest to hide your blushing face that was already as red as a tomato or even redder at this point. He chuckled, his hand moving to cradle your face and pushed it backwards gently before tilting it upwards.

“Sometimes I forget how delicate and innocent you actually are,” he breathed and you could feel heart doing jumping jacks when your gaze met with his intense one. Your mind went totally haywire when he started to lean in, your breaths mingling with each other’s. “And you have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this.”

When your lips connected at long last, the wonderful sensation was like nothing you had experienced before. The kiss was soft and moist and hot and breathy, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath, one sensation, one timeless and passionate moment. You yearned for more — you wanted so badly to feel so, so much more of him — so you didn’t hesitate to comply to his wish when he bit your lip lightly for permission for his tongue to slip into your mouth.

The heat rose in your cheeks as your tongues entwined, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined, more curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of you. Instinctively, you grabbed fistfuls of the soft material at the front of his coat to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He groaned when you bucked your hips against his as his grip on your waist tightened to prevent you from repeating the same action because his self-control was reaching its limit. One more time and he might not be able to restrain himself from pinning you against the wall and ripping off your clothes to devour you.

Plus, he knew that you weren’t ready for that either.

“That was amazing,” you said in awe when you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, breathless from the heated kiss-turned-makeout session with your boyfriend. “If I can get kissed like that everytime I stand under a mistletoe, I think I might go against Corbyn’s advice and hang more of those around my house.”

“You don’t need a stupid mistletoe to kiss me, idiot. You can do it whenever you like,” he replied, his thumb caressing your cheek gently, as if you were his most prized possession that he was more than reluctant to let go of (which you were).

“But why haven’t you done that before?” You asked, staring quizzically into his hazel eyes that were the softest brown infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside.

“I wanted your first kiss to be special,” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “There’re a lot of things that I want to do with you and do to you that I haven’t done yet, love, so you gotta be patient,” he promised and took your hands in his, squeezing them once.

“But what if I want you to show me what you want to do to me now?” You wanted to take the question back right after you said it out loud. His lips curled into a smirk which made you even more embarrassed than you already were, not saying a word. “No, I mean what am I even talking about...” you trailed off, pulling your lower lip between your teeth tentatively, not on purpose but because that was what you did everytime you were nervous, only to find his jaw slightly clenched as you did so before using his thumb to softly pull your lip back out.

“Desperate now, are we?” He teased, holding your hand as he led you towards the dining room where the various dishes you had prepared for dinner sat on the table. “Maybe I would, but let’s have dinner first, okay? Dessert will come later.”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant and when you finally did, your face turned red all over again.

#corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #wdw #why dont we #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines

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tundrainafrica · 4 years

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (9/?)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The oval stretched out in front of him, much wider than his range of vision but Levi felt no need to look around him and take in the whole view. It was the largest oval in his city and having been one of the more active high jumpers the past five years, he had been there enough to memorize it inside and out.

That particular day, instead of being out there in the field doing warm up jumps like he had been for the past decade of his life, he was on the bleachers, a few seats away from the front. He was merely a part of the audience, an oddly surreal experience. For years, Levi had never given the audience a passing thought after all. His world during those few hours on the track had consisted of the bar he had to jump over, the jumper before him, his coach and teammates on the bench and maybe some the interviewers who would flock to him after the medal ceremony.

Although he had gone to that track so many times before, somehow it felt like he was experiencing it for the first time.

He was unprepared as well. Levi found himself pushing his hands farther into his hoodie huddling for whatever warmth it could afford him. Possibly it was the long days he had spent indoors that had made him unready for how cold mid autumn could actually be.

The past two weeks leading up to that particular night, Levi had not left the comforts of Hange's apartment much aside from for the occasional check up or regular therapy session. When he wasn't writing or making sense of new dreams, he spent most of his days catching up with schoolwork or trying to help around her apartment even with his injury.

With the long hours he had spent indoors, he was almost sedentary in comparison to the twice a day training and it was a drastic change. As he watched the other athletes warm up on the track, he was unable to fathom how he had survived long ago in light athletic wear. He started to wonder how much he had changed. If his knee wasn’t casted or buckling at the slightest weight, if he had a perfectly good knee just like a few weeks ago, would he have still been able to jump.

Was that sudden sensitivity to the cold he was feeling a product of his psyche or did his body just suddenly get weaker due to his long stint indoors?

To think I used to actually win these events. With the disbelief that came with that passing thought, Levi suddenly remembered why he had hesitated to join them in the first place. Everything from the atmosphere, to the warm up jumps found a way to hurt him. The few whispers he could hear from his place on the bleachers about the Ackerman kid, who had achieved a college record less than a year ago suddenly sidelined for life, were reminding him why exactly he had cooped himself up in the first place.

At first, he had attributed a huge chunk of that to the healing process, the writing process and the general lack of necessity to go out. At that moment, he was watching athletes do the jumps he knew how to perfectly execute yet was sure he would never be capable of doing again. At the same time, he was listening to whispers that could have been very much about him with the smatters of conversations on knee injuries and wasted talent.

He had looked towards Hange for comfort, an almost instinctive movement. Ironically, that movement had him rubbing more salt on his already reopened wounds. He had ended up watching Hange fall so easily to a state of a daydream and Levi did not need to look back at the oval to know why. She was watching the athletes go through the motions of the jumps.

He recognized that same look to be the one she had given Elijah and those athletes on her instagram feed. He would have given a lot to be able to go back to the Levi of a few weeks ago, the Levi who had been the subject of her hyper fixations. The inevitability of time had him hating himself a little more.

Levi cleared his throat in an attempt to swallow the lump that had settled there and willed himself to look back at the field. The temptation to space out was strong.

He had decided on watching the high jump event for a reason though and he was determined to make it worth it.

A Tale of Two Slaves

"Mike and Nanaba?” Levi repeated. The names flowed out of his mouth so smoothly so easily as if he had said those names many times before. Of course, he knew them. They were the subject of Hange’s case study years ago, the one he had read in preparation for meeting Hange.

“Mike Zacharius and Nanaba Briete,” Hange repeated. “Two friends from high school. They’re both participating in the high jump event so I thought of watching."

Mike and Nanaba. As Levi soon found out though the names weren’t cold to his tongue. They didn’t feel as stiff or professional despite their clear origins from an academic paper. It was almost second nature for Levi to attach faces to both of their names.

And that had been a breakthrough at that moment. For the past few days, he had been struggling to dream something different. Ever since Hange had given him a dream catcher, the dreams with Erwin and Hange had surprisingly been clearer and those scenes he had pictured had so easily flown from mind to paper, particularly his dreams to see the outside wall, his drive for atonement, his heroic sacrifice. It had also made him familiar with more subtle things like the long hours he had spent in the office, the amount of time he had spent joined to Erwin’s hip as his right hand man, and the trust he had put on him all the way until the end of his life.

He had squeezed what he had taken out of every memory and every dream and suddenly one day, he woke up to find himself completely intimate with that dream Erwin. Yet the story wasn’t complete, he just had to find inspiration elsewhere.

In an attempt to support him, Hange had been doing her part too to invite him out when she could.

She had suggested movies, shopping or dinner out. Levi could see behind it though and knew Hange would have preferred hiking, park hopping or working out. Not wanting to settle for bland ideas, they probably would have both slogged through, Levi declined all of them despite Hange’s insistence.

Ironically, her mention of plans to watch his college track and field event of all things had been an exception. "I'll come with you," Levi said without thinking.

Hange frowned in concern. “You sure?”

“Why? You don’t want me to come?”

Hange shook her head. “It’s not that…. I’m just surprised that you seemed a little too eager. I talk watching something like that might be torture for you.”

“I haven’t gone out in so long. I’m fine with anything at this rate.”

“We could start with a trip to the mall? Or we could go out for dinner?” Hange lightly suggested.

“I wanna get to know your friends too,” Levi said.

Hange raised one eyebrow at him as she eyed him a little too suspiciously. “You never seemed like the type to actually enjoy meeting new people.”

Levi avoided her gaze. If it were any other friends, he probably wouldn’t have cared enough to leave the comforts of Hange’s apartment. In fact, meeting his classmates and having face-to-face classes were a burden he was happy to avoid. Those names which Hange had mentioned, the faces that suddenly clicked in his brain, which were further confirmed by a quick google search had him all the more invested. “Nanaba and Mike seem like interesting people,” Levi finally admitted.

Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. Levi found himself practically jumping out of his seat in shock at the explosion of laughter that came out of your mouth. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

Eventually, her laughter did die down but Levi wasn’t counting the seconds until it did. He had been too busy enjoying the way her eyes crinkled and her nose wrinkled as she smiled. “Wait ‘til Nanaba and Mike hear this. The quiet antisocial guy who beat them out of first place every single fucking time is actually interested in getting to know them

“Wait. I went against them?”

“Aaaaand you don’t even remember.” Hange flailed her hands up exaggeratedly. “I should have known.” She shook her head. Her voice still had the remnants of the loud laughter of a while ago and she didn’t look like she would be getting rid of that playful demeanor anytime soon.

“And now you’re just making fun of me.

Hange wiped a tear from the side of her eye. “I’m sorry. I probably look so weird right now. I know I shouldn’t be acting like this.” As she put her hand down, she looked back up at him, her smile visibly wider than it was a second ago. “It just never dawned on me till now how weird it just feels. If I told my past self I’d be sharing an apartment with jumper extraordinaire Levi Ackerman, past Hange would have tried to slap some sense into me.”

Jumper extraordinaire Levi Ackerman. Somehow, Levi was recalling the way she had held his hands and stared at him, the first time he had laid eyes on her. I heard you’re the best one in the team… I’d love to see you in action. The glimmer in eyes and the excited tone in her voice that fluctuated between highs and lows with every syllable, it was the same as it had been then when she first called out to him.

Hange took a deep breath. “The tournaments were the only times Nanabe and Mike would visit this part of town so they’d invite me to watch every year…”

“And you watched it every year…” Levi didn’t need to confirm anything. It was all in her eyes.

As if she knew she had given it all away through her eyes, Hange quickly looked away. She had done nothing though to hide the pink in her cheeks. She probably couldn’t have done anything to hide it anyway. “When the super rookie Levi Ackerman scored an almost record breaking upset win…” Hange recounted so mechanically as if she were reading a headline. “I was in the crowd. And I never stopped following him since.”

And I never stopped following him since. The moment Hange said it, she dropped her shoulders to the side, so quickly and so eagerly, Levi wondered what kind of baggage she had been holding for her to look so free as she said those last words. His mind shifted elsewhere before he could ponder it any longer.

It was a long shot but Levi still found himself looking back, scrambling to recall his first every competition through lasting sensations from the cold breeze, the blinding lights and the cacophony of cheers mixed with announcers’ commentaries.

As if by some miracle, he remembered it. He remembered it as he mentally prepared for the most crucial jump. The bar was a good two meters up in the air. His legs were aching, his heartbeat was getting wilder. Before he jumped, he had glanced at the bleachers as the murmurs and cheers got stronger and consequently more difficult to ignore. On the bleachers, more specifically on the fifth row from the front, sat Hange. Her hair still as brown and untamed as always, her eyes held the same wonder it always had. And maybe a little surprise? That had been his first tournament after all.

He had only given her a passing glance then. Within a split second, she had blended with the scenery as he ran towards the bar. The jump that came quickly after was strong and exhilarating.

And as Levi landed on the cushion on the other side of the bar, welcoming explosions of gasps and wild cheers as he did, he couldn’t help but reflect on it.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup with record breaking height.

That first tournament jump had been life changing, inspiring. Possibly it was the jump that had paved the way to the years of victory that followed.

No sane athlete would have memorized the faces in the crowd. For him though, it felt criminal that he had only noticed it then as she admitted it to him herself.

She had been a part of that experience too.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Eventually, Levi did get tired of torturing himself. He knew the way to the barely used locker rooms in the building next to the oval and he seeked solace there. Somehow, he found it worth it to make a slight scene as he struggled to keep his balance and he maneuvered his crutches down the bleachers.

When he got to the empty locker room, with only the dark ceiling above him and silence, that made even the dripping of water deafening, he was able to forget the embarrassing and frustrating journey there. And within a few more minutes, he did forget the onslaught of emotion that had culminated into a wave of incomprehensible emotions, manifesting as demons in his head.

With a lack of stimuli to remind him of his reality, he was once again numb. And numbness tended to lead to dreaming. The old locker room was no place to fall asleep though and Levi found himself trying to focus on whatever faint stimuli could reach him as to stay rooted in his reality.

Faint cheers made their way into the dark room. Levi had watched more than enough jumps to know the cheers flowed with the movements, always at their loudest when the athlete is at their highest. Oddly enough, he had managed to drown out the cheers more easily when he was in the middle of them.

Although they were faint, they were still much louder and more rattling than Levi had ever experienced them to be. And the cheers did rattle him to the bone. His body shook every time the cheers reached their crescendo and he wondered if Hange was watching too. Was she screaming? He could imagine her cheers so easily and he found himself trying to pick it out among what could have been hundreds of other voices.

Her voice was unique, nostalgic, memorable. It should have been easy. But the cheers were too faint. Even in the silence, he found it difficult to split them into individual voices, let alone isolate one out of hundreds. He leaned back on the cold wall, slipped onto the floor and closed his eyes.

“Levi?”

Levi had assumed it to have been a dream at first. The voice he had been raring to pick out among the crowd was right next to him. He willed himself not to open his eyes for fear that the voice might just disappear.

That small voice had opened up to sounds of steps then the brush of cloth on tiles. He felt a warm hand behind him, pulling him gently away from the wall and the warmth of something around him. Levi let out a cough, only then, when the cold was replace by warmth, did he realize how chilly the room actually was.

“You can really sleep anywhere huh?" Her voice had been too near, right next to his ear. Her breath tickled his ear and brushed past his neck. Even before he realized it, he had opened his eyes, Levi was already returning the subtle smile Hange had given him.

“What were you dreaming about?” It had become routine for Hange to ask that question. Levi couldn’t blame her. When he was at his worst, sometimes that was the only thing he was willing to talk about.

“Nothing. I wasn’t sleeping. I was just thinking,” Levi answered. “How are the results?”

Hange shrugged. “You saw it yourself. Elijah grabbed gold in the vertical jump. Mike silver…” She paused for a second.

“So none of the other jumpers after them got higher scores?”

“They still didn’t beat your record from last season.”

“I don’t need that reassurance,” Levi said. “This would have been my last season anyway. I’m gonna graduate, find a job, forget this sport then find out some other kid beat my record in a few years.”

“Why did you leave after Elijah cleared the 2.3 meter bar then?” Hange didn’t at all sound like she had wanted to provoke him. Levi was certain all she had wanted were answers.

“Why were you staring at Elijah like that when he jumped?” As he thought back to the final straw that had made him stand up and brave the stairs and the whispers from the crowd just so he could leave the field mid tournament, he realized exactly why. Hange hadn’t even noticed the way her eyes lit up at him. Somehow, that was enough to have Levi shaking as he saw the confusion in her eyes.

“Staring like what?”

“Your mouth was wide open and your eyes were stuck on him.”

“I just got a little excited I guess. When I see jumps that high, sometimes I feel like I’m flying myself,” Hange said. “Or I dunno, I’ve never flown before but it’s just so easy to get lost in it sometimes.”

“Did you feel that same way? When I jumped?” Used to jump. Regret weighed on him. As the seconds ticked as he waited for her answer, that regret gradually took over and pushed at his chest, making it more difficult to breath. It had been that one movement after all, that impulsive and reckless decision that had him there in that dark unused locker room instead of outside in the tournament.

It was his last season anyway. He had consoled himself so many times before. But it wasn’t the season and the career-ending injury that had him heavy hearted at that moment. Impending retirement in sports loomed for most college athletes, especially in their senior year. Levi had prepared himself for it already.

At first, it had been the loss of that one unique sensation, the blue sky above him, and the his body detached from the earth for that split second, the loss of that memorable and unique experience of having both air and gravity as his enemy as he flew through the air with the wind blowing through his face as if executing their own plans to stop him. When the dreams returned and when he had started to write them out, eventually the weight in his chest lightened, replaced by another one.

As he spent more time observing Hange and talking to her in between her thesis writing and his own writing, he noticed it fester slowly. Only when his chest lightened, set free from that other weight, did it start to make itself known.

Hange never stopped watching jumps, turns, tumbles, runs and spins. Sometimes, she would turn on the tv in the living room to some athletic meet. Sometimes, she’d just be scrolling through her timeline, liking whatever inhumane stunts an athlete was showing her at that moment. She had those same raised eyebrows, that same gaping mouth, those same dilated pupils and that same glimmer in the eyes that he wished was just the glare of the screen.

And I never stopped following him since. Had she looked at him with that same expression? That same exact expression she had given Elijah? Would there ever be away to look back at those moments, zoom into her and look for everything from the raised eyebrows, gaping mouth, dilated pupils and that glimmer in her eyes?

Did you look at me that same way? That was all he had wanted to ask. Hange wouldn’t have known though.

“Of course I did.” Hange answered. Levi could only wish it were true. Without seeing that same expression, he would never know.

“But I’ll never jump like that again. So I don’t think you’ll get that from me anymore.”

I can get it elsewhere. Levi had prepared his heart for that reply. He was at least ready enough not to lash out.

“Because you offer other things,” Hange said. “These stories about Captain Levi and Hange Zoe… Commander Erwin Smith? When we’re up late at night and you start talking about those contraptions that get us flying through the air like birds? I don’t know if it’s the way you describe it or if it’s the passion in your eyes but… it’s like I could have been flying too.”

“You were flying.” And Levi held on to the image so tightly, that the words flowed too naturally out of his mouth. If he hadn’t been staring at the blank ceiling above him, recalling easily how she had tumbled and turned so freely in the air, he probably would have been conscious about how much of a madman he had sounded like.

Hange didn’t seem to mind though. “Even if just in my own dreams, it would be nice.”

The dim room only made the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness a little easier. The coat over his shoulders and the warmth that it kept close to him didn’t help keep him awake either. His dim surroundings blurred into nothingness, the last two sensations he made out was the arm around his shoulder and the faint discomfort as he dropped his head onto what could have been a bony shoulder.

You were flying.

It was as if his dreams had heard the conversation of a while ago. Squad Leader Zoe, Commander Hange Zoe. Dreams of her came in snapshots, in crumbs that indulged all his five senses. The whizzing of cables, the explosion of gas, familiar yet distant screams of excitement, week old sweat.

Her greasy hair on his hands. Then Levi found himself on horseback, his and Hange’s faces were a little too close for comfort. It didn’t take much to remember why though.

She had said something about wanting to meet an abnormal titan and he was in the mood for jokes.

A Tale of Two Slaves

“Of all the years and tournaments you could have ditched, it had to be the tournament with my first ever golden medal performance.”

“Nanaba, I’ll make it up to you promise…”

“To think you’re the one who roped me into this sport in the first place…”

They had the whole taxi ride to start an argument. Levi was grateful at least the conversation only reached that topic when they were already in the elevator on the way to Hange’s apartment. Hange had prepared some hard drinks, some soft drinks, some chasers and a lot of water. He was sure that the argument with devolve into something a little less coherent and might actually fizzle out within an hour or so with the right cocktail mix.

He had gone through that same bout of adventure with his own teammates after all. Nanaba continued to talk her ear off while Mike and Hange cleared out the dining table. Levi sat on one of the chairs, making himself useful by opening up the bottles handed to him by Moblit.

“I’m gonna need something hard first. Imagining being awarded that gold medal then looking in the crowd for the person who inspired me to try high jumping in the first place.” Nanaba sat to Levi’s left pouring what could be a nauseating amount of gin into the cup and emptied it within seconds. “And lo and behold, it looks like you were hiding out with wonderboy here in one of the old locker rooms.” She turned to Levi. “So… What were you guys doing there?”

Oddly enough, Levi didn’t understand the question at first glance. It could have been interpreted as an innocent question. When he wasn’t taking into account the cat-like grin, the raised eyebrows and the wide-eyed gaze.

It was Moblit who confirmed her intention. He turned to Hange. “There isn’t anything between you and Levi though right?”

“No one needs to be in a relationship to do anything.” Mike added, begrudgingly wise words from the most quiet one in the room.

“Nothing really…” Hange sat next to Nanaba and poured her own glass of gin, mixing it with some soft drinks. “I just kept him company. And he fell asleep next to me.”

Nanaba turned to Levi, her cheeks much redder than they were a second ago. “You sure?” She cupped her hands over her mouth and whispered in a still very audible volume. “Blink twice if you need help.”

“I don’t remember much, I fell asleep.”

Everyone in the room jumped as Nanaba abruptly slammed her hand on the table. “And you just let your biggest fangirl get away with doing whatever she wanted with you huh?”

“Biggest… fangirl?” Levi asked.

Nanaba turned to Hange. “Don’t you have a folder of pictures of him on your phone?” She dove under the table. From where Levi sat he could only hear the frazzled protests of Hange.

“The pictures aren’t on my phone anymore!” Hange screamed.

“What pictures?” Levi asked, trying his best to ignore the slams and the sounds of struggle from below.

“We did go to all of your competitions.” Mike admitted. “They went for personal reasons… I went for my own research.”

Levi noted that Mike and Elijah tended to alternate second and third place between the both of them. According to Hange that is. He never looked beyond his own experiences and his own injury had made him all the more hesitant to research high jumping stats.

“That sounds reasonable.” Levi managed to say. Small talk had never been his forte. Especially when his conversation partner wasn’t leaving much opening to continue.

For a while they were both silent. “It’s a shame. You made the competition interesting. If this didn’t happen, you could have pushed the sport to new levels.”

“Accidents happen. Someone else will show up and do it,” Levi kept his voice toneless as if he were just rattling off a list of inevitable events. That probably was going to happen anyway. His current inebriated state just convinced him that it wasn’t worth pondering at that moment.

“Moblit! Keep my phone and Nanaba, just go the fuck to sleep already.” Hange’s tone and her face then that managed to be both cold and furious at the same time was terrifying. Maybe, because it was the first time he had ever seen her so angry.

“You’re one of my closest friends Hange…. Be happy…” Nanaba slurred.

Happy. Hange always seemed happy, barring that one sleepless night he did see her cry. At that moment though, Levi instinctively looked towards her, his brain somehow expecting to see a smile on her face.

Of course, with what happened just a while ago she wasn’t smiling. She pressed her phone onto Moblit’s hand and whispered something to him. She returned back and sat next to Levi, taking Nanaba’s seat of a while ago. “Well, I had pictures to be honest but just for a few months I guess? I mean I really liked your jumps and I wanted to keep them...”

“No. It’s nice to know I had a secret admirer.” No actually, Levi probably would have found it odd if it were anyone else. He was doing the equivalent of writing fanfiction about her and somehow, keeping a secret folder of photos of him seemed mild. Although she had mentioned deleting it, Levi found himself clinging to the hope that she might still have kept a few.

“Hange, Let me make it up to you,” A voice and a pair of arms came up from behind Hange and wrapped around both of their shoulders. Levi could smell the strong alcohol in them.

“Nanaba, I think you should go to sleep now…” Moblit said. He stood up and started to prepare one of the mattresses Hange had laid out on the side of the room.

“Make it up to me by going to sleep…” Hange mumbled visibly uncomfortable.

Nanaba ignored her. “Levi, could I ask you one favor?”

“What is it?” Levi asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the still half fall glass of tequila in front of him. He had only been taking only small and cautious sips after all.

“Could you kiss Hange?” Nanaba asked “At least, just a peck on the cheek?”

“Kiss?”

“Nanaba! Go. to sleep.”

Levi could hear the rattle of her chair and from his peripherals he could see Hange moving to stand up but before he could have even processed anything else, he felt a hand on his head, a slight push.

And within a split second, he felt wet lips, he tasted alcohol, he saw scenes and he heard voices.

Within another split second they were all gone.

Hange had gone red, he could see it in her cheekbones. She had her hand cupped to her mouth, her eyes wide with what could have been shock or embarrassment. As Levi felt the blood run through his cheeks and his incapacity to do anything but stare, he started to wonder what he had looked like.

“Weren’t you wondering how his lips tasted? During that one tournament?”

“That was a joke…” Hange said. She swallowed a lump on her throat and as she narrowed her eyes, Levi could see the beginnings of what could have been tears. Was it really a joke?

“Nanaba. Let’s get you to bed.” Mike appeared from behind Nanaba and guided her back to the mattress Moblit had prepared. He started whispering to Nanaba so slowly and gently, Levi almost admired him for his patience.

That exchange between Nanaba and Mike had only lasted a second. By the time Levi did look beside him, Hange was already gone and he could hear the door slam behind him.

Levi took a quick glance at both Moblit and Mike who were still trying to subdue an overly excited Nanaba before he stood up. Not bothering to even grab his crutches from the other side of the wall, he hobbled the few meter distance toward the door of her room.

“Hange?” Levi opened the door just wide enough to see it. She hadn’t locked the door at least.

“I still have the pictures on my phone.” She sounded apologetic. She sat at the foot of her bed, her face towards the ground. Levi could tell by the crack on her voice that she was in no mood to look up.

“The pictures of me?”

“I can delete them if you want. I know it’s creepy. I shouldn’t have taken so many during tournaments.”

“And you wanted to kiss me?”

Hange fell limply on the bed and looked up at the blank ceiling. She had looked like she was avoiding his gaze. “It was a weird passing thought. I mean, I know a lot of girls have those types of things but I guess it really is creepy when the person isn’t as big of a celebrity as boy groups or actors. But I’ve wanted to be an athlete since before I could remember. I wanted to jump, to see how it feels like flying through the air. And when I saw you jump, I swear you could have had wings on your back with how well you were able to control yourself up there. You made me feel like I could fly too and I guess I got a little obsessed and ended up thinking a lot of creepy shit. I know it’s weird and I sound like a stalker…”

“No it’s not. I still have the stories about you. I’m just as weird,” Levi looked towards the wall, a gesture of respect for Hange who looked like she was in no mood to look at him.

“But, you only started writing them after we met.”

“But the stories are so detailed, it’s embarrassing,” Levi said. “if I made you feel so strongly about this, you felt obsessed enough to sneak pictures. Just remember, you made me feel things too. And these things I felt, ended up making me write. And I’ve never written in my life.”

“How did I make you feel?”

“Like I could fly too.” His dreams could attest to the fact that he wasn’t lying. Levi chose that moment to look at her and their eyes locked even before he consciously tried to follow her gaze. She had lain on the bed, looking more relaxed than a second ago.

Hange scooched over. Levi noticed then with the slight movement that his right knee was starting to ache, having taken the load of all his body weight as he hobbled.

Her scooching over could have been a subtle movement more than anything but with his aching legs, Levi decided the risk was probably worth it. He approached the bed on the side Hange had opened up. “I thought of stuff I wanted to write... Nanaba and Mike were in those dreams too. For a time we would go out for drinks after a long day of training. Meat was hard to come by but sometimes, we would have the budget to blow on a plate of meat and we’d share it. Erwin would be there too. And sometimes, they would joke that we bickered like a married couple.”

“You really built your whole world huh? What inspired you to think that up this time? The alcohol? Meeting Mike and Nanaba? Having our heads bashed together?

The kiss? The visions of the split second chose to remind Levi of their existence at that particular moment. “The kiss?” The words rolled off his tongue so easily and so fluidly.

“You don’t have to call it a kiss if you don’t want to.” We didn’t decide to do it. So technically it isn’t right?”

Levi had wanted to argue. Hange’s denial of that kiss only made his memories clearer and the emotions tied to them much stronger.

That peck had been satisfying, euphoric. It was a cathartic release of pent up emotions. Yet at the same time it had only lasted a split second. In that silent room, on the bed next to Hange, he had enough of a breather to reflect and maybe articulate that particular gesture. His feelings were strong enough to at least convince him to keep it as is. “It’s a kiss,” he said.

The silence stretched for what could have been eternity. “It’s a kiss then,” Hange said. “Did it make you feel anything?”

“I liked it.” Levi kept it to those three words. If he gave his mouth and his emotions free reign, he might just say something he would regret.

“Did you see anything? Did it inspire you to write something else about Captain Levi and Commander Zoe?” It was just like Hange to pull those words out of his mouth anyway.

“If they weren’t constantly fighting for their lives, they might have ended up kissing.”

“And you’re not going to write a kissing scene?”

“They didn’t kiss.” Of course, they wouldn’t kiss during the war. They were fellow soldiers, subordinate and superior, it wouldn’t have been professional in the battlefield.

“Maybe after their relationship develops then.”

“It won’t develop.” The words came out automatically.

“Why not? What about after the war?” Hange suggested. Words like why always bring up more questions than answers and Levi found himself racking his brain for it.

The dreams and the memories or as Hange liked to call it, bouts of inspiration, came in images and scenes and sometimes pieces of information. From what he could tell, Hange and Levi had a strong bond and it would have only been natural that they had stayed close long after the war ended.

And a kiss probably wouldn’t have been too far off. But why didn’t they kiss? Why didn’t their relationship develop? Levi asked himself, as his mind caught up to the words he said.

Maybe because the war hadn't ended yet. But after that there should be potential to develop.

With time, Levi had started to realize a pattern to the dreams though. The answers to the questions came gradually. They came in meetings, conversations and dreams. If he waited patiently, if he just opened up, those questions would be answered right?

Before Levi even noticed it, he had settled on the bed next to her and had fallen asleep to those questions. His brain chose those moments in between the sleeping and waking world to go through the voices and visions that went through him in that split second kiss.

One day in the barracks, he had overheard three of his squad members talking.

“You know I’ve been working with the commander closely right?”

“Yeah?”

“After the meetings, Levi always stays in the room with her and every time I see them together. I can’t help but think, there might be something between them.”

“Maybe you’re just overanalyzing it. You do analyze a lot

“Hey, he was right about the titan shifters and their locations back in Shiganshina."

“We’re talking about romance here, not military intelligence. Besides, can you even imagine the captain and commander kissing?”

“Just because you can’t get a girl with your horse face.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi x hanji

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musecharm-writes · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Cat Burglar (Tony Stark X Reader)

ANONYMOUS: You write for marvel? Awesome! Ive always wondered ehat would happen if someone tried to reverse engineer one of Tony's suits just for curiosity instead of evil or money... could you write something where Tony finds reader doing something like that? Thanks!!

Summary: You’ve been training yourself for months for this mission (not even counting the time you’d spent learning all the skills you would need in order to even make it a possibility), and now you’re finally here, so close to what you’ve been waiting for for so long…it almost feels too easy.

You’ve been training yourself for months for this mission (not even counting the time you’d spent learning all the skills you would need in order to even make it a possibility), and now you’re finally here, so close to what you’ve been waiting for for so long… it almost feels too easy.

You’d spent weeks perfecting the software that let you into the Stark Industries mainframe so you could access the blueprints of the ventilation system. You’d taken great lengths to memorise the layout; you could recreate the map flawlessly if called upon to do so. You’d made a backup plan for absolutely anything and everything that could possibly go wrong.

And now that it’s working, it just doesn’t feel right.

As you slip into the elevator, pressing the button that will take you to the floor housing Stark’s workshop with a gloved hand, you have the distinct sensation of being watched. You send an uneasy glance around the elevator and are unable to detect any cameras, but you’re well aware that means nothing; there could be thermal scanners, pressure pads, or even something as simple as hidden cameras in the walls or ceiling. Stark is as sneaky as he is clever, and you’re the last one to underestimate him.

He is your hero, after all.

The elevator doesn’t make a sound as it reaches the workshop floor, nor as the doors open with a smooth glide, and it’s equal parts unnerving and impressive. You don’t waste time studying the elevator, though; you leave the elevator car, creeping down the hall until you come to a wall of glass.

All that’s between you and your goal now are a keypad and a shatterproof glass door.

You pull the hacking device you custom built and programmed from your belt and attach it to the keypad. Numbers scroll across the screen until, finally, the security code is displayed in blinking green.

You grin in satisfaction and press the appropriate numbers. The door opens.

You’re in.

You stalk into the darkened shop, padding across the floor without making a sound. You reach up and pull down a pair of homebrew infrared goggles.

Let’s see. If I was a super-genius, where would I keep a high-tech, flying suit of armour?

You see some display cases on the other end of the room -- you’re unsurprised to see that Stark preserves his old suits, considering how attached he seems to be to them -- and are preparing to search for the mechanism that will open the cases, but it’s not necessary; there’s a half-assembled suit laid out on one of the work benches, as though its owner left in the middle of performing repairs on it.

Jackpot! You hadn’t dared hope you would get this lucky; the newest model of the Iron Man suit, just laying there in the open, completely unguarded? This is better than anything you could’ve dreamed of!

You approach the workbench, stepping over and around other half-complete projects that Stark has left scattered around. There are what you assume to be deactivated automated assistants, too, arm-like structures with claw shaped grasping appendages on the ends.

Under different circumstances, you would love to stick around and see what this place looks like when it’s up and running at full capacity. You bet it’s amazing.

You shake those thoughts from your head. Focus on the task at hand, you remind yourself. Your window is incredibly small.

You carefully open the faceplate of the helmet and search for a data upload terminal. Once you’ve found it, you pull your scanner from your belt and attach it to the terminal, activating it. Your heart flutters giddily. You’re so close.

And then, a voice says, “Right, I think I’ve let this go a little too far. JARVIS, lights.”

The lights slowly start to come up. You hastily remove your goggles and turn to find none other than Tony Stark standing at the far end of the room.

He smiles and waves shortly. “Hi. I’d introduce myself, but,” he swirls his finger in a circle, “seeing as we’re here, I’m pretty sure it’s not necessary.”

You’re completely dumbfounded. You have no idea what to do, what to say -- how do you explain yourself?

You came up with a plan for every scenario, except for the one where you got caught.

“Uh,” you begin, “I… I don’t… I mean, I’m not-- It’s not--”

“You, on the other hand, have some serious explaining to do. You could start with who you are, for example, and why you’re in my house, and how in the hell you managed to build a bunch of shit that neutralised my security measures.” He points an accusatory finger at you. “You hacked me. Nobody does that, nobody has ever done that. How did you do that?”

You open and close your mouth, at a total loss for words. “W-Well, um, I… I just did?” It’s a terrible explanation and you know it. You kind of want to dissolve into the floor; this was not how this was supposed to go, not at all.

Stark looks incredulous. “You… just did. Huh. Okay. Well, I just thought I’d let you know I went along with this little charade because, if we’re being honest, I found the concept of someone smart enough to hack Stark Industries enticing. I figured I’d just wait and see where you were going with it. But, since you were just after the suit -- totally boring motivation, by the way, that’s been done like a thousand times by now, what is it, money or power? -- I’m gonna have to see you out now.” He pulls out a wafer-thin, see through card and taps on it. “Jay, let Happy know we have an interloper on sublevel--”

“Wait!” You cry out. “Wait, please don’t kick me out!”

He looks at you, quirking a brow. “And why should I not?”

You fidget awkwardly, feeling a little stupid in your thief getup. “I… I didn’t want the suit to sell it, or weaponise it, or whatever. I just wanted to see if I could… If I could make one better,” you admit, your face reddening.

Stark is silent for a moment, which you aren’t sure is a good thing. Then, he says, “Huh. Okay,” and the way he says ‘okay’ turns it into a four-syllable word. “So, you broke into my house, disabled all my security, and entered my private workshop without permission… because you were curious?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” he says, with a hint of a smile. “Not so sure about the cat burglar.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you retort.

“And you’re feeling satisfied with yourself, are you?”

You shrug, starting to relax as you settle into the rhythm of the banter. “I could be. Depends whether or not you’re planning to call the cops on me.”

The hint of smile turns into an outright grin. “And ruin this thing we’ve got goin’ on? Now, why in the world would I do that?”

You laugh. “...Does this mean I get to look at the suit after all?”

Stark makes a show of considering your request. “We can work up to it,” he says. “After you show me what you’re really capable of.”

You spend what must be hours down in the workshop -- Tony Stark’s workshop! -- shyly explaining how your devices work, and then you move upstairs to the living room and spread out schematics across the table, trying valiantly not to explode on the spot when the guy you’ve had a crush on since you were, like, ten tells you your craftsmanship and code are just about as good as anything he’s ever seen, which is really saying something.

You’re so focused on trying to seem like you don’t care that much about his approval that when he says, “So, hey, how about next week, we meet up somewhere for a little intellectual conversation over coffee?” you nearly miss it. (‘Nearly’ being the operative word, of course.)

“I… What?”

“Unless you don’t like coffee. We could do lunch,” he continues, and somehow, he almost seems as nervous as you were just a moment ago.

The idea of Tony Stark being nervous to ask you for coffee or lunch -- you, of all people -- is laughable, so much so that it sends all your nerves running for the hills.

“Yeah,” you say. “No, I mean, coffee’s fine. I love coffee.”

He nods. “Good. Good, I’ll see you then. Hopefully this time you won’t break into my house beforehand.”

You fluster immediately at that, stammering, and he waves it off.

“Kidding,” he says. “I let you get in, remember? You’re fun, you’re a good,” he waves his hand as if trying to summon the words from nowhere. “Conversationalist. You grok me.”

You nod.

He slaps his knees and clears his throat. “Welp,” he says, standing up, “it’s been fun, but as everyone in my life loves to remind me, I have a company to run, so as much as I would love to spend the rest of the day talking about fun stuff, I sorta can’t. Walk you to the door?”

“Sure.”

He sees you out, reminding you not to forget about your “little rendezvous next week, I’ll pick you up and take you someplace swanky, my treat.”

You don’t feel nervous about it at all. You just met your idol, and all you had to do was break into his house and try to steal the plans for his top-secret superhero suit.

You can’t wait to find out what he wants to talk about next week.

#marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel #iron man x reader #iron man reader insert #iron man #tony stark x reader #tony stark #writing #writing blog #reader insert blog #x reader blog #breaking and entering #burglary #cat burglar #swearing

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yukheii · 5 years

Text

— i hope it rains (you’re the perfect lullaby) (w.yk)

+ pairing :: wong yukhei + oc:reader

+ genre and warnings :: established relationship au, college au? the setting isn’t super important but i envisioned it as a part of some kind of college setting, fluff, yukhei’s an idiot but wbk

+ notes :: this is the first nct drabble i’m posting!! i’m excited!! if you couldn’t tell xuxi is my babie so i’m v excited to write/post more for him and the other boys :’) feed back would be greatly appreciated!!! shoutout to sarah for listening to me scream about his big ears for months on end

+ more notes :: also! this was a request! i don’t know why i can never tag anyone in text posts but this was requested by kyungwhore!

“You’re such a cuddle slut,” you chuckle, the end of your sentence growing increasingly muffled as Yukhei makes it his mission to have your body as close to his as possible.

He pays your insult no mind; instead, focusing on shifting to the most comfortable position on the couch, though once he’s finished, you would hardly call the position ideal.

His legs are too long, so he has one foot on the far arm of the chair and the other elevated to an absurd angle to accommodate for your legs in between his own. There are far too many pillows on the couch—none of which he bought but he knew that Kun and Taeyong would get a little overzealous with the decorating when he first agreed to room with them—and they take up more space than he does. He took his fluffy blanket to his bed last night so he’s attempting to cover the both of you with the thin throw sheet Taeyong leaves there for decorative purposes; it’s not warm or insulating in the slightest, but it’s okay. It’s okay because you’re there.

“Hm,” he mumbles, tucking his cold hand under your shirt to steal your body warmth. The action makes you hiss and flick his arm; but he’s all tired smiles anyway, “I’m your cuddle slut.”

“Xuxi, why don’t we just nap on your bed?” you propose, feeling him stretch his previously bent knee. But he’s tired and stubborn, and simply cages you in more securely.

“First, to do that, we’d have to get up,” he drawls, voice deep but with a familiar whiny undertone, “Second, I’ll fall asleep first and you’ll ditch me and start doing homework or watching videos of the angry British chef man.”

“You think I can’t ditch you to watch Gordan Ramsay if we sleep on the couch?” you ask, a yawn escaping your mouth in the process.

“You can,” he hums after some time, tilting his head down to kiss the top of your head, “But you won’t.”

You grow quiet, too immersed in trying to absorb his body heat and unfreeze your toes to form a coherent rebuttal. It’s well over ten minutes later when Yukhei starts to smile again; the feeling of your even breath against his chest and your long exhales against his neck make his teeth shine through his lips.

“You always fall asleep first this way,” he chuckles, voice barely above a whisper.

He drops another kiss to the top of your head, and carefully repositions both of his hands to your lower back. He spends too long just looking at you sleep, perfectly aware of the dumb grin on his face, but he doesn’t care.

Sometimes, if he’s steady enough and calm enough, Yukhei swears he can hear your heartbeats align. He can feel it too—the way everything starts to even out between your two bodies. First your breath starts to rise and fall with his, then, slowly, the feeling of two off-beat thuds against his chest merge into one. A single heartbeat for two people.

Sometimes, he thinks you’re soulmates, but he doesn’t particularly like that explanation. You’re here not because you have to be, not because you’re destined to be—but because you two want to be.

It’s nice to think that you don’t think twice about doing anything because you know you’re meant for each other. But Yukehi thinks is much nicer knowing that you do things—to him, for him, with him—of your own volition. Because you want to love him. Because you do love and you want him to know it.

He thinks about it a lot, actually. You slip into his thoughts with his even realizing most of the time. And sometimes, he wants to tell you exactly what he’s thinking—tell you just how much you mean to him, but he can never find the words.

He hopes his actions speak for him. Yours certainly do.

It’s a shame, really. With all the languages, all the characters, all the words floating in his head, you’d think he’d able to spew out some concoction of words capable of expressing half of the emotions you make him feel.

“I love you.” It’s always been the only way of getting even a quarter of his point across.

It’s a whisper. The syllables spill out of his mouth in cantonese—a prayer that you won’t hear nor understand them in your dreams.

He always thinks about you in his mother tongue. He can’t explain it, like with much else when it comes to you. But he’s learning that maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

It’s a prayer on deaf ears, though. He counts six, seven, breaths before he feels the slight movement of your jaw against his chest.

“I’m not asleep yet, you know,” you start—and he’s back to hearing two heartbeats; his much more frantic than yours. “You’re the only one who falls asleep first in this relationship, dumbo.”

“Liar,” he scoffs, “You always fall asleep first when we nap on the couch.”

“Not always,” you muse, “I just pretend to, sometimes. I like hearing you babble. Gives me the slightest clue what goes on in that big head of yours.”

“You’re the one with the fivehead, not me.”

“That’s fine. I’ll take all the forehead since you have enough ears for us and a small army.”

“Shutup,” he chuckles, conscious of his ears growing red while he jostles you in his hold.

The shaking makes you smile, and you turn your head, chin resting against Yukhei’s sternum and gaze focused on his crinkling eyes. “I love you, too, you know,” you say lightly, a sedated smile settling onto your lips.

“Yeah,” he smiles too, tight lipped and dopey, “I know.”

+ bonus

“If you knew then why didn’t you just say it while I was, like, conscious.”

“But you were conscious! You said you weren’t even sleeping!”

“Yeah but you didn’t know that!”

“You don’t know that. Maybe this was my plan all along.”

“You’ve never once made a plan for anything in your entire life.”

“That’s not true. I had a plan to ask you out.”

“You didn’t even ask me out! We just started kissing and called it dating!”

Yukhei shrugs with a smile. “And maybe that was my plan all along. You’ll never know.”

“You’re a grade A idiot that’s what I know.”

“Okay, and which one of us is dating a grade A idiot?”

You pause to exhale, Yukhei relishing in the frustration on your face. “I would suggest you grab a life jacket, Wong.”

“Huh—for what?” he questions, eyebrows growing closer together with genuine confusion.

“Because I’m about to throw you into Han River and I heard that fools don’t float.”

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ct7567329 · 4 years

Text

King: Rex x Reader

Today was unlike any other day in Villeneuve, the capital city of your planet Dalmorth.

Though it was a fairly large planet with a population in the hundreds of millions and various biomes, involvement in the war between the Separatists and the Republic seemed almost inexistent. In the early days of the clone war, you chose to align Dalmorth with the Republic. They exchanged protection of your people when traveling between planets for a safe resting place when traveling to wild space, since Dalmorth laid in the middle of the outter rim. The only condition was that you wished for these terms to be private.

You stared out your palace window at the wave of droids slowly approaching. The last thing you wanted was the be the Queen of Dalmorth during Separatist invasion, but that's exactly where you found yourself.

Before you knew it, Republic forces were on their way to Dalmorth, upholding their promise to protect your people. You ran your hands though your hair and made your way to the throne room, taking a seat where you mother once sat. Dozens of royal guards protected the room both inside and out, but they were never trained to fight droids. One of your guards informed you of an incoming transmission from the Separatist leader. You nodded at him to accept it.

The hologram showed a tall menacing looking man with a well trimmed beard and a lightsaber on his waist. He introduced himself as Count Dooku, Sith Lord. You swallowed your response of fear and asked bitterly what he wanted with your planet. It was exactly what the Republic had come for about a solar year ago. As the Sith Lord kept rambling along about why he needed your planet, you anxiously awaited the arrival of the Republic. You didn't want war on Dalmorth, but that was almost unavoidable at this point.

You respectfully asked Count Dooku to have his troops retreat while you discuss terms of negotiation with him, and ordered your guards to the outskirts of the palace to escort Dooku to a room where he could be quartered overnight.

"You highness. The Separatist forces have been sent back to the command ship except for a single platoon requested by the Count for his safety. The Republic forces should be arriving soon," you most loyal guard informed you.

You nodded, "Thank y- Wait. A Separatist command ship?"

"I'll alert the Jedi," he quickly responded, hurrying out of the room. You slumped into the throne and dragged your fingers along the intricate design of the woodwork, the thought of war on your planet tearing you apart. Your eyes glanced up at the oil painting of your parents on the wall, the former King and Queen of Dalmorth.

"I wish you were still here," you whispered, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. The horrific images of the accident flashed before your eyes before you opened them. All you wanted right now was their guidance. Dalmorth hasn't been at war in over three centuries, and that was coming to and end before your eyes.

Trying not to fall asleep on the throne, awaiting the Jedi's arrival was nearly impossible. In an effort to pass time, you scrolled through the holochannels until a game of bolo ball caught your attention. Before the match ended, you were alerted of the Jedi's arrival.

"Finally", you mumbled under your breath, turning the match off and straightening your posture upon the throne.

"Your highness," the one Jedi announced, pulling down his hood, "My name is General Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this here is General Anakin Skywalker. We are here to insure the safety of your people during this separatist invasion."

"Will my planet remain beautiful as it currently is?" You asked, the landscape of Dalmorth being your favorite part of the planet.

The Jedi glacned at each other with discomfort in their eyes. They knew keeping minimal damage could always be a struggle when fighting the droids. "We will try our hardest," Kenobi nodded.

"Thank you," you grinned, bowing your head slightly, "and also, generals, one of the leaders of the Separatist army is currently being quartered in the palace. He said he wanted to negotiate terms of aligning with the Separatists. I do not condone this and I fear we will no longer be faking neutrality."

The generals' faces dropped, "Who is this leader?"

"He called himself Count Dooku," you shrugged, not knowing of the grave mistake you've made.

"Your highness, you have a safety bunker, correct?" General Skywalker asked, moving his forearm to his face.

"Yes, my guards can take me there if you need-"

The General shook his head, "I'm going to send one of my best men to protect you." He turned his comlink on, "Rex, I need you or Fives to report to the palace immediately. Obi Wan will meet you outside."

"Do you really believe all of this is necessary?" you asked, trying to remain composed in hopes of having your world remain unscathed by the war.

"Unfortunately, yes. We have fought in countless battles against the Separatist Army. Whenever Dooku is present, it's a sign violence will soon follow," Anakin sighed, "we just want to insure your safety.

Obi Wan reentered the palace, this time with a Republic soldier next to him. "Your highness, this is Clone Captain Rex of the Grand Army of the Republic. He is one of our finest men and will certainly keep you safe in the event of an emergency."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he bowed, his voice muffled under the static of the helmet. "I was informed of a safety bunker. We best be headed there soon."

Everything was changing so fast. Just hours before this, not a single outsider was on Dalmorth. Everything was in harmony.

"You hold the lives of my people in your hands. We will side with the Republic. If the Separatists are as dangerous as you claim, please do everything you can to remove them with the least amount of violence possible. I'll allow the Senate to make decisions while I must be hidden from the exchange of fire," you frowned your final words to the Jedi Generals while the clone captain escorted you to your safety bunker.

The next few moments were a whirlwind. You were capable of leading the way to your bunker though if you had to put what was going through your mind into words, you'd be at a loss. The captain followed you into the secret concealed door that led to a stairway that went several stories below ground. He followed you into the blast doors of the bunker and locked them immediately, sighing in relief.

For a moment you were silent, still taking in everything that was happening. You watched Rex take a seat on the futon and look around. Even though he helmet was on, you could tell he was in awe of how luxurious of a safety bunker you had.

"It's like you have a mini palace down here," the captain joked, his helmet still muffling the sound of his voice.

You sighed and sat down on the edge of the only bed in the bunker, "I thought I'd never have to use it."

Rex took off his helmet and placed it on the ground. You gasped softly, in pure admiration of what you saw. Prior to this, you've never seen a Republic soldier. You didn't expect them to be as handsome as Rex was. As he was scrolling through a holopad, presumably trying to get some information on the pending battle, you admired every square inch of him. You notice the faint scars that are scattered over his face, wondering if his whole body is like that. The made you frown.

"Are you okay, your highness?" he asked, noticing your frown.

Quick, you snap out of your trance and look away from the handsome captain, "I'm fine, sir. How long do you think we'll be down here?"

"Not sure," he hummed, "Depends how quickly we can get the Seppies to retreat. General Skywalker is incredible at what he does. I'm sure it should be too long. Maybe two days."

"We're stuck down here for two days?!" you gasped, beginning to panic. As your breaths began to become shallower and more rapid, Rex rushed to you and kneeled down in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"It's going to be okay your highness," he confidently smiled, "I promise."

"Call me (Y/N)," you whispered, sinking your head into your chest.

"Well, (Y/N). I promise, everything is going to be okay. Would it made you feel better if you laid down and I put something on the holovision for you?"

You quickly nodded and smiled, queuing Rex to go put the holovision on.

"I'll be right here if you need anything," he smiled, sitting back down on the futon as you laid down in the bed.

~~~

You woke up from your nap and let out a soft groan, stretching out your shoulders.

"Sleep well?" Rex asked, still on the futon. As you looked across the room to reply to him, you noticed he took his upper armor off. Instead of answering his question, you began to stare at his tight under armor suit against his toned body.

"(Y/N)?" he asked again, bringing you back.

"Slept great, you?" you laughed, nervously shifting you attention to the chips in your nail polish.

Rex shook his head, "I didn't sleep. I'm supposed to be protecting you, remember."

A small smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he glanced up at you.

"You have a nice smile," you hummed, getting off the bed and making your way to the futon next to him.

"Excuse me?"

"I said," you sat next to him, "you have a nice smile."

He huffed, "That makes me and about a million others."

"Oh please," you let the syllables roll off your tongue, "I don't know much about cloning but I'm sure you all smile a bit different. Emotions can't be engineered."

Rex opened his mouth, then closed it, seeming to not know how to respond.

"A smile is created over time. Everyone's looks different," you grinned.

"I never thought of it that way," he commented, squinting slightly, "what makes you say that."

You rolled your eyes, "You say that like I'm the first person to tell you that. Not a single girl in this galaxy has told you that you have a nice smile? I wouldn't believe that for a second."

"For a queen, you are being especially kind to someone so much lesser than you."

His tone was firm. It took you back for a second. He was being serious.

"Your social status shouldn't determine who gives you compliments. Praise is given where praise is deserved. Or, at least, that's how I try to make it on Dalmorth," you shrugged.

Rex bit his lower lip, thinking about what you said, "Well, if this war ever ends, maybe I'll consider coming here to live. Tell me more about it here."

Even though he'd been on many different protection missions before, and asked the question, "tell me about it here," many times, this time, he actually cared about the response. He was not only taking your mind off the horrors happening outside the palace, but he was seeing your words from your perspective. Which for once, actually meant something to him.

"We have so many vast landscapes here. We have tropical regions, tundra regions, and everything in-between. That's one of my favorite things here. Sometimes, I'll go outside and lay down in the grasslands outside the palace, listen to the nature around me. All of the people on this planet are so compassionate. We are raised on values of charity and love. Though I am the queen, I like to think of myself as just as important as everyone else on Dalmorth. After my parents passed in an accident, I was showered with so much support. Why can't every citizen be held to that high of a regard. Anyway, it's been lonely here being the only royalty in the palace, but there is still no where else I'd rather be. My king will some, someday."

Rex smiled as he listened to you talk. Your happiness was radiating onto him, an effect no one has ever had on him. "The people here are lucky to have you as their leader. If I wasn't in the army I'd want to explore the town myself."

You perked up, "I'd love to offer you a tour!"

"That sounds lovely, but that can't happen," he sighed, moving his body slightly away from yours.

"Why's that?"

Rex moved his hand to the back of his neck and softly scratched, "That's not a luxury a trooper gets."

"You're not allowed to walk around a Republic aligned town?" you asked confused. The true treatment of Republic troops was still blissfully unaware to you.

"Well. It's a lot. But to make a long story short, yes," he muttered, reaching for his holopad, trying to end the conversation without being rude.

You placed your hands on your thighs and stood up from the futon, grabbing a snack from the food supply, "If we're going to be down here for two days, I'd be willing to hear the long story, not the short one." He slowly looked up at you in awe. He felt like he was dreaming. "Snack?"

Rex nodded and you tossed him a cereal bar.

"So, tell me the long story."

"Are you sure? No one has asked me-"

You stopped him in the middle of his sentence but placing your index finger on his lips, "I want to know more about you."

And that is exactly where it began. In that moment, Rex's eyes met yours, where he saw everything. For the first time in his life, he truly felt as if someone cared.

"Your highness," he whispered, "I've never done this before, so I apologize in advance."

As soon as you were about to ask what he meant, he parted his lips and pressed them into yours. His lips were rough, chapped from the war, but them seemed to lay perfectly on yours. It was almost hard to believe he has never kissed someone before; his movements felt so natural, so perfect.

He slowly pulled his face away from yours. The second eye contact was made, he quickly looked away, in a shame like manner. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I don't know why I did that."

You smiled, "There's got to be a reason why you did that. Not like I'm complaining or anything. I mean, I did it back because I think you're ridiculously handsome."

"Oh, no no no no no," he sighed, standing up and pacing around the room, "I'm a clone. I'm not allowed to have emotional attachment. I just made this next few days awkward. I'm sorry."

"You're not allowed to have basic human emotions?"

"(Y/N). I just broke one of the most important rules of the Grand Army of the Republic. I-"

You interrupted his ramble, "Rex come with me."

"Come with you where?"

"I mean," you stumbled over your words, "stay here on Dalmorth with me. I rarely abuse my power but I think I can make a circumstance for this. Please."

"(Y/N), I have a duty to the Republic."

You smirked, "And I have one of the oldest locks in the galaxy."

He looked at you baffled and you approached him and grabbed his left hand, placing a golden band on the second finger. "What is this?" he asked as the band seemed to magically size to the size of his finger.

With his hand still in yours, you smiled, "It's the Dalmorth lock band. The band is given to the Queen after the King passes. The ring is to remain on the King's finger from the moment the Queen places it on him, until the moment he dies."

Rex stared at you with a blank face, "So I'm the-"

"King," you both say simultaneously.

"But why?" he asked, breathing heavily.

You laughed, "Something in my heart told me to. And Rex means king in the native language of my people. But mostly that first point."

It's been two years since Dalmorth was invaded by the Separatist army. Two years since your beautiful planet was almost torn apart by the demons of war.

It's been one year since the war ended. You leaned against the balcony that was attached to your bedroom, starring out at the rolling fields that made up the backyard of your palace. Daylight was just beginning to break, and you were still in your sleepwear. Slowly, you began to untie your loose braids to let the cool morning air run through your hair.

"It still amazes me that you wear such stunning outfits even to bed," Rex smildd behind you, slowly pacing towards you. He surrounded you with his arms and placed his head on your shoulder, giving you a soft kiss on the neck.

You looked down at your nightgown. It was a mix of lavender and grey lace, with silver embellishments here and there. Rex, on the other hand, wasn't wearing much. Just a pair in sleep pants and a robe, which he only put on when he joined you on the balcony.

"If you told me a year and a half ago, I'd be where I am now, I'd call you crazy," he mumbled against your shoulder.

With a small smile, you turned your head into his, kissing his temple, "If you told me two years ago Dalmorth would be a battle ground and I'd meet the future King of Dalmorth all in a few hour time span, I'd call you even crazier."

"If you told me back when I was a cadet on Kamino that I would marry a gorgeous queen, I'd call you the craziest."

You laughed, "are we just going to do this all day?"

The moment was interrupted by the morning bells that rang from the palace every morning, reminding the citizen that it's a brand new day, full of opportunity.

"Who would have thought a clone like me would end up here?"

"I did," you smiled, standing up on your toes to give him a gentle kiss.

And just like that, Rex got the one thing he's always craved; love. JOIN MY TAGLIST

@soclonely @raf-loves-everything @peacelandbread @persaloodles @smellssharpies @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @hannahjessica113 @gryffindorqueensworld @ganondorf-has-greasy-balls @lightning-wolffe @roadworkahead-404 @000ayfh @coffeeandtodd @weragarsia @sarel-lavellan @ahsoka-padme @clone-lover501-212-104 @Stucky2k3

this may have sucked oops

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #clone x reader #tcw #clone wars #Star Wars the clone wars #Star Wars fanfiction #ct7567329writes

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mirahuyooo · 4 years

Text

Nighthawk | ksj

Nighthawk

—No matter the effort, he always plagues your mind in nights like this one, reminding you of the feelings you let get out of hand.

Word Count: 1,638 Contents: AnGST, a smidgen of fluff and crack, jin and y/n are besties OwO Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader A/N: I noticed I haven’t written anything for jin in a long while (shame on me) so here’s this! I’m in mood for love—unrequited love. Hope you all enoyed! Today’s sad, sad piece is inspired by the word;

Nighthawk

n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.

P.S. I just wanna remind everyone that dYNAMITE IS COMING SOON oehgtiuabrgujbaufg prepare YOUR LoINS eveRYONE we’RE about tO gET deSTROYED ahksgabrigk

[masterlist]

A sigh leaves your lips as you close the door behind you, setting your bag down on the nearby kitchen counter. It was late—very late. Your face disappears behind the hand that you had brought forth to rub the furrowing of your eyebrows away. There was a damning silence that reigned over your empty Seoul city apartment, and you were attacked from it reflecting your current state, leaving you no choice but to throw yourself in bed.

The moonlight filters lightly through the curtains, casting over the lump of blankets you soon cocooned yourself in. Not even bothering to slip out of the clothes you’ve been wearing for the past twelve hours, you buried your face into one of the many spare pillows you had placed around you, hugging it closer to your chest as you dealt with the fissures seizing your heart. Alas, the frustration of not falling asleep adds to the weight you carry with you. At the very least, with the pillows surrounding you, whatever demons lurking in the dark won’t be able to add to the problems you were dealing with.

You knew it was a senseless and pathetic feat. All of this was practically your own fault. You were, after all, the architect of your own melancholy, and, for some unfortunate reason, you were exceptionally good at this particular skill.

Fuelling your despair, you deemed it befitting to punish yourself by reaching for your phone and further depriving yourself of much needed sleep. You’ve been lying around for what seemed like eternity—you weren’t quite sure. Your mind barely registers the numbers that the clock displayed before you, and in all honesty, you’ve lost the ability to care about it at all. You’ve stayed up well past the hours of 2 AM before, doing the same self-wallowing sessions you were doing right now. You had long been a seasoned connoisseur in ploughing through ungodly hours—something he’s always scolded you for.

As some sort of hilarious joke you couldn’t quite understand, fate throws something in your way as you scroll through Twitter—a picture of you and the very man who’s been plaguing your thoughts at 2:18 AM in the morning—Kim Seokjin. Even as your eyes start to blur with tears, they still drink his beauty in—his plump lips, his deep piercing eyes, and his confident gait. Combine those compelling factors with his welcoming persona, astounding cooking skills, and sheer talent, and you’ve got yourself one fine man that you’ve been simping over for the past decade or so. Oh, how blessed you’d be if he was yours.

Unfortunately, there also existed compelling factors that couldn’t make Kim Seokjin yours.

For instance, there was your remarkable trait of being a damn coward. Residing so long within the realm of the accursed Friend Zone had fashioned your fears into mighty beasts that bullied you into staying within the borders of the said zone, regardless of your countless attempts to escape it. Always at the last minute, your mind compels you to retreat at the nightmare of ruining the friendship you two had fostered over so many years—should he ever realize that you were a peasant compared to his princely attributes.

Speaking of being low beneath him, you very much were one. You’ve made peace with your inferiority to his beauty and lifestyle, so much that you could stomach sitting next to him in all of your bare-faced, broke glory. You were well aware that you were average—disagreeable next to him, but average nonetheless.

In other aspects, your mundane life also pales in contrast to his exhilarating endeavors. He’s a beloved icon—a passionate singer and graceful dancer who tours the world to meet the millions he’s touched with his words and his group’s songs. You, on the other hand, exist on the other side of the spectrum. You were no one special really, which you really didn’t mind since you weren’t keen on being in the spotlight. The closest shot to fame you ever had was when you were revealed to be Kim Seokjin’s non-showbiz best friend who once shamelessly dominated him on an episode of EatJin.

You weren’t even his type, which had greatly satiated the accusations of some fans—it’s still undecided if you should take full offense on that one. You weren’t the cutesy, feminine, soft girl that’s often alluded to be matched with him. You were capable of a meal or two, but you were no master chef. The only thing in the box that you know you fulfil very well is that you take care of him—and you’re enormously proud of that accomplishment of yours.

As much as you mother him at times, there are still many a days where you wonder why on Earth he even remains as your best friend—what more if he was to be your boyfriend?

Another sigh leaves your lips once again, tearing your eyes away from the screen to stare up at the moon outside your window—the sole witness of the late night happenings that occur within the premises of your desolate life. Ah, but even the moon would remind you of him.

There was a sensation going abuzz within you—something you knew all too well. You’ve done your best to ignore the infestation of feelings that had apprehended your very being, even attempting to exterminate it by going on numerous blind dates. Unfortunately, the damn lovebug has always damned you, always surviving and multiplying with every sweet gesture, every dashing smile, and every uplifting heart-to-heart that he delivers to you.

All of a sudden, your phone rings. The screen reveals the face of the very man you’ve been having a debate with your mind about. Jin was calling you.

“Why does he have to be like this?” you whined to no one in particular, snivelling away as you were further left a mess. The moment your hand properly holds the device again, you glare at the image. “I hate him,” you grumble, but not really.

As soon as you answered, you weren’t given a chance to talk. “Why are you online?” he instantly asks you in that scolding tone you were so familiar with.

Your heart flutters, even you went to roll your eyes. “Why are you up?” you countered childishly, voice raspy from your recent breakdown.

Jin’s delectable chuckle makes you squeak into the plush of a nearby pillow. “Ya! I just woke up,” he defensively says, not seeming to take notice of your little stunt. “I’m just grabbing a little snack, and then I’ll go back to bed,” he informs you, “busy day tomorrow, after all.”

You hum, as your insides continue with its attempts to betray you. “I couldn’t sleep,” you find yourself admitting to him in a weakened tone.

As you hear the slight ruckus in the background, Jin tsk-ed at your bad decisions. You prepared yourself to be told off. “Scrolling through social media won’t help, stupid,” he softly chastised, much to your surprise and damnation. “Drink the tea I got you from Japan,” he tells you, making you fluster. “You still have that right?”

You could only hum in response, as you further coiled into a fetal position—as if to say you were made as soft as a baby by this man. You held back a snivel, as your mess of emotions continued to make you cry over him.

“Good,” Jin says, still not aware of the true state of ruin you were in. “Go on and drink some, then. It’ll help you sleep.”

A sniff escapes you. “Okay,” you say with a whimper clinging onto the last syllable.

This time, your best friend doesn’t miss the sound. You could imagine him freezing, stopping whatever it was he was doing. “(Y/N), are you alright?” he asks, concern already pouring through in those few words alone.

Not wanting to conflict him, you went out of your way to fake a cough and a few more sniffles. “Yeah,” you said, in spite of your heart hammering against your chest. “I’m just tired from all the arranging earlier.”

The silence that followed was eventually broken by Jin clearing his throat. “Rest well then,” he tells you, before he goes to tease. “No one should look ugly at my wedding, and that includes you.”

Ah, there it was—the one last factor that cements you to the confines of your prison cell in the zone of unrequited love.

“Good night, (Y/N),” he says, voice gentle enough to destroy your heart.

In the silence that followed, Jin didn’t hang up. He never really does hang up first. You smile bitterly, tears silently flowing one after the other like a waterfall. “Goodbye, Jin,” you tell him, ending the call just as a sob wrecks through you. You put down your phone, and cry into your pillow.

Kim Seokjin—your best friend, your greatest regret—is getting married, and to a woman you knew would be perfect for him—a woman so graceful, beautiful, and skillful. After all, you were the one who had introduced the two of them together in the first place. You had no doubt that the two of them would be happily ever after.

You wonder then, if you hadn’t pushed your feelings aside so adamantly and went with the hell of it, would you have been the one in white to be waiting down the aisle? At any point in time, was there really a smidgen of a chance that Jin would’ve said that he liked you back?

You’ll never know.

Your puffy eyes wander towards the lone moon that shone brightly behind your sheer curtains. Your nightly companion was staring right back at you, but all you could hear were your thoughts.

It was all your fault.

#bts au #bts imagines #bts angst #bts jin #bts kim seokjin #bts jin imagine #bts jin x reader #kim seokjin #kim seokjin angst #kim seokjin imagines #kim seokjin x reader

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tosskah · 4 years

Text

Pom Pom and Votes Chapter 6

Stupid Ming

AO3

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

This is becoming a troubling pattern. Every interaction with Ty Lee seems to take over her thoughts. Now all she can think about is the kisses they shared when she dropped her off. How perfectly their hands fit together on the way out of cheer practice. The gentle, peaceful sight of her asleep on the couch. With so many exquisite sensations, how can she be expected to focus on school work? Azula has given up trying to fight it. Surely it’s a game Ty Lee is playing, but why shouldn’t she get to enjoy it? She’s never played a game like this before, and she has never had this much fun. Giving into the thoughts makes the day pass by blissfully quickly, although she doesn’t have a chance to run into Ty Lee until the dismissal bell.

“Hey!!” Ty Lee greets as she bounces into view. Her body stutters, as if she wants to move in closer, but she stops herself. Interesting, Azula smirks, opening her locker.

“Hey,” she replies, slipping into a larger smile without realizing. “Didn’t see you at lunch.” Her tone is inquisitive, rather than accusatory.

“I knooooow, I’m so sorry! I borrowed my friend’s notes yesterday, so I had to give them back, and then we got distracted talking and then I had like five minutes to eat, so!! How was your day?” Ty Lee is breathless in her excitement, and the way she looks earnestly into Azula’s eyes when she asks the question is almost enough to unbalance her. The look is so…. genuine.

“It was fine,” Azula shrugs, mercifully breaking eye contact to trade her last class’s books for her student council materials. “Classes were easy so I spent most of the day making sure I had everything ready for the student council meeting.” This is not exactly the truth. Classes were easy, but she definitely did not spend the day thinking about student council.

“Ohmygosh!! That’s right now, isn’t it? Are you excited? Are you nervous? Do you even get nervous? You seem so confident all the time!” Ty Lee has somehow become more enthusiastic. Refusing to be swayed by the bubbly energy, she shrugs again and shuts her locker.

“I don’t think there will be any problems. The council will just be looking for me to tell them what to do, what to expect for this year. Should be easy enough,” she says, pulling back from the bank of lockers to head toward the student council office. Ty Lee naturally falls into step beside her, still carrying her books and nodding vigorously.

“Right!” she agrees, adding, “That will be easy! You’re good at telling people what to do!”

Azula mulls this for a moment, savoring the warmth of the compliment. The last compliment Ty Lee gave her was telling her that she was a good kisser. The memory makes her blush, and she fights the sensation. She can’t show up to her first meeting like this!! While she grapples with her feelings, Ty Lee fills the silence.

“Text me after so I know how it went, ‘kay? My sister won’t drive me home if I make her wait. But I know you’re going to be the greatest president ever!! They’re so lucky to have you in charge!” she beams and peels herself away, heading for the door.

“I’ll text you,” Azula assures, watching her join the current of dismissing students.

Azula is the first to arrive in the student council room, as expected. She sets her leather folio at the head of the table and removes the copies of the agenda she typed up for the meeting. It is short work to flip through them and double check that she has the right amount, and by then other council members are trickling in. She greets them with a curt nod as she continues to prepare her materials. A few of the members speak quietly to each other and take their seats. No one fills the chairs closest to her, but she is used to that. By her count, almost everyone is present with a few minutes before the meeting is to start. It’s a good sign. With one minute before the meeting is scheduled to begin, the final member of the council swans in, phone to her ear. Her entrance is unmistakable as she bursts into obnoxiously loud laughter.

“Yeah, that’s so funny!! Anyway, I gotta go, I have a meeting. I’ll call you after. Bye!!” The newcomer disconnects her call and takes the chair to the right of Azula. All eyes are on the girl, though Azula’s are particularly narrowed.

“Now that we are all here, let’s get started,” she begins, tone clipped. A few of the members further down the table wince. The phone girl snorts, prompting a sharp look from the president. Azula sets her jaw and passes the copies of the agenda down the table, making a point to start on the opposite side of the troublemaker so she will receive hers last. “Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves and our position, and then we can go through the agenda,” Azula adds, pleased that everyone has seen fit to sit silently and await instructions. She gestures to the boy on her left, again ensuring that the troublemaker will have to wait until the end for her turn in the spotlight. She also doesn’t bother introducing herself. Everyone knows who she is and what she does. Azula half listens, matching faces to names and titles. The rest of her attention is spent monitoring the thorn in her right side. The girl’s name eludes her for now, which makes her even more frustrating. Her face is familiar in a bad way, but Azula cannot place her. At least she is enduring the introductions respectfully, other than fiddling with the corner of the agenda before her. Realization strikes at last. The reason this girl is so irksome is that she’s the same one that tried to get Ty Lee to go out with Ruon-Jian! Azula feels her anger flare just as the girl makes her introduction.

“I’m Ming, the treasurer,” she says, giving a half wave. The group returns their attention to their president, waiting for her to continue the meeting. Azula cuts her glare at the treasurer short and looks at the agenda as a distraction, taking a deep breath to collect herself. Ming does not seem perturbed to be on the receiving end of such hostility, which makes her even more annoying.

“Our first order of business needs to be the Homecoming dance, since it is only 8 weeks away,” she says smoothly, “I would like each of you to come with at least one idea for a theme by next week so we can secure vendors as soon as possible-”

Her commandment is interrupted by Ming, sighing loudly.

“Something on your mind, Ming?” Azula’s tone is polite, but her eyes look fit to skewer her. The other girl pretends not to notice as she lounges in her chair, gesturing vaguely.

“There’s no point waiting a week to pick the theme. Why not just decide it now? Then we can get a week’s headstart on securing vendors.”

“If you look at the agenda for today, you will see that we already have plenty to cover-” Azula replies, the politeness sounding much more strained in every syllable. Ming’s response is a huff of disgust. Azula’s hand clenches involuntarily. “If you have concerns, Ming, let’s talk about them after this meeting so we don’t take up more valuable time.” She seals it with a smile that looks more like a baring of teeth.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m not scared of you, so meeting one on one isn’t a problem,” Ming replies flippantly.

“Excuse me?” Azula snaps, pretending not to notice every other member of the council cowering.

“I said,” Ming draws her words out excruciatingly slowly, “meeting later sounds fine.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Azula says flatly, inspiring an eye roll from her rival. Without giving her another opportunity to disrupt the meeting, she pushes on with the agenda. It goes surprisingly quickly, although it might be because not one other council member can bring themselves to do anything other than nod minutely along with what Azula has to say. Their eyes are trained resolutely on the paper before them, as if any stray eye contact might earn some of her wrath for themselves. To be fair, they are correct. Ming contents herself with quieter sighs and gentler eye rolls, but doesn’t add any further commentary. The meeting wraps up five minutes earlier than projected, which is almost enough to put Azula in a good mood. The council members nearly trample each other in their eagerness to get out before another showdown can take place. Azula leaves her materials on the table. She isn’t going anywhere. She is ready for this fight, however long it takes.

“So,” she begins, piercing Ming with a look, “do you have any more concerns?”

Ming counters with a shrug, though she can’t meet the gaze leveled at her. “Hey, just because you are the mayor’s kid doesn’t mean you’re the best fit for the job. I’m not just going to let you do whatever you want, unlike the rest of the council. Besides, do you really think you’ll have the time to give this job the attention it deserves?”

“What do you mean?” Azula asks, brow creasing. Why wouldn’t she have time?

Ming meets her eyes at last, replying, “Seems like you’re pretty focused on your dating life right now, that’s all.”

Azula’s lips curl into a sinister smile. There it is, she thinks, satisfied. Ming is furious that I’m dating Ty Lee. “Unlike some, I am capable of focusing on more than one thing at a time. You’re friends with Ty Lee, right?”

“I am!” Ming responds instantly. Angrily. “I want what’s best for her, and there’s no way you can devote enough time to both her and this position!”

“Why don’t you let me decide what I can and can’t handle,” Azula replies, her voice a silken warning.

“If you hurt her, your year is going to be impossible, do you understand? I won’t approve funds for any of your projects. You’ll be the most hated president this school has ever had. Put that on your fucking college application,” Ming points an accusatory finger at her.

“Noted,” Azula says, the picture of calm. She threads her fingers together on the table in front of her, showing she is above vulgar displays such as pointing. “Any other threats you want to make, or are we done here?”

“Whatever,” Ming mutters, snatching her backpack off the floor and stomping out of the council room. Azula watches her go, grinning. As soon as the treasurer is out of sight, Azula’s smile evaporates. This insubordination is going to be a problem, she stews, collecting her materials.

Azula makes it home in record time. That tends to happen when she drives while angry. Something about hearing the engine growl as it accelerates is soothing. It’s like the car is commiserating with her. The car also cannot be anything other than obedient, which is a relief after her meeting.

The house is deserted, as always, when she arrives. Well, unless one counts the staff, which she doesn’t. Her backpack is deposited unceremoniously in her room, where she proceeds to change into workout clothes.

She is too keyed up from the confrontation. The only way she is going to be able to enjoy her evening is if she gets this energy out, and there’s no better way than to practice martial arts in the home gym. The room is cool in comparison to the rest of the house, and she loves the feeling of her bare feet on the springy mats that cover the floor. One wall is made entirely of mirrors so she can see her form and adjust as needed. A few padded dummies wait patiently in the corners, as well as a rack of free weights. Otherwise the space is wide open. She centers herself by drawing in a deep breath. The grating sound of Ming’s laugh comes to mind and she releases the breath in time with an open palm strike. Another breath, another strike, this time with the opposite hand. Her feet slide easily forward, advancing on her imaginary enemy. A feint at a low kick snaps to a brutal high kick, and she feels her agitation beginning to melt away. Seeing her reflection perform each precise move helps, but she is itching to feel her attacks deal some damage.

She drags one of the dummies out to the center of the room. It is vaguely humanoid in shape, and will offer some pleasing pushback when struck. Azula circles her opponent, hands raised in a guard. Her eyes don’t leave her prey as she waits for the perfect time to strike. There’s no need to glance down at her feet. She has practiced so much that it is as easy as breathing. Her forearm lashes out to deflect an imaginary punch from her left, allowing her the perfect opening to strike at the dummy’s unprotected neck. Stupid Ming, she thinks, hitting the dummy to punctuate each syllable. It becomes hypnotic, clustering her attack in groups of three. Stu. Pid. Ming. Stu. Pid. Ming. Stu. Pid. Ming...

Soon her hands are starting to feel pleasantly sore from the impact, and she feels other thoughts creeping in at last to replace the image of Ming’s insolent face. The fact that Ming’s protests seem to be centered around Ty Lee. Ty Lee… Azula’s concentration drifts, and she reverts back to a guarded stance, circling the dummy. She takes note of how hard she is breathing, but it’s a good sign. It’s why she came here in the first place, after all.

Her frustration shifts stances as well, turning to an anxious twist in her stomach. Has Ty Lee been telling people we kissed? Do I want her to tell people? It’s not like I have anyone to share it with… Surely half the cheer team saw us walking out holding hands and can draw their conclusions from there. Ming has certainly been drawing her own conclusions. Azula interrupts her thoughts to deal a punishing kick to the dummy’s midsection. She imagines Ty Lee’s bubbly voice, introducing her to her friends, “This is my girlfriend, Azula!” and a strange, nervous warmth clamors from her gut to her heart. She’s never been anyone’s girlfriend before. Never wanted to, really. But the idea of that word, coming from Ty Lee, makes her feel….excited? Proud? It’s hard to name, but she likes it. And that would mean that Ty Lee is my girlfriend, she reasons, landing another volley of open palms on her opponent. When she checks her reflection to note her form, she catches herself with a sly smile. My girlfriend is a giddy thought that her mind won’t let go of. It’s invigorating, and she launches a fresh attack against the helpless dummy.

But what if she’s not my girlfriend? The thought comes without warning, and she pulls back for a moment, feeling as though the floor has dropped out from under her. What if she doesn’t want to be my girlfriend? Her shoulders seize with tension. She did say I was a good kisser, her mind objects, desperate, And she wouldn’t have gone out with me if she didn’t like spending time with me. The dummy absorbs a handful of hits, swaying from the momentum. How am I supposed to know if she’s my girlfriend or not? Why is this so complicated?!

Her opponent is wobbling dangerously now, and she backs off until it steadies. Azula’s breathing feels panicked, so she sucks in a slow breath to calm herself, assess her situation. I can just ask Ty Lee if she is my girlfriend and then there won’t be any confusion. The realization gives her a surge of energy, which she pours into a feint of a kick, before following up with a savage spinning kick with the opposite leg. Her landing, as always, is perfect, and she walks away from the defeated dummy with a content sigh to return to her room.

With a towel in one hand and her phone in the other, Azula realizes she was supposed to inform Ty Lee how her meeting went. Oh well, she shrugs, I can fill her in now. As she dabs the sweat from her face, she is shocked to see how many notifications are waiting for her- all from Ty Lee, of course. Anxiety forms a knot in her stomach. What if all these messages are berating her for not texting right after the meeting? What if she doesn’t want to be my girlfriend? Azula fights the rising sensation of panic as she opens the texts.

👀👋Helllloooooo Miss President??? How was your meeting??👍

Wanna call and tell me about it💅 or do u have more ~official business~ tonite??

😱Oh no! I heard there was a little bit of a fight or something😓?? U okay??

😖I know ur probably just busy with ur important stuff but i’m worried🙀!! Txt me plz??🙏🙏

Azula releases the breath she was holding. Definitely not a tirade by any means, but she does feel a twinge of regret for forgetting to text after the meeting. Stupid Ming. But wait… how did Ty Lee already hear about the meeting from someone else? Surely no one would have posted about it online…. She quickly opens a flurry of apps, checking for posts from the council members. None of them strike her as bold enough to complain about the meeting with their name attached to the post, but she has to be sure. Despite a diligent search, she can’t find anything. She does notice, however, that Ty Lee has posted some new pictures and eagerly taps the link. She must’ve gotten bored waiting for me to text, she smirks. The expression falls immediately into a scowl as she clicks through the pictures.

While the first few posts are selfies, Ty Lee is quickly joined by another subject. Ming, posing with her arm around Ty Lee and their faces practically touching. ‘Selfies with my bestie!! #friends #bestfriends #selfie #bestfriendselfie #bestfie??’ is the caption. Azula is engulfed in a hot wave of anger as she sees picture after picture of the two of them smiling and posing together. Her knuckles are white around her phone and her jaw aches from clenching.

How could I have been so stupid? She admonishes herself, flopping dejectedly on her bed. Ty Lee is clearly a master strategist. She will get close to me, since I have the most power, but she needs a back up plan in case I won’t give her what she wants. So of course she would cozy up to someone else on the council. Now she will have a mole inside the council as well. I should have been able to see this coming. Ugh, why did she have to pick Ming?? Of all the insufferable people, Ty Lee picked the worst one!!! Azula heaves a sigh, and realizes it sounds just like one Ming gave during the meeting.

“Augh!!!” she groans, running her hand over her face. A very small part of her is impressed, though. Beneath that cute persona, Ty Lee is clearly very calculating. A worthy challenge… or ally, if I play this right. She takes a few deep breaths to steady herself, then makes her way to the shower. She can’t counter Ty Lee in this state.

____

Soon enough, she is in fresh clothes and climbing into her car. The drive to Ty Lee’s affords her plenty of time to get her thoughts in order, so when she pulls up to the house, she is more than ready. She smoothly selects the cheer captain’s number and hits “call”.

“Azula?? Ohmygosh, are you okay??” Ty Lee answers after one ring, and her tone is so convincing that it almost passes for worry. But Azula is too shrewd to fall for it.

“I’m outside. Why don’t you come out and I’ll tell you all about it,” she replies evenly.

“What? You’re-- oh! Um, okay!! Let me just-- I’ll be out in a minute, okay? Bye!”

Azula sets her phone down with a smirk. Spirits, she’s a good actress, she thinks, watching the front door. Ty Lee appears in an instant and bounds the rest of the distance to the car.

“Hey,” Azula greets, watching her companion clamber onto the passenger seat. Ty Lee’s eyes are brimming with concern, causing Azula to marvel even more.

“Are you okay??”Ty Lee asks breathlessly, reaching out to grip her hand, “I heard things got a little heated at the meeting and then I didn’t get texts from you and-”

“Who did you hear it from?” Azula interrupts.

“Well, Ming came over after the meeting and was telling me-” Ty Lee begins, but is cut off by a snort from Azula.

“So you’re just going to own up right away? That you had Ming report back to you? I was sure we would be dancing around that for at least 5 minutes,” Azula scoffs.

“What?!” Ty Lee sputters, her wide eyes the picture of innocence. Azula raises an eyebrow and waits patiently for an explanation. Ty Lee withdraws her hand and replies, “Ming wasn’t ‘reporting back to me’! She’s my friend, she just came over to hang out. She told me she had to stay after the meeting to go over some stuff with you, that’s all.”

“Did she tell you she told me I couldn’t possibly be a good president because the two of us are dating? As if having a girlfriend somehow takes up all my time and makes me unfit?” Azula fires back. She watches the other girl’s expression closely, looking for any clue that the term ‘girlfriend’ is unwanted or unpleasant. The only emotion on her face, however, is surprise.

“She said that?! I’m sure she didn’t mean….: Ty Lee trails off, chewing her lip before continuing, “Ming has always been a really protective friend, so I’m sure she was just trying to look out for me…. But I’m sorry that she said that. I can, um, talk to her about that.” She pauses again, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. “Is that why you wouldn’t text me? Cause you were mad about what Ming said?”

Azula considers this for a moment, then nods. It’s close enough. Ty Lee seems to be doing everything in her power to appear small and defeated. A clever tactic, Azula notes. The cheerleader’s shoulders are slumped and she isn’t even trying to put Azula off balance with direct eye contact. Rather than reach for Azula, her palms cradle her face. Ty Lee draws a deep breath before finding the words to say.

“Next time…. Could you please, please just text me to tell me that? Or just… anything. ‘Hey, the meeting is over and I’m mad and I’ll talk to you later’ or something. Because. I thought. I thought something bad might have happened to you on your way home, like a car accident, or something. And I know that’s dumb to worry about, but it’s all I could think of, because you said would text me and then you didn’t. I was really worried! And then I was really surprised that you came over, and I thought it was a fun surprise that you had come to see me, but instead I’m like, getting yelled at over something that I had no idea about, and-” Her voice catches with emotion. For a moment, Azula thinks it might be real, not an act. “-and I don’t think that’s fair at all.”

Silence stretches between them for a long while. Azula isn’t quite sure how to respond. Being berated is something she is used to, but to be met with ‘I was worried about you’ and thinking her showing up unannounced could be a good thing… It’s truly impressive how unpredictable Ty Lee can be. These are kinds of battles she’s never fought before. It’s equally frustrating and thrilling. It seems the direct approach will not get the results she wants, so she must try something a little more discreet: kindness. It is a difficult path, however, because an apology is an admission of guilt, and she can’t give that kind of leverage.

“I can see that my actions have made you upset,” she begins, her voice more gentle than usual. Ty Lee straightens a little and chances a glance at her. “And that wasn’t my intention. I think my issues with Ming ended up with you caught in the middle, which isn’t what I want. I should have texted right after the meeting, like I said I would.” Azula reaches out, offering a hand for Ty Lee to hold. The other girl seems to think things over for a minute, but she tentatively puts her palm over Azula’s, and nods.

“Okay,” Ty Lee manages, her voice still tremulous.

“Okay,” Azula echoes, running her thumb over her knuckles.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Ty Lee adds, conjuring a weak smile, “But I should probably get back inside. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Azula assures her, offering a smile of her own. Part of her wonders if she might get a kiss for her efforts, but Ty Lee withdraws instead. Oh well, she reasons, watching her exit, I bet she is just stung because I won’t let her use her mole against me. Can’t blame her for that. She puts the car in reverse and is basking in her satisfaction as she realizes that Ty Lee didn’t correct her when she used the word ‘girlfriend,’ and she doesn’t stop grinning all the way home.

#tyzula #ty lee #azula #tyzula fic #tyzula fanfic #tyzula modern au #modern au #high school au #tyzula high school au

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star-and-the-motherverse · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 - The First Breath

The Butterfly Who Lost Her Wings

Word Count: 2980 | AO3 Mirror | Previous | Next

Summary: One question still remains… what does Star think of all this?

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♥ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Poor little Butterfly. You've lost your wings.”

Star had been in a lot of bad situations in the past, but this one was a top contender for the worst of it. The Whispering Spell had done its work and tossed her somewhere she didn’t recognize at all, into an ocean of what appeared to be corrupted liquid magic. Her plan—if it could even be called a plan—must have worked in some fashion, because Toffee was here with her, too.

Now that she had finally found him, she quickly began to realize why her wand had become so increasingly dysfunctional. His presence in this dimension was likely the source of the problem. He appeared to have manifested directly from what was left of the magic, taking on the same sickly green color as their surroundings. His sludge-covered figure occupied so much space that even a singular tooth of his was larger than her entire body. He had ahold of Star by her hair, clearly amused by her struggling.

“Let me go!”

He paid her no mind, instead focusing on the tear in space in front of him. It was a window to the real world, and it was so close, just within reach. It was right there. But no matter how much she yelled and screamed, her mother’s unflinching stare never changed. They were worlds apart. Only Toffee had the power to communicate with her now.

“Now then,” he began, grinning a malicious smile. “Your majesty… do we have a deal?”

Horrified, she saw Moon hold out her hand, offering the severed finger. Her mother’s face was wearing a reluctant frown. “Take it.”

“No, mom, stop!” Star shouted, frantically trying to swim towards the opening in the sky. Maybe if she got up there, she could stop her mother somehow. Toffee couldn’t win. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I can take him! Just hold on! Please!” She struggled and struggled, but no matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t seem to make it any further. Her mother placed the finger in his hand, and the deed was done. Magically, it reattached itself to his severed finger, and it looked as if nothing had ever been absent in the first place.

Inside of the wand, Toffee’s beady yellow eyes turned their focus to Star herself. She froze up as overwhelming fear washed over her. Everything about the situation was telling her to run as fast as she could, but she had nowhere to go. He towered over her smugly, content with what he had achieved. He lowered his head towards her, and she frantically tried to move as far away from him as she could.

“How does this make you feel, little Butterfly?” His voice was menacingly low. “Do you feel scared? Helpless?”

“Y-you won’t get away with this,” she snarled back, doing her best to appear intimidating.

“Get away with what, princess? Tell me, what do you know about my true intentions?”

He was right, in some capacity. At the end of the day, she still hardly knew anything about him or his motives. She couldn’t help but ask herself, what do I have to do with this?

Toffee’s patronizing grin widened as her uncertainty grew. “I do admire your fortitude, Star, but you really should know what you’re getting involved with before you charge in headfirst. There’s nothing brave about making foolish choices in the moment.”

“I’m going to fix the problems that I created,” the princess declared. “You’ve hurt my family enough, I’m not gonna let you do it again!”

“How admirable of you.” Toffee hummed, pausing to think for a moment. “You know… we are not so different, you and I.”

“No! You’re a murderer!” Star hissed. “We aren’t anything like each other, not at all!”

“I only do what I must to help me bring my cause to reality,” he explained plainly, remaining excruciatingly vague. “I don’t believe you’ll understand it just yet, but you will. Oh, you certainly will. This place will make you realize it.”

Star allowed herself to be smug. “I think you should have more faith in me than that. I’m not just gonna flip sides for no reason.”

“But that’s just it, princess. I do have faith in you. I believe that you are capable of much more than you realize. You have the power to change other people.”

W-what? How was she supposed to respond to that? It almost read like a compliment, but she knew that he had to have some sort of ulterior motive behind it. “Y-yeah, well… I’m going to stop you! I don’t care what it takes.”

His booming laughter echoed around them. “Ah, of course. In that case, I look forward to the day we meet again, princess.” Toffee looked up into the darkened sky for a moment, and then back down at Star. He opened his mouth, and a single, two-syllable word left his throat. “Goodbye.”

He started to rise into the sky, oozing further and further away. “No, no NO NO!” Star struggled to keep her balance, but was ultimately thrown off of him and was sent cascading down into an ocean of sickly green magic that swallowed her whole.

Star breached the surface mere seconds later, flailing her arms and turning her head back and forth in a panicked state. Only when she saw that she was alone did her heart stop pounding so violently in her chest. The magic had erupted into waves, crashing back and forth. She struggled against the sludge, but she was unable to stop herself from getting pushed under a couple of times. Frantically, she looked around, hoping to find something off in the distance, something to give her an idea of what to do next.

Without warning, her cheek marks began to glow a soft golden color. “What..?” All around her, small pieces of uncorrupted magic were glowing as well, easy to see in the plane of darkness. But they were fading out of existence fast, succumbing to corruption.

The princess started to panic. She tried to swim over to the nearest blob of light magic, but it disappeared right before she could grab it. “No, wait!!” Every attempt that followed was increasingly futile. Frustrated tears began to pool in her eyes. Her cheek marks kept flickering in and out, making the scattered uncorrupted magic even harder to spot.

A particularly strong wave grabbed ahold of her and shoved her head under the surface. She kicked her legs furiously and bobbed back above the waves, breaking into a fit of coughing. Again, her cheek marks glowed. She didn’t understand why—as far as she could see, there wasn’t any uncorrupted magic on the surface anymore. She’d wasted her one chance.

But far, far below, there was her beacon of hope. A piece of magic shimmered from its home in the depths. Without a second thought, Star gasped for air and dove under the surface, pedaling her way towards it. There was so much distance between it and her, but naïvely, she let herself pretend that there wasn’t any at all. It was just her and this scrap of magic. That was all that mattered anymore. Just a little farther!

And then it was gone.

She could feel herself breaking down. Her energy sapped from her body and her movements slowed. She instinctively breathed in and was only met with the suffocating presence of the corrupted ocean invading her mouth, stealing the air out of her lungs. The fear that had been plaguing the back of her mind took over full force in those last few seconds of consciousness. There was absolutely nothing she could do. Never had she ever felt so hopelessly lost.

✧·ﾟ: *·ﾟ✧

“Star!”

The pitter-pattering of feet across the ground echoed all around her head. A bright white hallway extended infinitely in front of her.

She started giggling hysterically. “Wait up!”

“Come on! You’re gonna miss it!”

“Miss what?”

“You’re never gonna know if you don’t hurry up!”

Her eyes blinked slowly, and when they opened again, there was only darkness in front of her. Was she blindfolded?

“I can’t see, this isn’t fair!”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Mhm...”

“Oh come on, don’t pout like that.”

“Well, I need someone to help me so I don’t accidentally trip and die.”

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Oh, come on, Tom, she’s right.”

She smirked. It felt good to hear that every once in a while.

“Okay, fine! Fine.” Someone took hold of her left hand. “You just better keep up, then.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Not long after, someone was holding her right hand as well. They all took off into a wild sprint, thundering through the field.

“Come on, Star!”

“Slow down!” She huffed out, exasperated. “Gosh, what’s the big hurry?”

“Star!”

Her name bounced off of the walls and ceiling, assailing from every known direction. She blinked repeatedly and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts—until finally, some piece of reality snapped back into place.

“Hey, Star!”

Her eyes finally opened to a world of bright clashing colors, swimming around in the sky. There was a distinct voice coming from in front of her.

“Does this, uh, need salt?”

Glossaryck? Why is he here? She wondered about it, but ultimately was in too delusional of a state to come to a reasonable conclusion. Wait—did he have a spoon? Why?

Apparently, her unresponsiveness warranted being poked repeatedly with said spoon. “Hey,” he said alongside each additional jab. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Star.”

It was annoying, she decided. “Oh, knock it off!” She swatted at the spoon in his hand, but completely missed due to her still skewed perception. She managed to sit upright, but not before Glossaryck shoved the spoon into her mouth.

“Less salt? More salt?”

Offended, she spat out the spoon and shoved it back into his hands. No amount of salt was going to save… well, whatever that big, bubbling pot of stuff was supposed to be. “Ugh, what is wrong with you?!” She pushed herself off of the ground and dusted herself off. “What's going on here? Where am I?”

“I have no idea. I doubt this place gets very many visitors. I mean, look at the place! It’s in disrepair, no one even dusts. Some people should never be hosts, I tell you—“

"Oh no,” she managed to gasp out. There were only so many places she could assume this to be, and well, with what had just happened… “I’m dead. I'm totally dead. I died!”

Glossaryck sighed, shaking his head. “Well, if you're dead, then I'm dead. And if you're calling me dead, I find it... well, I find it a little insulting, frankly.”

“Oh, no. I am totally dead.” There were so many confusing factors at play that she hardly could wrap her head around any of it. “And I'm stuck here…with you.” This was not her ideal purgatory by any means…

“Uh-huh. Again. A little insulting.”

Why do I have to be stuck here with him, of all people?! “You betrayed me!”

“I'm sorry it seemed that way,” Glossaryck murmured, returning to the side of the soup pot. “Can we get beyond this and just enjoy our time here together in... wherever we are?”

“Do you really think I'm gonna stay here with you and eat your dumb magic soup? Toffee is out there doing who knows what!”

“Star, what’s out there doesn’t really matter to you right now, does it?”

“But it’s still my problem! I chose to go into the wand, I wanted to deal with him myself! Okay, yeah, maybe my mom tried to stop me, but it’s too late to change anything. I’m here now.”

“Well, why didn’t you listen to your mother, then?”

“What are you—ugh, you’re just like everyone else!” Star snapped, turning away from him and crossing her arms indignantly. It seemed like she could never escape this spiel, but she certainly did not need to hear it right now, and from Glossaryck, no less.

“And everyone else is… who, exactly?”

“The ‘everyone’ who thinks that I’m incapable of doing anything for myself!” She put on a petulant, imitating tone as she continued to fume, mimicking the many people her anger had stemmed from. “‘Uh oh, would’ja look at that! Star’s gone and messed everything up again! You were supposed to be watching her! You were supposed to be keeping her under control!’”

“A straw man often enough does nothing to support your argument, Star,” Glossaryck said rather simply, not so much as flinching at her enraged display.

She ignored him. As far as she was concerned, she was just venting at an emotionless brick wall—a mirror, even. Something that was only there to bounce back all the terrible things she believed people thought of her. “I know I’m careless, reckless! I’m a joke! But is it really that hard to understand what I tried to do? I’m so sick of being monitored like a child! For once, I just wanted to clean up my own mess. I did this—“ she gestured to the pocket of space around them—“and I brought Toffee into the wand. I... I just wanted to end everything. I just…”

Her knees suddenly felt very, very weak. Silently, she cursed herself for not being able to stay angry. But she never was very good at that, was she? No, if there ever was a moment where she felt overwhelmed, she’d fall to her knees, cry, and wait for someone to come rescue her, to make all the bad things go away. Then she could pretend to be prepared for the next time, until another obstacle came along and knocked her fragile self down again.

At this point, she was only arguing with herself. “I am a child,” she mumbled under her breath. “Just an impulsive, destructive little child.” I really messed up this time, didn’t I? “I-I just wanted to prove that I can do this,” she cried out, tears already pooling in her eyes. Her hands came up to cover her face. “I thought that I could fix everything, but… I just made everything so much worse.”

“Star,” Glossaryck spoke up, his voice surprisingly sympathetic. “You tried. That’s all we can really do, isn’t it?”

“I tried,” she repeated. “But I messed up. Really, really bad. I-I don’t know what to do…”

“Sometimes, you don’t know anything. There’s quite a lot that I don’t know, even.” He hovered down to the ground to be at eye level with the young princess. “But you can’t let it scare you. If you’re scared, you’ll never start trying to learn why.”

She was shuddering now, crying. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. “I’m really, really scared, Glossaryck.”

“Of what?”

“I-I don’t know! I don’t know anymore.”

“Well, then, how about this? How about you try to figure out what you’re not scared of, and go from there?”

“But I don’t know-“

“Oh, come on, now, you can’t be afraid of everything.”

“Maybe I am!” was her childish retort, before she curled further in on herself.

“You aren’t going to get anywhere if you just sit here, on the floor. Do you really just want to hide behind my soup pot and not come out until you know everything is going to turn out okay?”

She sniffled. “W-well, no… I don’t want anything to do with your dumb soup.”

“There you go. You aren’t afraid of soup. That’s one thing off the list.”

The absurdity of that statement managed to get a solemn giggle out of her. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, and the floor. Obviously, you aren’t afraid of the floor.”

“Glossaryck, this is silly.”

“Well, evidently it’s working. There are a lot of things you aren’t afraid of. You just don’t realize it.”

“Duh,” she laughed, wiping at the tear streaks on her face with the palm of her hand. “I’m not afraid of you, or the air, or—“ she gestured at the pot—“or whatever weird ingredients are in that soup.”

“If that’s so easy, then why don’t you know what you’re afraid of?”

For a moment, she thought about it. “I guess… I’m really afraid of dying. And being stuck here, forever. Being alone... and not knowing what’s out there.” The blip in space seemed to extend infinitely in every direction she looked.

“Good, good.” He nodded his approval, and a sincere smile appeared on his face—something that happened very scarcely. “That’s a good start."

“Okay, are you done interrogating me now?”

“I mean, you aren’t done yet. You still need to think about if you’re willing to act on one of those things.”

Her eyes fell on the horizon yet again as she thought about it.

“Just what are you going to do, Star Butterfly?”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Glossaryck interlace his fingers. He was very clearly waiting for an answer of some kind. What exactly, she wasn’t all that sure.

“Well, I... I guess I’m gonna go see what else is here. Wherever here really is. Maybe...” she stood up quickly, looking out into the unknown. An ocean of colors swam and bled into an indistinguishable horizon, reaching out forever into the distance. “Maybe there’s something in another part of the wand that can help us get out of here. Well… assuming that we are in the wand, and not in some weird type of after-death purgatory.” She subconsciously crossed her fingers. I really hope it’s the first one…

As she left, Glossaryck watched silently. Not a single emotion crossed his face. Only when she had disappeared did he shake his head, carrying a quiet chuckle under his breath.

“It’s for her greater good,” he said. He returned to and stared down into the soup pot intently. An ambivalent smile formed on his face. “For her greater good.”

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #star butterfly #glossaryck #motherverse #tbwlhw #immersive

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