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nightowl33art · 3 months ago

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Old recording found.

Since I'm meeting my new therapist tomorrow, I decided to sort my evidence and update anything important. While looking through voice recordings, I found a nearly 23 minute long monologue from Dionysus on August 23, 2023. I listened to the whole thing. Couldn't find it in written form anywhere so I assume he said it all on the spot. I feel bad. You can really hear the pain in his voice. He sounded awful. I do not remember this recording, nor do I remember what upset him so bad. It appears though that this was around his first fronting session after figuring out he was his own. I've decided to transcribe it because it hits hard. Mostly accurate.

"I've encountered a lot of terrifying things in my life. Some more terrific than others. Some things strike more fear into my heart than others. But none, I believe, are quite as terrifying as the man in my DNA. The thing that contributed to my very being... somehow a monster in my own house... at least once.

Growing up, I was scared. Home was a war zone and you weren't ever fully safe. Not when he was around. Not when he wanted you. Somehow.. somehow, he gained so much power, that he took the very essentials- the things that made you- the fundamentals of your very being, and he twisted it into an ugly mush. Now I'm stuck with that mush for my whole life.

I look at it. Sometimes I let it consume me, and I'm scared when it does. I'm consumed by the fear. The one swift motion, and my entire body tenses up. I'm scared once again. Then I forget it all. I forget it happens. I can't remember how I felt until it's too late, and the cycle repeats. I feel the same terror over and over. It never quite sticks.

I'm always fearing him. I'm always a bit scared. More importantly, because of the way he twisted my entire life into an ugly mess- the way he made my beliefs built on lies, deception, manipulation at every corner.

I sit here with hatred. A seething, burning hatred. So much that it'll burn every bit of my being. A fire so big, soul-raging, that I don't know what to do with it. And so it splits, into someone else, in a different part of the mind. That rage can be its own thing. It doesn't have to be anyone else.

I wonder where you'll end up some years from now. Where will you be when you get older? What do you want to do when you grow up? Lord I never knew. Until I did. The very purpose of my life came to me one night. I don't know where, or when, or why exactly, but I knew I was to be an entertainer. I would make everyone happy. And I would myself happy doing just that. It didn't matter the rhyme, the reason, the meaning, the medium, or necessarily even the time. I just knew that I would.

I'm afraid. Is it wrong to be afraid? Shadows.. shadows aren't terrifying at all. Little things you used to fear, thinking ghosts were real and monsters lurked out there. None of them could compare... to the monster at home. It makes you wonder. How such a person can even exist. How can such a cruel man be real? I can't exactly remember the last time I felt this way. I just know I have. And at this point, I'm tired. We're all very tired and we want it to stop. It hurts our head. It hurts our body. We're anxious.

I saw him complaining to me, about her, but I could feel my body, the anxiety coursing through. I could feel my heart pick up. I could tell I needed to breathe more air. But I couldn't break until he was gone. So I stare at him, agreeable, manageable, quiet, frowning, maybe a little depressed sounding. But whatever you want, whatever you say, just to get him out. It feels nice when he leaves. You feel free again, you can breathe again, when he exits out that door. And you can safely lock it behind him.

What did I do? I didn't do anything to deserve this pain, this torment. Yet I live in anguish. This much he says and he doesn't... this is torture. This is real life and it's a waking nightmare with him around. This is scarier than anything I think I could dream up. Just about anything.

I think one of the only things that could be scarier than this, is losing absolutely everything I have to him. And I'd have to relinquish control, what little control I have over my own life right now, to him. I don't want to be his puppet. I don't want to lose what I have. I might not have all the [?], but I have something. I've gotten a taste of freedom. It tasted pretty good. I don't wanna go numb and empty. I don't wanna feel dead in there anymore. I'm tired of feeling helpless, alone in a sense, trapped in this maze, this prison, forever. I want to get out so badly. I want to escape. It's all so close and yet so far away.

But I can get there. Cause as much as he calls me frail and weak, I'm a lot stronger than he thinks. I'm a lot tougher than he thinks I am.

It's true, I don't know everything. But neither does he. And I doubt that he knows everything. He acts like he knows best. He's a weathered, traveled, experienced man who knows exactly what makes the world go round, what makes it work. But I've spoken to other people, I've seen things. I don't think that's quite how it works. I just have to learn not to be afraid of what's out there. To step out and take that dive. Cause if I get too scared, if I clamp up, I'm gonna be stuck with him. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he'll be controlling me, just as he's always wanted to do.

I don't get it. I don't get what's with him. It's probably the narcissism, if I'm honest. So full of himself, so manipulative, he doesn't care. He can't see. And he says he cares... he says he does all this stuff because he loves us... Why would you threaten to kick your kid out if you loved them?

I don't know what love is. I sure as hell know it's not that- it can't be that. Love is real care, understanding. You might not know how someone ticks exactly, but you'll at least try to learn. You care about their well being, but you don't do it on a superficial level.

You never took the time to get to know us. And now, even when you try, you won't get in. Cause we've learned, we know better by now. We don't trust you, we don't like you, we don't love you, but that's your own fault.

I don't know when I'll get out of here, but I know I will. Cause that's what I've been aiming for ever since I've figured it out. This dream, it ain't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be in a normal, loving family.

I don't know. I don't know if I wanna think my father loves me for real, as much as it is that he loves the idea of what I could be. Cause if I'm not a trophy, if I ain't fit to be a bragging right, what good am I? Instead we disappoint, we disgust, we make him sad. And I just don't CARE if you're sad, I don't care if you're disappointed. I've grown past that at this point. It used to hurt hearing those things but I got over it. Cause I figured it out. It's not worth it. It doesn't matter what you want, it don't matter what you like.

I'm not saying I'm gonna go out there, get a tattoo, gamble my savings away. Although it sure would be funny, gambling all his money for me away after he dies. I know better. I don't plan on any of that. But his way doesn't have to be the right way. Doesn't have to be the only way. I know a lot of things are obscured, and I can't see everything completely. A lot of this looks invisible to me because of the way I was raised. But I know there are more ways than one. I know there's other ways to live life. They aren't in his book.

I wanna explore. I wanna go out on my own. I don't wanna be tied down by some madman who only really thinks of himself. He says it's for our good, he says it's cause he loves us. I don't understand how love can twist you so horribly. You're just a narcissist and you're just selfish. If you ain't a narcissist, you're awful narcissistic-like. And it hurts and I wish you'd see how much it hurts. How draining it is to be nearby you. How painful it is, in a sense, to be you.

I didn't ask to be born. And yet because I am born, I have to suffer the consequences of it. I have to live a life of threats and fear, because half of my DNA is his. And he's too stupidly stubborn and "loving" to let us go. To kick us out, to disown us all already. He's so stupid. He doesn't realize... he thinks he's the smartest guy in the world. Makes my head spin.

I don't understand everything. I don't know if I ever will understand. The brain wants to rationalize, but... there isn't much to rationalize about here. He's just... so into himself. That's just how it is. And I'm left alone with my thoughts. The other men that aren't quite me. We're here for each other. At least we're not him.

Cause one day he's gonna get what's coming to him. He's gonna be left in the dust. And maybe, maybe just maybe, I'll never have to speak to him again. That'll be a great, joyous day. No matter how it goes, I'm gonna celebrate that goddamn event. Whether it's big and loud, or quiet. Whether I'm scared from it, or I'm empowered, either way: I'm free. And I can breathe. And finally... I can heal. The nightmare has ended. The pain, the torment, will go away.

It's just a matter of time and determination. Finding the right opportunities to make a move. And he won't know till it's too late. And his pawn will be gone. I'm gonna learn, I'm gonna make my mistakes, I'm gonna get my hands dirty. But it's all gonna be me. No one else can influence those decisions. If we wanna do what we wanna do, then we're gonna do it.

Perhaps I'll celebrate when you keel over. Life will be better when we're out of your picture. Cause we can't move you, but we can certainly get around you. You try to block the exist door. You try to cover it in curtains and couches. You try to take that very thing away from us. There's always another way around. And you can't stop me from getting my justice. And if all that is is getting out of here, then by golly, let it be. This is not the end. I will get out of here. And when I do, life's gonna be lovely, I just know it."

#nightramble #text #personal #Flick #Dionysus #Dion #Technically this is a Dion post.#This is what it feels like. This encapsulates my experience in a way I can't always say.

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muchadoaboutnot · 4 months ago

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⚔️

The walk up the dungeon stairs should have been without any difficulty, other than it was a long walk back up to the rest of Skyhold. Point in case Leto notices halfway up the way Samson started to lag. His stride getting slower and she could hear him breathing a bit heavier.

"Your muscles have atrophied down here." She states to his back, her own steps slow and she idly places her palm on the stone wall, tracing her fingers up the grooves as she waits for him.

There's a mumbling sound that comes from him, she can't make out the words at first before he looks over his shoulder at her. "Yeah. That happens when you're stuck in a cell." His tone is dry but his eyes show something mean.

Leto simply shrugs, yet on the inside, she feels a sort of pity for him. She can't imagine being stuck in a cell, even when she lived in LowTown and had a tiny bedroom she could at least leave the house but he could do little but sit and rot. She shakes her thoughts because now it was to be different. Still, at the slow pace he sets now she gets curious, something that has gotten her into a lot of trouble.

"So... How tall are you?" She casually asks Samson now, deciding to chat while he struggles.

That amuses him however and he snorts, "I don't know, around 6'2" thereabouts? Why?"

Humming, Leto nods but not that he can see. "I knew it, you're taller than Cullen by 1 inch."

Now that comment actually makes Samson laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally gets to him and he's shaking his head and wonders what he's getting himself into.

The next question however is more serious, because Leto should have done this back when he was in the cell, not in the middle of the staircase.

"Can you cast dispel?"

Now that stops Samson in his tracks, one of his hands is placed on the stone wall for purchase and he half turns his body to look at her. Puzzlement is clear on his features but he doesn't say anything, because what he does is lift his one free hand and cast the spell.

It's familiar to him, being a Templar most of his life, although he never liked using it. He especially never used it when he became the Red Templar General, no need to. But for now, he does what she asks him but he can't imagine why.

Leto on the other hand opens her mouth to tell him to stop, because she watches almost in slow motion the way he raises his hand to cast it. And then he does. Instant she feels herself get knocked back, while light blinds her and her ears ring. She does note however the effects aren't as bad as they could be. She does however note... She's being held now.

After getting hit she almost stumbled down the stairs until Samson grabbed a hold of her.

She thinks it's very dramatic and unnecessary because she's humiliated immediately. This is the man she's supposed to be watching over, not almost falling down the stairs and braining herself. Even worse, she said his muscles had atrophied yet the way his arm holds her around her waist is so solid and her feelings go straight to a bodice ripper novel.

"Forgot you're a mage..." His voice is gravelly and he sounds apologetic in her ear. And for a few seconds, Leto and him sort of just look at each other before rage shows up on her face. Instantly she shoves him in the chest to get away from him and he easily enough lets her go and raises his arms up in a placating manner. "What in the Maker's name is wrong with you?!" Leto isn't shrill, but she's definitely upset. "Why would you just cast it so casually?"

Now however Samson drops his hands to his sides and gives her a nasty look, as if she's the dumb one. "Wot? You literally told me to cast it? You said: Can you cast Dispel? So that's exactly what I did,I cast it."

Reeling at him, Leto can't believe he took it as her telling him to cast it and not just asking if he can cast it still. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll be more specific next time, because what I mean was just asking if you can cast dispel still and clearly you can." She grinds the words out between her teeth.

"You're welcome." Is the only response she gets from Samson however, he's done with the conversation and turns and starts to walk back up the stairs.

This was going very good so far.

Therefore Leto, tired of him and not even on the first level of Skyhold with him, starts to make her way up the stairs, however, she brushes past him. He lets out a growl and a 'watch it' but otherwise does nothing. Her own steps are faster and lighter, she makes it to the top and waits for him just outside the door.

Again. The worst part is how she replays how strong his grip was on her. Because it makes her blush.

Very bad.

Samson on the other hand still making his way up the stairs just feels tired already. Even if he had it in him to think about how Hawke felt in his arms, it last but just a second before his head pounds, his heart hammers, and his legs burn.

Anything pleasant does not last very long for him, either way he makes it to the top and joins her.

#i need to set the mood. the mood being touch starved #xo. peace i will stop your mouth #**mine #part III ;;

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sebstanns · 3 years ago

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You Know Me

Summary: You wonder if you did the right thing breaking up with Peter.

Warnings: Little bit of smut and fluff.

Peter Parker (NWH Andrew) x gender neutral reader.

"Hey there's Spiderman!" Your date, Rob exclaims, wide-eyed.

Shit. You knew it was a mistake getting a terrace table.

"Oh really." You murmur, hoping to sound disinterested, eyes stuck to your menu.

"Yeah, look, he just stopped that guy from getting mugged!"

"I'm fine, thanks." You say, reaching for your wine.

"Seriously?" Rob asks, astonished. "No excitement at all?"

"I live in New York, I've seen Spiderman lots of times." You shrug. Plus I've seen him naked lots of times, your brain adds. No, not a good revelation on a first date.

"I'm going to go over and shake his hand." Rob announces, pushing away from the table and standing.

You grab his arm and pull him back down. "NO!"

He stares at you, shocked. "What the hell is your problem?"

The date ends soon after that.

You know exactly what your problem is, you muse later, when you're finally at home in your pj's. It had been six weeks since you and Peter had broken up and you still weren't sure you'd done the right thing.

You had grown tired of him standing you up, or being late all of the time. Granted, he usually had a valid excuse - the superhero thing - but you wanted more. It became clear that you hadn't realised what you were getting into.

The problem is that you miss him terribly - his humour, gentleness and kindness. Rob was perfectly nice but something was missing, even before Spiderman had (unintentionally) crashed the date. The problem is, he isn't Peter.

Later that evening, you're engrossed in a serial killer documentary, when there's a sharp tap at the widow. You squeal in fright and actually jump on the sofa. It's him, Peter, maskless and motioning you to let him in.

"Shit." You mutter, getting up.

"Hi." Peter smiles, as you open the window and your heart aches a little.

"What are you doing here?" You swallow, automatically stepping back to let him in.

He practically falls inside, steadying himself against the wall. "Who is he?" Peter asks, breathlessly.

"What? Who? Are you alright?"

"The guy you were with tonight. I saw you, on the terrace." He says quietly, his brown eyes sad.

"Oh. His name's Rob. Not that it's any of your business." You say, as sharply as you can.

"Were you on a date?"

"Again, none of your business. You should go, Peter." You murmur, trying to avoid his gaze.

"What's he like?"

You sigh, exasperated. "He's nice, okay? He's a nice guy."

Peter chuckles. "Boring you mean."

"There's nothing wrong with being nice, Peter. "

"Hey, I was nice to you." Peter winces as he limps over to the sofa.

"Just not reliable." You mutter. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah I just twisted my knee. I'll be fine in a sec." Peter says, massaging his leg.

You want to gather him in your arms like you used to, kiss the top of his head and make it all better.

You get him a glass of water and sit in the armchair.

"I didn't like it." He says, finally, still concentrating on his leg. "Seeing you with someone else."

"It's been six weeks, Peter." You say, softly.

"I know, believe me. I've counted every minute. I miss you. "

"What do you miss?" You scoff. "We could barely scrape a date together."

"Just you." He smiles, looking over. "Being with you, holding you. "

You feel yourself weakening. This was crazy, you were obviously both missing each other.

But you find a little strength from somewhere. "I need more."

Peter nods. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dropped by like this."

He gets up gingerly.

"At least let me get some ice." You offer, reluctant to see him leave.

"I'll be fine." He says with a crooked smile, opening the window. "You know me."

* * * *

The rest of the week is a write off, you can't concentrate on anything for thinking about Peter. You find yourself constantly looking at the sky in the hopes of spotting him.

Seeing him, being in his company again, had reignited all sorts of feelings. Had you been too hasty in ending it? Yes, your schedules were somewhat....incompatible but the nights he would come to you almost made the lack of social interaction worth it.

Sometimes he just wanted comfort after a tough night, to be held and cuddled.

Other nights he wanted something else, and he'd kiss you until your lips felt swollen, touch you until you couldn't take it any longer and he'd slip inside you like you were made for him. If Peter felt particularly frustrated he'd be a little rougher with you, turning you over and slamming into you as you gripped the headboard. Afterwards he'd pull you to his chest, kiss you tenderly and murmur sweetness into your ear.

So you think that you're dreaming a few nights later when you hear the bedroom window slide open. It's still relatively early, you've only just dropped off. Alarmed, you gasp and sit up. It's Peter.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to see you again." He says softly.

"It's okay." You murmur, pushing the covers back so he can get in.

His body is like a furnace as usual. Without saying anything, you wrap arms around each other, Peter lays his head on your chest and you stroke his hair until you both fall asleep.

You wake up positions reversed, and you're snuggled into his chest.

"Hey." Peter murmurs as you lift your head.

"Hey. Are you okay?" You ask, looking at him.

"I am now." He sighs, touching your face. "Look, I know that I wasn't the best boyfriend-"

"Shhh." You hush him with a kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Peter moans into your mouth and pulls you on top of him.

"Are you sure?" He asks, hoarsely.

You answer with another kiss.

#peter parker x gender neutral reader #peter parker x gn!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #andrew garfield

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bumblesimagines · 3 years ago

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Forgotten Fairytale

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

I'm not afraid of this series not becoming as well loved as Green Thumb and I don't expect it to be popular. I've had the idea stuck in my head for a while and I'm getting it all out.

You looked over the artifacts the school had stored. You gave a small scoff, shaking your head as you noticed things that didn’t belong in a school.

“They call us thieves and hoarders yet half this shit was stolen off a corpse.” You muttered, stopping in front of a glass case protecting a sword.

“I wouldn’t suggest stealing that. It’ll be obvious.” You turned towards the redhead, sighing and tilting your head as she walked towards you.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” You looked back at the sword, eyes raking over it.

“You know what this is?” You asked. Hope stood beside you, looking down at the sword. She shook her head, pursing her lips slightly.

“A man named Lord Jameson Wraith owned this sword. He was… a hunter of sorts and specialized in killing dragons. When he stabbed this through the chest of a dragon, the sword would light up and the dragon would burn from the inside. A gruesome, slow death. We were hunted like all others but it wasn’t just to protect humans. We were hunted for our meat, our teeth, and our scales. Humans declared war on us and when we fought back, we were erased from everyone's minds and deemed fairy tales where we continue to be killed by a so-called knight.” You explained, running your finger over the glass.

“Some dragons were able to survive Malivore but as soon as they shifted… They were taken. They disappeared and left no trace.” You turned to look at Hope. The redhead stayed silent, a frown etched on her face.

“I’m sorry you lost your father. We’re working on finding Malivore and when we do, there’s a chance you’ll be able to see your father again.” Hope said softly, gaze still trained on the sword.

“Where’s your mother? Alaric mentioned she was a vampire.”

“I was never able to meet her but.. I believe she’s dead.” You walked around the case, looking back up at Hope. You locked eyes with her, hearing her clear her throat.

“I’m sure she would’ve wanted to be in your life.” Hope offered a small smile, nails gently tapping against the case.

“Are you being nice to me cause you need to find out more about me?” You asked, head tilting. Hope cocked a brow, eyes rolling as she turned away from you.

“Alaric really doesn’t trust me, does he?”

“He trusts you more than I do, that’s for sure. It’s just too much of a coincidence for you, a dragon, to show up when we’re dealing with monster after monster. If it weren’t for Alaric, I would’ve already done a spell on you.” Hope said as she walked around the room, features hard and serious.

“A little witch spell wouldn’t work on me. You haven’t been trained to deal with dragons. If I was really one of those monsters, why didn’t I burn the building down and search for whatever it is that you have?” You asked curiously. Hope didn’t answer, thinking for a moment.

“Because you’d need to know if it was hidden.”

“Alaric asked if I felt a pull to this place. I suppose that means I would feel a pull towards the artifact, right?” You slowly walked towards her, a soft chuckle leaving you.

“You can kick and scream all you want, Red. I’m here to stay, whether you like it or not.” You reached out, twirling a strand of her red hair around your finger. Hope grabbed your wrist, pushing your hand away.

“You’re up to something and I’m gonna figure out what it is.” Hope sneered, eyes narrowed. She turned around, walking towards the doors. She almost bumped into a man on her way out, quietly apologizing before moving past him. The man entered the room, clasping his hands together.

“I’m Dorian Williams, the liberian and occasional substitute teacher.” Dorian introduced himself, finding a table and taking a seat. He motioned for you to sit across from him. You did so, taking a seat and crossing your arms as you eyed him.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, (Y/N). I do have some suspicions that you might be after the artifact but.. You’re a kid. A kid who lost their father and wants answers. I’m not here to interrogate you about your intentions.” Dorian explained, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed.

“Do the other students know what I am?”

“News spread like wildfire here, especially amongst the students so.. Yes, most likely. I can assure you that you’ll be treated like any other student-”

“So, Hope goes around telling every student she’s gonna figure out what they’re up to? No wonder she’s not popular.” Dorian let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“I promise Hope isn’t always like that. The monster problem we’ve been having has everyone on edge. Do.. Do you know anything about Malivore?” Dorian asked, sitting up and leaning forward.

“I thought you weren’t gonna interrogate me.” You tilted your head, brow cocked. Dorian hummed softly, nodding.

“Alright, we can talk about something else. The neck is a dragon's soft spot, right?”

“Depends.” You answered, licking your lips as you reached up to touch your necklace.

“If a dragon is older and stronger, a hit to the neck isn’t gonna hurt them much. It might piss them off and they could lose their ability to speak or even stop them from breathing fire cause it’ll hurt to do so. We can still kill someone by stepping on them or snacking on them. We were on the top of the fucking food chain and humans just couldn’t deal with that.”

“I’m not your enemy, (Y/N). I want to believe I can trust you. You’re a child and like all children, you need guidance. I see a lot of rage built up inside you. I can tell from the way you interacted with Hope and from what I heard. Landon and Rafael aren’t your enemies. They’re new and they have a rough past. The first dragon they met wanted to burn them into a pile of ashes so.. I’d say they’re being pretty welcoming.” Dorian held a soft yet stern gaze. It was obvious that he sympathized with you but at the same time, he wasn’t gonna deal with an attitude.

“Tell me about your father. What was he like?” Dorian asked softly. Your gaze dropped to the table, fingers squeezing around the key.

“I’d appreciate it if everyone could stop talking about him as if he’s dead.” You breathed out, standing up abruptly as your eyes began to sting from tears.

“I don’t need to be welcomed into this school. I’ve been to high school before, I’m not some little kid whose hand needs to be held.” You walked out of the room, heading back to your dorm room. You entered the dorm, shutting the door behind you. You sniffled softly, walking towards the window and opening it. You stepped out, taking a seat on the roof. You brought your knees up to your chest, feeling the wind gently hitting your face.

“The key to food is passion, remember that (Y/N).”

“I thought it was seasoning.” You grinned as you watched your father cook. He hummed, nodding with a chuckle.

“It is but food from a chef who feels no passion for it will taste bland and bitter. It’s the same with any other job. If you hate it, it’ll show and you’ll only hurt yourself. That’s why I always tell you to look for things you’re interested in.” (F/N) said, handing you a wooden spoon so you could help with stirring the soup.

“What was mom passionate about?”

“Your mother was.. She was a hurricane.” He began, sighing deeply. “She destroyed everything in her path and took down anyone in her way. Not many people have fond memories of her but I saw the good in her. I didn’t love her romantically but I considered her a good friend of mine. I’ll always be grateful to her for giving me the best gift a man could ever have.” You smiled widely, chuckling softly and rolling your eyes. (F/N) smiled softly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“No treasure could ever compare to you.”

You bit your bottom lip, letting out a shaky sigh. You weren't used to being alone. Your father had always been there to back you up, to support you, and to provide comfort when you needed it.

“Christ, pull yourself together. You come from dragons and a psycho vampire.” You mumbled, carefully going back inside. You picked up the phone, turning it on and waiting for it to power on completely. You responded to a text, watching a call pop up. You clicked the green button and held the phone up to your ear.

“I thought you said it was stupid to be in contact.” You took a seat on the bed.

“Yeah, well, I was expecting you to be back by now. You do know your fathers return lies in your hands, right? Only I can help you get him back but I’ll only do that if you give me what I need.”

“I have a plan-”

“Speed up that plan before I change my mind, (Y/N). While you were on your way to the school, I bumped into some of your new friends. They were a redhead and an older man. I believe the girl went by the name Jessica but I doubt it was her real name.” You let out a deep sigh, head tilting upwards. Hope Mikaelson was gonna be a real pain in the ass.

“Yeah, I’ve met the redhead.” You breathed out, dropping your head and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I just need you to relax, Ryan. I’ve got it handled but I really don’t need you fucking things up for me. You just keep up your end of the deal and I’ll keep up mine. You might be able to save my father but I can also keep you from helping yours.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact. Don’t bother me again unless it’s an emergency.” You pulled the phone away from your ear despite Ryan continuing to talk. You hung up and tossed the phone to the side, burying your face in your hands.

“Am I paying for my mothers crimes?” You whispered. You flinched when you heard two knocks on the door, standing up and approaching it. You opened the door, staring at Josie.

“What do you want, baby face?” You asked with a frown, looking down at the ice cream tub in her hands. Josie’s brows furrowed at the nickname but she ignored it, choosing to raise the tub.

“I.. I kind of eavesdropped on you and Dorian and saw you rush out. Ice cream always makes me feel better when I’m feeling down, so I brought you some.” Josie shrugged lightly. You blinked, opening your mouth but nothing came out.

“If you don’t like ice cream then I could see if-”

“Thanks.” You cut her off, watching her relax and give a small smile. Josie nodded, perking up when you stepped aside so she could enter. Josie looked around the room, humming.

“If you want, we could go shopping for some decorations tomorrow after school.” Josie said, moving one hand under her skirt as she sat down. You nodded, taking a seat beside her and subtly turning the phone off. Josie opened the lid of the tub, handing you a spoon and giving a small shy smile.

“Well, Welcome to Salvatore School. I’m pretty sure dad is still figuring out your class schedule.”

“Dad?”

“Oh, uhm, the headmaster is my dad.” Josie shrugged, digging her spoon into the ice cream. Your brows raised, a small smile spreading across your face.

“Really? You look nothing like him.. Which is a big compliment.” You grinned as Josie let out a soft giggle. Things were definitely starting to look up.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #legacies x reader #legacies x you #legacies #legacies x y/n #legacies x male reader #hope mikaelson #josie saltzman #lizzie saltzman #milton greasley #alaric saltzman #landon kirby #rafael waithe

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years ago

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❝𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞❞ ─ 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

hey, it's not like you ever tried to stay . .

❥ content ; gn reader, angst, dark themes, yandere themes, toxic relationship

❥ warnings ; sxlf hxrm & mxtilation, swearing, verbal abuse, manipulation, slight nxdity lol

❥ synopsis ; all you wanted was his attention. and by the gods, you were going to get his attention by any means.

❥ a/n ; first mello fic (: i've been wanting to write something dark for a while and ig i finally got the opportunity lol. i thought i got out of my death note stage but i'm back, so please don't be afraid to send requests or ask to be added to my nonexistent taglist! alsoo while this oneshot does include s/h, i am in no way glorifying or romanticizing it!!! but i do tend to write angsty and dark fics. again, this is a work of fiction and i don't intend for anyone to take this too seriously and let this influence them.

The loud crash of a glass echoed throughout the room as a vase went flying through the air and collided with the wall, just a few feet from where you were standing.

You didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't react. You were used to Mello's fits of rage by now, months into your relationship. If you could even call it that, at this point.

You knew Mello wouldn't dare lay a finger on you; if he did, he'd cut off his own hands and have live with the guilt forever, knowing he brought you harm. Which is why you didn't react.

However, he didn't seem to have a problem when it was only verbal.

"I don't fucking get you!" Mello spat harshly and continued to rant, "Why did you think that was okay?! Did you once consider how I felt?! I was worried sick that some asshole hurt you but you come back a day later and tell me you were at some boy's house!"

You only scoff, leaning against the wall in a relaxed manner, eyeing the remaining shards of the vase carefully. Just like Mello, you were incredibly stubborn.

"Answer me, Y/N!"

"Okay, Mihael," you state cooly, using Mello's legal name and causing him to listen more intently. "First of all, I don't know what you expected me to do when you invited your weird mafia 'friends' over while I was trying to sleep. Second, he's not 'some boy', his name is Y/F/N and he's one of a few people I can trust. I don't know what you think of me."

"You could've gotten a hotel room, that's what!"

"With what money, Mihael?! What fucking money? You forced me to quit my job and then practically lock me up in this hell hole that I can't even call 'home' anymore!"

Mello huffed. "Pfft, you should be grateful. I've kept you safe all this time, away from the dangers of the world. You're alive because of me. Me. You're mine."

"Yeah, some fucking life, right?"

"I provide for you, I protect you from the monsters out in the world, but you still decide to go and whore yourself out to your little 'friend'," Mello sneered, his sharp voice dripping with venom.

You stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. All words, all arguments and nasty retorts expiring on your lips.

"I.." You start, but laugh pitifully. "I don't even know what you're saying. I don't know if you even know what you're saying. Honestly, Mello, just when I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore, you start spewing complete and utter bullshit out of your mouth." Mello's silence only egged you on. "It's no wonder Near always came in first place." Aaand there it was. You snapped.

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. Mello's eyes widened in anger at the mention of Near, reminding him of his inferiority.

In a completely different situation where he wasn't on the receiving end, Mello would be smiling proudly, listening to your clever retorts and comebacks. You've always been as stubborn and hot headed as him, and he really liked that about you, fuck that "opposites attract" bullshit. (I ACC LOVE THAT TROPE LOL IM SORRY) However, considering you were both extremely toxic people, it was far from entertaining when it was you who got in a fight with the other.

You didn't stop, though. If he was gonna play that who-could-be-more-toxic game, you weren't gonna back down.

"I don't know if it was the explosion or you've really always been that stupid, but you need to get the fuck over yourself and stop throwing tantrums when you find out that I have a life, too, and I have friends. Friends who actually give a damn."

You stare down each other in silence, a heavy tension hanging in the air. Still, after a few moments, Mello didn't make any effort to speak or react, other than walking out of the room.

Days, weeks went by. Mello hasn't spoken a word to you. Hasn't even looked in your direction when you passed each other or walked into the same room. You didn't exist anymore, and it worried you.

Mello was never like this. Within a few days or even hours after an argument, you would easily kiss and make up. Had you gone too far this time?

Besides the fact that Mello was intentionally giving you the cold shoulder, he was also busy with work, and was out of the house from midnight to early afternoon. During that time, you would stay at home and carry out your every day mundane tasks and chores.

Even now, you didn't seek comfort in your family or friends. You were either busy keeping the house clean, sleeping, or entertaining yourself on social media. But it was all a sad attempt to keep your mind occupied on anything else other than Mello.

And one day like any other where Mello was out doing whatever the hell mafia dudes do, you snapped. You decided you were sick of the silent treatment.

If Mello was gonna play dirty and ignore you, you were gonna give him something to react to.

Mello came home some time after sunset. Kicking off his boots as he walked in the front door, he immediately knew something was off. It was quiet - too quiet. Despite the fact that you were practically taking some sort of forced break after the argument, you acted the same. You went about your day and didn't bother acting shy or timid around Mello. You still hummed earworm pop songs to yourself or put on a podcast to fill the tense air. But now there was nothing. Just Mello, the walls, and the silence.

Mello cautiously walked around the house and searched for any signs of you, fearing the worst.

As he frantically looked around, he stopped abruptly at the sight of blood smeared onto the hallway wall.

Blood.

His heartbeat began to thump loudly in his ears.

Then he noticed more blood. And more, smeared up on the wall, and eventually a trail picked up. He followed the bloody trail as it lead him through the hallway and stopped outside of your shared bedroom that he hasn't been inside for weeks.

Mello shakily inhaled and braced himself for whatever gruesome scene he would walk into.

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it and letting himself in.

Soon as he did, he ceased all motions, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to process what his eyes were showing him.

There, you sat on the bed, nothing on but your underwear and one of Mello's shirts. On one hand, you loosely held a pocket knife. On the other, you had your sleeve rolled up, your inner arm facing Mello's direction.

Your doe eyes looked up from the floor and met Mello's panicked ones. He was finally looking at you again. Despite the gorey setting and the stinging in your arm, you smiled. You were real to him again.

Multiple cuts oozed blood and trickled down your arm, onto your now dirtied clothes and the once satin white sheets below you.

As Mello got closer, silently freaking out, he could now see that these weren't just cuts - you carved out words. Sentences, onto your arm.

Among the many bloody 'I love you's' and pleads, one word stuck out to him.

It was his name.

He felt sick. Distraught. Guilty. Afraid.

"Y/N," he choked out shakily.

His gaze trailed up your arm, your body, and fixated onto your seemingly innocent face. Your face was rested and gentle, your eyes still staring up at him with adoration and desperation. If it weren't for the blood that painted your whole body and surroundings red, he would have found comfort in your presence.

"I did this.." You ran your fingers along your fresh wounds, not once wincing or drawing back in discomfort. "For you."

You continued, a sick sweetness in your voice. "Jus' wanted to show you how much I love you.. You've been leaving me so lonely, Mello." You frowned. "It was only a matter of time before I had to do something. And now you're finally here.. And you won't leave me again."

#mello x reader #mello x y/n #mihael keehl #death note fanfiction #death note #death note mello #death note near #death note angst #angst prompts #angst dialogue prompts #angst #sh tw #tw s/h #yandere mello #mello yandere #death note yandere #death note oneshot #death note imagines #rattyoakenbitch

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sorryimananti-romantic · 3 years ago

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Mist | Choi San | Chapter 2

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 7.2k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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A few paranormally uneventful days passed. Seohyun hadn't exactly opened up to the group of boys that she was now able to call friends, but she was slowly getting there. It was hard not to smile when one of them cracked a silly joke, and harder not to laugh when they had a battle of wits.

She was slowly getting used to her new school. She was past the stage of being a new kid and the students in her class had stopped giving her those looks. She was unnoticed, and she loved it.

Today, like every other morning, Seohyun got ready for school, tying her hair in a half ponytail, peeking out of the window to check if she should wear her glasses or cap today. She had to hide her eyes somehow, they always betrayed her. She didn't want anyone to think she liked to stare into the space. But then she shrugged and tossed her glasses in the bag, wearing her cap as she went to the kitchen.

Her mother was a very busy woman and she liked to spend almost all her day in her office. She was rarely home even if she had a day off anyway. So Seohyun just made herself some coffee, munching on some cookies as she waited for the coffee to become cool enough to drink.

"I still don't get why you let the housemaid go," Jiwoo popped out of nowhere and twirled around the kitchen.

"Well, I didn't entirely let her 'go'. She still comes by on the weekends, you already know that."

"But still! What's wrong with having food everyday?" Jiwoo pushed her dark red hair back as she tsk-ed at Seohyun.

"For one, I wanted to learn to cook, and the food she made was always too much for just me. I always had to throw it out or give it to someone before it went bad. Mom's never home to eat anyway."

"I actually hate your mom, no offence," Jiwoo looked at her and Seohyun shook her head, "I mean, what kind of a mother is she?"

"A woman married to her work with an abnormal child, I kind of understand why she's like this," Seohyun muttered.

"Nah, you're not abnormal. You're gifted. And you don't appreciate it enough."

"No offence, unnie, but ghosts are the company I'd rather not have," Seohyun rinsed her cup and placed it on the rack, taking her school bag and locking the door.

"What's wrong with me?" Jiwoo asked.

"You're one of the better ones, but only because you had temporary amnesia before you died and you still don't know who exactly you are and why you're a ghost!" Seohyun snorted at the weirdness of all this.

"You think I'd ever be able to recall? Or just be stuck with you forever?" Jiwoo asked.

"I'd rather you try to move around and find out who you are instead of making me look like I talk to myself."

"Ah, you pain me, child. It's all because you have new friends now and don't care about me anymore. Right, catto?"

The black cat, which Seohyun hadn't noticed earlier, meowed in response.

"And, here comes the pretty one," Jiwoo grinned and Seohyun looked in her direction to find San coming their way.

"Pretty one? Seriously?" Seohyun shook her head.

"I mean, they're all pretty, but I like this kid more-"

"Hey," San gave her a smile as he meowed to the cat, who gladly jumped in San's arm when he put them forward.

"This little-" Seohyun stopped, and San laughed. "She never comes when I ask!"

"She likes me more, it seems," San rubbed her forehead and she purred, and they walked in comfortable silence to school the rest of the way.

They almost reached the gates of the school but something Seohyun saw from the corner of her eye made her stop in her tracks.

It was a ghost, yet it was something else. It wasn't someone who had died recently for sure. The man, the ghost if you could call it that, was bitter.

"You okay?" San asked, looking in the direction Seohyun was looking in. To him, it seemed she was looking at a wall.

"Yeah, I-I'm okay. Why don't you go ahead? I'll be right back. I should take her too," Seohyun picked the cat from San's hand, "We don't want her roaming around the school and getting scared, do we now?"

San raised a suspicious brow at her, but nodded as he reluctantly went in.

The man tried approaching Seohyun first, but she motioned him to follow her and went to the backside of the school, where surely there would be very few people walking by at this time.

"State your business," Seohyun said, and the man actually looked taken aback, if his eyes could display some emotion.

Truth be told, Seohyun was always scared dealing with men ghosts and older ghosts in general. Since ghosts could touch her, they were as much of a threat to her as humans. And these old ghosts, the ones with skin that looked grey, almost as if the ghost had started decomposing too, were usually not in their right mind.

"I have waited decades to find the mediator," the man's eyes gleamed rather wickedly.

"Mediator?" Seohyun asked. A rather fancy term for someone who could see the dead. "And why did you have to wait decades?"

"Let's say the mediator supposed to sort my death out met with rather... unfortunate circumstances," the man cleared his throat but his voice was still hoarse as he said, "You have to come with me."

"Well, if you waited decades, can you wait a few more hours? I have school, and please do NOT disturb me during my class," Seohyun made sure her tone was polite as she said this, but the man grunted. Before he could try anything, she muttered an awkward bye and walked swiftly to the gates, letting the cat go. She didn't realize she'd been holding the cat for comfort.

San, who had just witnessed Seohyun talking to thin air from the other side of the road, sighed loudly as he walked slowly to the gates.

San hadn't meant to follow her, but he turned around after a few steps of walking to the building, hoping to offer to come along with her, but when he saw her stop in the middle of the road and look as if she was actually talking to someone, he paused. He knew he shouldn't, but he watched her. And he did not know what to make of it.

Was Seohyun crazy? Didn't look like it. If she was, she did a damn good job at hiding it. When San finally reached class, he saw Seohyun chatting with Jongho. Perfectly normal. Or was she?

San said nothing as he sat in his spot, but he felt her tap his shoulder. He turned around and she asked, "I thought you went to class, where were you roaming around?"

San stared at her light brown orbs, coming out of the trance when she blinked. "I just wanted to walk around a bit."

He saw her frown but then she nodded and went back to chatting with Jongho. San turned back in his seat, and throughout the classes, he kept wondering if that was the reason why she covered her face or eyes.

When school ended, Seohyun said she had to go somewhere and said bye. San made an excuse too and started to follow her. He was going to see for himself, what she was gonna do.

San knew it was impolite to do this. And he knew if she found out, she'd really be angry with him, maybe never talk to him again. This was supposed to be her secret for sure. She would probably never tell any one of them. He wasn't even sure what it was.

Seohyun led him to an abandoned warehouse, and he heard her say, "Why bring me here?"

She paused for a few second, looking around as if for help, and San ducked quickly behind the boxes before she could see her. He couldn't hear her now, but he did get bits about how it was creepy of 'him' to bring her to this place without warning her, and he didn't miss how she kept looking behind her, as if she was waiting for someone to appear or just didn't want to keep doing this.

Who was this 'him'? Her imaginary friend? A ghost? San shook his head, and got on his feet when he noticed her go inside the warehouse.

San crept up behind them, and couldn't believe what he saw.

The locked door somehow unlocked, somehow the chains fell and the door magically opened wide in front of her, without Seohyun having even moved a finger.

What was happening?

Seohyun was asked to come in the warehouse and she couldn't ignore the roaring of her gut that told her something was going to go really, really wrong. She had such a strong feeling some years ago too, and she had barely gotten away from her life then.

All her nerves screamed at her to run, anywhere, just not go in. Where was Jiwoo when she needed her? Seohyun was kind of furious how she was never there for her.

Seohyun watched the old man walk in, looking around, and before she entered, she turned her head once hoping she would see Jiwoo-

Instead, she felt her heart sink as she saw none other than San, attempting to hide as their eyes met.

"Come in now, don't keep me waiting," the man grumbled, and Seohyun shouted an okay to him before she looked at San, hoping to warn him with her eyes as she put a finger to her mouth, telling him not to make a sound and motioning him to stay where he was.

Seohyun went inside, her heart slamming against her chest. This wasn't supposed to happen. San must think she's crazy or worse. Her mind made a mental list of how many ways this could go wrong.

"I used to think mediators ran in the family. But the one who was supposed to help me, he did not have any offspring. I spent so many years in ignorance, not knowing that it was completely random. Just like god picking up a needle in the haystack."

"Cut to the chase. What do you want with me and why bring me here?"

"I have forgotten why I died. And I want to move on. But I can't because I don't remember why I am still here. Someone told me there were various other ways to move on... Let's say I had to try."

As soon as Seohyun saw the growing smirk on the man, she knew it was time to run the hell away. But several bottles came flying at her, and she barely dodged them as they crashed on the wall next to her.

"You don't have to do this! It's wrong! I help dead people move on, there must be a way other than stupid violence-"

But the man waved another hand and now the boxes came flying at her. She was grabbed by the arm and pulled against someone, and she sighed in both relief and horror as she saw it was San.

"Are you stupid! You'll get hurt!" She yelled at him. He just took her hand and ran towards the shelves, hoping to hide from whatever it was that sent flying objects in the air. He almost dragged her until he was sure he was quite away from whatever it was.

"What the hell is happening?" San asked through his teeth.

"Why did you even follow me? Are you stupid?"

"Who is it?" San's grip on her wrist tightened as his eyes searched around.

"It's a ghost, San. Do you believe me?" Seohyun asked, waiting for a snide remark.

"From what I've seen? Sure," San muttered, and Seohyun wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic.

"He's near. Let's move," Seohyun said, and this time, she grabbed San's hand as she led him through the various shelves that lined the warehouse, glad they weren't empty.

A blast shocked them, making them jump in the air as they realized the shelves were collapsing one by one.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Seohyun ran, San matching her pace and she ran her eyes around, finally finding a place to hide. It was a narrow passage between huge containers. Seohyun looked at her options. The man was blocking the entrance so now they could just hide and pray for help or... die. If that's the worst that was to come.

Seohyun dragged San with her to the narrow passage, both of them barely fitting in the small dark place. Now they were side to side but San's body was still half out, so Seohyun pulled him closer, until he was almost in front of him. Since the passage was so narrow and short, there wasn't much gap between them.

San was a bundle of nerves and all, his heart beating wildly. "What's going on-"

"Shh," Seohyun whispered, putting a hand on his mouth to shut him up, "I'll explain everything later, I promise."

San nodded, taking off her hand from his mouth but not leaving it. Seohyun was too busy concentrating on where the man was to notice it. He saw her wince, and she looked at San with apologetic eyes.

"If something happens to us, I'm sorry, San. I'll do my best to save you. The man-the ghost is after me. I don't know why," Seohyun sighed, and San squeezed her hand assuringly.

"I'm with you. Nothing will happen," he whispered, thinking he must sound stupid to say that. But it must have given her some sort of assurance. She put her head on San's chest, sighing again.

The two of them heard the sounds of things getting destroyed alright, Seohyun hearing the man as well, and Seohyun almost cried in relief as she heard Jiwoo whisper her name.

"I can teleport you, but what about him-"

"Either we both go, or we both stay," Seohyun said firmly. She wasn't going to leave him alone.

"Go where?" San asked. Seohyun told him her friend was here and she could help.

Jiwoo looked at Seohyun and a slow grin appeared on her face. "There is something I could try..."

"What?" Seohyun narrowed her eyes at Jiwoo.

"What if I teleport you, but you're still holding San? Would he come with us?"

"I don't know, unnie..." Seohyun trailed, but an idea stuck to her. "It's the same as when I have something with me right? A bag, a cap, something. But that's objects. What about actual humans?"

"Remember when we accidentally teleported our cat once? It was holding on to you and you had forgotten. What if this works?"

Seohyun bit her lip. It was worth a try. "If it doesn't work, promise me we'll come back to San right then."

"But your body can't handle too many teleportations-"

"Promise me," Seohyun insisted, and Jiwoo rolled her eyes as she nodded. "Hurry up, he's closer."

"San, listen to me carefully," Seohyun said. "You know what teleportation is, right?"

San wanted to ask her if now was really the time, but he said yes- from the movies, and she continued, "I'm gonna attempt to teleport you along with me. My friend is gonna do that. You have to trust me."

"No way," San muttered, sighing deeply.

"Yes, you were stupid and brave enough to follow me, so yes, we are teleporting. I've done it before, but I've never teleported someone... normal with me, so this might not work. So if I disappear, and you're here all alone, I promise you, San, that I'll be back within a minute, okay?"

"How am I supposed to make sense of all you're saying?" San's eyes were helpless.

"Just... trust me. I won't leave you alone. I promise. Now, I have to, er, hold you, so she can teleport us. Gotta make sure I take you with me..."

Seohyun heard Jiwoo snicker, and she passed her a death glare. San, tempted to roll his eyes, held her hands.

"I'm afraid I'll have to hold you tighter. You see, when we teleport, we tend to lose what we're not holding tightly..."

"Oh..." San left her hands, and Seohyun muttered 'here goes nothing' as she wrapped her arms around San's waist, surprised that it was so small.

"Hold me tightly, and no matter what, do not let me go, you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," San said as he bent down to place his chin on her shoulder and bring her closer. "This okay?"

"Yes," Seohyun realized she was holding her breath, so she said, "Take a deep breath, San."

San did so, and Jiwoo smirked a little, watching two scared children hug each other. She came forward, holding Seohyun only, and did her magic.

San felt his stomach twist and turn, saw a million colourful stars, almost got nauseous but his only comfort was Seohyun so he held her tighter and shut his eyes. He didn't open them again until he landed on hard ground, his back aching with the impact.

He opened his eyes and saw... nothing.

He wasn't sure if he was blind or not, but he looked down and saw Seohyun half on top of him, attempting to get up, and he realized he had his vision all right.

"Where the hell," Seohyun got up, "are we?"

"I guess your body could only attempt a half trip," Jiwoo said, and San instantly turned at the voice, making eye contact with the red haired girl.

"That's the ghost friend that teleported us?" San asked Seohyun.

"You can see her!?" Seohyun asked, and San looked at Jiwoo.

"I wasn't supposed to see her, was I?" He raised his brow, and Seohyun looked at Jiwoo.

"Hey, kid, nice to officially meet you," Jiwoo said, holding out a hand to him so he could stand up. San tried to take it, but his hand passed through Jiwoo's hand, and he gasped.

"I guess you can only see then," Seohyun bit her lip as she looked around. "Is this where ghosts come when they... move on?"

"That's where I come when I'm not on planet Earth," Jiwoo said, "It's like another plane, you could say, another dimension overlapping ours, except this one is for ghosts."

"What now? Should we try again?" Seohyun asked, coughing a bit.

"You should take a breather first. Your body can't handle it," Jiwoo nodded at her and Seohyun sat down on the ground, putting her head over her knees as she brought them closer, shivering a little. Jiwoo was right, something was happening to her. Like a cold coming to her.

"Is she okay?" San asked Jiwoo, and she shrugged. San ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around, finding no source of light that illuminated the area around them.

So Seohyun wasn't crazy. Somehow, though it made no sense, she could see ghosts, she could touch them. San looked at Jiwoo and opened his mouth to ask something, but then thought against it. Now was not the time.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Jiwoo commented, "Let's try to get out of here first before we have the talk."

"Has she... ever brought someone here?" San asked.

"This is the first time she came here too," Jiwoo said, "Usually when a ghost teleports her, it's quick and efficient. Much like you see in movies or books."

"We should get out of this place quick. I don't want him to come find us here," Seohyun said, getting up.

"Are you sure you're okay? Can you make it back?" Jiwoo asked.

"I have to," Seohyun said.

Jiwoo nodded, and Seohyun looked at San for permission. San came forward and they both held each other tight as Jiwoo attempted to teleport them again.

This time, they landed on soft grass, but the impact with which they did sent them rolling a bit. San's breath was knocked out of him and he coughed loudly, gasping for breath. As soon as he recovered, he looked for Seohyun-

Seohyun was bent rather awkwardly, and it looked like she wasn't moving. San and Jiwoo both rushed to her, straightening her body. Jiwoo checked if she was breathing.

"She is breathing. She must have collapsed from being tired, don't worry, it's happened before too," Jiwoo assured him.

San sighed, looking up at the sky, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He looked around, finding the place familiar.

"Is this... the park near our school?" San asked Jiwoo.

"Yes, I tried to teleport us as close to Seohyun's home as possible, but looks like we could only make it till here."

"What if someone had seen us appear out of thin air?"

Jiwoo laughed. "They'd probably run for their lives. You'd be aliens."

San smiled a little at that. That's exactly what he would have thought if he had seen Seohyun.

"So are you... Seohyun's friend?" San finally asked.

"You could say that. I'm older than her so she always calls me unnie, but I keep telling her to call me Jiwoo."

"Then I'll call you noona," San smiled, making Jiwoo grin.

"She helps ghosts move on. When someone dies and they have unfinished business that they just can't leave behind, they sometimes choose to become ghosts until they get done with that. Seohyun helps them do that."

"That must be hard..." San wondered if it was always as bad as this time.

"It is, but what happened today is not a common occurrence. The man she saw today, he's been dead for a good while and has forgotten his purpose here. I once heard the other ghosts talk about him too. Ghosts like that, you have to avoid them. They're bitter, and usually mean Seohyun harm."

"So now... I can see you, does that mean I'll be able to see other ghosts too?"

"You'll find out soon," Jiwoo said.

Seohyun woke up with a gasp, her eyes wide. Jiwoo helped her sit up, and Seohyun muttered 'water'. San quickly opened Seohyun's bag and fished out her bottle, which she drank hungrily from, some water spilling down her chin as well.

"Slow down, kid," Jiwoo patted her back. Seohyun emptied the whole bottle, wiping her chin, then felt something run down her nose.

"Nosebleed. Do you have tissues?" Jiwoo asked and Seohyun shrugged, looking upwards and holding her nose. Jiwoo searched through her bag but San took out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Seohyun.

"Does this usually happen?" San asked.

"No... it's the first time," Jiwoo admitted. Seohyun nodded too. "When we accidentally teleported the cat with her, she became dehydrated, but that was it."

Seohyun wiped her nose, looking at Jiwoo and she gave her a thumbs up.

"I shouldn't have followed you..." San shook his head, "It's because of me that-"

"You shouldn't have, but I'm kind of glad you did. Jiwoo is unreliable as a ghost friend and who knows what would have happened to me if you were not there? I could have died," Seohyun said nonchalantly.

"HEY!" Jiwoo smacked her arm but Seohyun ignored her.

"But look at you-" San was cut by Seohyun putting her hand up and saying, "I need food, and I mean NOW."

A few minutes later, they were watching Seohyun hungrily gulp down noodles and fried chicken. San had stopped eating midway just to watch her eat with a speed he hadn't ever seen before.

"Are you sure you're even chewing?" He asked, and Seohyun glared at him.

"The food is not going anywhere, Seohyun, slow down," Jiwoo laughed, "seeing you eat like this is making me wish I could eat too."

"Okay, mom," Seohyun said, finally slowing down. They ate the rest of the food silently, then Seohyun decided she'd like some coffee. They decided to walk her home as she sipped on her coffee and answered San's questions.

"Have you ever told anyone?" San asked first.

"Never. My mom only knows because she's, well, my mom and it's weird when a little kid sees stuff nobody else does."

"And what has she done about this?" San wasn't sure if he should have asked this.

Seohyun sighed, "She tried to 'help' me, but then she decided avoiding me was the best way. So now she's married to her work."

"And your dad?"

"He's never been here in the first place."

"Oh..." San faltered, but saw Seohyun shrug. "You can ask me anything, San. You deserve an explanation. Don't hesitate."

"Why can you see ghosts?"

"I don't know that either," Seohyun smiled as she looked at the sky. "Born this way?"

"Would you have ever told us?" San asked. Seohyun stopped walking at that, and faced him.

"To be honest, I've never made friends, San, because of this reason. That someone would find out. They'd never believe me, they'd think I'm crazy. So I don't know if I would have told you guys, ever," Seohyun paused, "But you found out, and you witnessed everything. What do you think?"

San scratched his neck. "I think you're right. I don't think any of us would have believed you. We'd have dismissed it as a joke. But now that I did see everything... It's different now. I hope you understand that."

"You sure you don't want to, I don't know, ever talk to me and all?"

San smiled. "You think I'd abandon my friend just like that?"

Seohyun couldn't help but stare at San, his sharp eyes that grew warmer every time he smiled, how they slightly curved.

"I want you to know that if it was anyone of us, and they had seen what I had seen, they would have never abandoned you. We don't take our friendships lightly."

"That's... good to hear," Seohyun finally smiled. "Do you think they'd believe us if we tell them?"

"They'd need some convincing, but yes, they would. Do you want to tell them?"

"Not yet," Seohyun said, "When the time is right."

San nodded, and squeezed her hand. "If you're ever in danger, you tell me, okay? If you need anyone, or anything, you tell me, got it? You don't have to face this alone anymore."

Seohyun almost cried right there, but she held it back, squeezing his hand back and nodding. They walked a few minutes until she finally reached home.

"Thank you, San. For everything." Seohyun smiled at him, and this time it was a true smile. San was actually taken aback. It felt like she had truly smiled for the first time, unfiltered.

"Anytime," San managed to say, and watched her go in. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the image of Seohyun smiling, but found himself smiling too.

Meanwhile, Seohyun collapsed as soon as she entered, and she allowed herself to cry, both happy and sad tears, happy that someone finally understood her, and sad that it hadn't happen earlier. Jiwoo sat down with her, silently rubbing her back.

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

Seohyun almost slept in the next day, only woken up for school when Jiwoo threw her off the bed for 'sleeping like a sloth'. She couldn't exactly blame her. Seohyun had been so tired that after crying her heart out, she'd only had the energy to change before she collapsed on her bed and slept without moving an inch.

"My whole body hurts like I did some major workout," Seohyun mumbled as she tried running towards school, but gave up. She'd just walk.

"I don't recall you having such after effects after a teleportation," Jiwoo wondered.

"When it's just me, I'm only drained a bit. Like running. But even when I took the cat accidentally, my head hurt a lot. This time it was a whole human."

"Maybe because they aren't meant to be there," Jiwoo shrugged, meowing at the cat who appeared out of nowhere as usual. "Sometimes I think you might have transferred this teleportation thing to your cat too."

"Except 'I' can't teleport. You ghosts can," Seohyun corrected. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't tried teleporting herself home from school. How cool would that have been?

Jiwoo picked the cat and quickly passed it to Seohyun so no one would witness a flying cat. Seohyun draped her over her shoulder so Jiwoo could play with her. As they were walking, they saw San standing in a corner. He waved, then joined them.

"Hi noona," he said, and Jiwoo tried poking San but her hand went through him.

"I guess you can still only see," Jiwoo shook her head, continuing to pet the cat.

"You can touch the cat? And she sees you?" San asked, curiously watching them.

"Ever since we accidentally teleported her, I can touch her. But I'm pretty sure she could see me before too. All cats can, I think."

"Interesting..."

"Were you... waiting for us or something?" Seohyun finally asked.

"I was. I couldn't sleep last night, truth be told. I kept thinking about what happened. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't freak out..."

"I'm more surprised about that," Seohyun admitted.

"Meanwhile Seohyun here slept as soon as she reached home and I had to wake her up for school too," Jiwoo flipped her hair dramatically. Seohyun scoffed at that.

"You must be very tired... Are you okay?" San asked.

Seohyun nodded, and before she could say something they heard someone calling their names. It was Wooyoung and Yeosang. They joined them, Wooyoung putting his arm over San's shoulder as he said, "You're early today. You usually come in last minute."

"I woke up early today," San said casually, his eyes darting towards Seohyun unconsciously. Yeosang noticed that, trying to stop the smile creeping on his mouth as he looked between Seohyun and San. Seohyun gave him a warning glare, one she made sure was strong enough.

As they waited for class to start, Seohyun was resting her head on the desk. She couldn't quite believe the fact that someone now knew who she was, and was not disgusted or freaked out by her. She couldn't stop wondering what the future would be like, what if this group of boys would really get her to warm up to them, and how they would react if they found out.

San turned around in his seat, a frown growing on his face as he noticed how tired she looked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just very, very tired," Seohyun sighed, lifting her head.

"What if the ghost-man comes here?" San asked.

"Oh. I'd totally forgotten about him..." Seohyun bit her lip, "Well, he knows better not to make a scene in front of people, so chances are he won't."

"Chances? That ghost was dangerous!" San hissed, "What if he does come here?"

"Jiwoo must be out on watch. She'd warn me." Seohyun said, and San looked a little relieved at that. "It's not like the ghost can hurt you, so don't worry."

San rolled his eyes. "I'm worried about you, stupid."

"Oh," Seohyun paused. "You don't have to. I'll be fine."

San tsk-ed at her, turning back in his seat. Seohyun stared at the back of his head. Yunho dragged his seat towards Seohyun as he said, "You both are getting along rather well."

"Well," Seohyun slumped back in her seat, "he keeps talking."

Yunho laughed at that, "He's been thinking of names for your cat too."

"I won't approve if I don't like it. He knows that, right?"

"I'll give a good name, don't worry," San turned back in his seat, having overheard the conversation.

"I don't have much expectations from you, to be honest," Seohyun said casually, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I think Jongho there could give a much better name. He looks like he actually uses his brain."

Yunho and San looked at each other and giggled at that. Her observation was true. Jongho was infamously known as the 'only braincell' of the group. Yunho told her that, which actually made her smile.

"See? I know how to spot the smart ones."

"Who do you think is the most dumb one out of us?" San asked, attempting to make puppy eyes so she won't pick him. Seohyun looked at each one of them slowly, then said, "I haven't talked to you all much, but Wooyoung looks like he doesn't really like to use his brain."

The pair of them laughed so loud at that, catching the rest of the boys' attention as Seohyun tried to shut them up. But they were in tears, slapping their thighs as they laughed.

"Can the both of you stop? San you're second dumbest, just so you know."

That just made them laugh harder. The boys slowly came to them, muttering how they wanted to know what was 'so funny that they were howling'.

"She thinks the smartest one of us is Jongho, and the dumbest is Wooyoung," Yunho finally explained.

Wooyoung was laughing at first until he realized and yelled "HEY!" Jongho giggled, looking satisfied.

"Your brain processing is just a bit slow, that's all. No offence," Seohyun muttered.

"I mean, she's not wrong..." Hongjoong made an impressed face.

"Where do I stand?" Mingi asked, "I'm the second smartest right?"

"From below, yes," Seohyun said, making them all laugh. They all insisted that she rank them, and then they'd tell her if she was right about this.

"I don't actually think you're dumb, okay? This is just a joke, don't take it seriously-"

"I know, we all know," Wooyoung assured her, smiling warmly, "carry on."

"...Okay," Seohyun hesitated a bit then started, "Hongjoong is smartest obviously but Jongho is quite smart too? He seems more mature. Then Yeosang or Seonghwa, San somewhere in the middle depending on how awake he is, not sure about Yunho, but Mingi and Wooyoung... well they're pretty close. Because they don't like using their brains..."

"Most of it is accurate," Hongjoong agreed, "Yunho is more lucky than smart."

"Ah.. must be nice to be god's favourite," Seohyun scoffed. "But hey, I like Mingi and Wooyoung. They make you all laugh. That's more important."

Mingi and Wooyoung clapped at that, finally approving.

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

It was finally after school, when San insisted on accompanying her to her home so she would get there 'safe', that they encountered the old ghost right outside her house.

"Get behind me" San protectively pushed Seohyun behind her.

"I appreciate the gesture, San, but this won't work. Use your brain."

"Oh... Right," San scratched his head and Jiwoo, who had also been with them the entire time, stepped forward.

"We can talk this out like civil human beings and ghosts. Then you can decide if you really want to kill Seohyun."

"NOONA!" San shouted in disbelief but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

"Very touching, all this, but I agree, we can have a normal conversation," the old man said.

"How long have you been a ghost exactly?"

"So long that I have forgotten my purpose, girl," the ghost snickered. "I heard from some older ghosts that killing the mediator by our own hands would make us move on."

Seohyun saw San and Jiwoo both tense. "And you thought you'd check?"

The old man nodded. "The mediator before you... Some other ghost killed him. It was some sort of revenge. He was supposed to help me."

"I could help some other way, because killing me doesn't really sound like a solution to me... Like, think about it. It doesn't make sense."

"Are you sure you aren't saying that because you don't want to die yet?" The old man smirked.

"Oh please," Seohyun faked swagger, "If I had an option, I'd kill me too." San shook his head at her.

"Very well. I'll hear you out."

Seohyun explained that she knew an old shaman who helped ghosts with no purpose to move on. It took some convincing and death threats to Seohyun, but she finally made him realize that it might be his one and only option now, and that he should just 'stop being a pain and move the hell on'.

"If it turns out to be a scam, I promise I'll come for you, whether it helps me move on or not."

"Please do," Seohyun replied nonchalantly. The ghost signaled to Jiwoo and they disappeared.

San turned to see that Seohyun was now leaning against the wall, wiping sweat from her forehead as she sighed in relief. "Nice acting."

Seohyun looked at him once before drinking from her water bottle. She had noticed the disapproval in his voice. She stared at him when she was done, and he stared back for a good few seconds before he finally sighed loudly.

"How can you be so... stupid at times like these?"

"How was that stupid? I talked to him and poured sense into him. And it worked. I don't see the problem."

"Does your life mean nothing to you?" San asked.

"San, chill, it was just acting-"

"Those ghosts can touch you!" San was louder this time, making Seohyun flinch a little, "They can hurt you like any other human, hell, they can hurt you in worse ways than that! How can you be so relaxed when gambling with your life?!"

Seohyun watched as San ran a hand through his hair frustratingly, clearly holding himself back. His whole body was tense, his jaw was set and he was not having any of it.

"Are you done?" Seohyun asked, making sure it came out soft. San shook his head.

"I've been seeing ghosts my entire life. My mom took me to all sorts of people for help. You think I don't know how dangerous it is? I learned from the worst. And I'm old enough and experienced enough to know how to handle rogue ghosts like these. Trust me on that."

"I know you are, Seohyun," San admitted, "I just hate it when you talk about your life like it means nothing. Like you'd have no problem if something happened."

"Let's just say I haven't had something I'd like to live for yet," Seohyun said.

San locked eyes with her. "I'll make it change now."

"What?"

"There's so much to life. I know you haven't had the best life, but you have people you can rely on now. And I'll make sure you'll have something to live for."

"What do you live for?" Seohyun asked, curious.

San smiled. "My parents, my grandparents, my friends. And myself."

"Doesn't it... get too much? Living for all of them... must be hard. And boring."

"What's hard and boring is when I had nothing to live for," San said, "When life became repetitive, and I didn't really love anyone, including myself. But now... I have something to look forward to. And no matter if it gets hard, I'll have people to lean on. So ask yourself this, Seohyun. Is it hard living like me or is it hard living like you?"

San knew his words had crossed her, so he locked eyes with her for a second longer before he waved and left for home, leaving Seohyun wondering if she really had wasted all her life repelling people, and if it really had been a wise decision.

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing.

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin. It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

#tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #georgie barker #rosie zampano #tma rosie #tim stoker #meet cute #blind date au #this is my love letter to TMA #prompt answer #fanfic prompt

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funkwhistle · 4 years ago

Text

Dutch Van der Linde x reader

Dutch Van Der Linde x pregnant reader

Pairing: Dutch Van der Linde x F!reader

Warnings: A bit of NSFW themes at start, fluff, and pregnancy

A/N: Thank you to anon for requesting this, I had one half written so sorry if this isn’t what you were expecting - might do some headcanons about this in the future. Little disclaimer - I’ve never been pregnant, so anything which is incorrect, just let me know and I can sort it. Otherwise, happy reading! :)

(Photo is mine - don't reupload without tagging me)

“What've you been eating dear?” Dutch asked, his fingers gently ghosting over your breasts as you lay there. When you didn't reply, he continued, “I mean, they're just… nicer I guess?” By this point you were half asleep, but you just shrugged, moving back into him. He hummed contentedly, kissing your shoulder gently as the pair of you fell asleep.

Dutch rolled off you, breathing heavily and kissing you lightly on the head as he lay beside you. Exhausted, you moved closer to him, so he could drape his arm over you and pull you closer to him under the blanket to try and retain some sort of heat between the pair of you.

When you awoke the next day, Dutch had left the tent already, he was chatting to Arthur outside about another job. Quietly, you got dressed as fast as you could, thinking about Dutch's comments last night. Maybe it was the spring weather making you feel like this. Emerging from the tent, Dutch glanced over at you, smiling a little before returning to the conversation as you walked over to Tilly and Mary-Beth who were sewing up one of the shirts.

“Ah, Dutch has some socks which need darning,” Tilly said, pushing the needle she'd been using into the fabric and passing over the socks. The heel had worn through, a simple fix, but it would take a little time, so you sat down beside them and got to work as the warm sunlight filtered through the trees.

After you'd sewn his socks, you stitched a rip in one of Hosea's neckerchiefs before standing up to take a break. However, as you stood up, you began to feel dizzy, and a previously unfelt sickness came flooding over you as the world swam a little. Grasping onto the wagon beside you, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the feeling to go away, before moving. the dizziness left, but the nausea was still there, gnawing at your insides like you'd forgotten something.

“You alright there?” Mary-Beth asked, glancing up at you. “Did you eat this morning?” Shaking your head, you realised she was correct; you hadn't eaten anything since last night, that would be why you felt like this. thanking Mary-Beth, you walked to Pearson's wagon, grabbing a dry bread roll and biting down on it. Instead of quelling your sickness as you'd expected, the bread only made things worse, making you feel like when you'd eaten some raw meat a few months ago. Swallowing forcefully, you shook off the feeling, although you didn't finish the bread.

The sickness didn't leave for the whole day, and as the night drew in you found yourself in the tent, sitting by the small stove he had in there and massaging your temples. Dutch came into the tent then, and upon seeing you rushed over to you, carefully placing a kiss on your forehead before rubbing circles on your knee as he looked at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and you merely nodded, your headache getting painful now; and him speaking wasn't helping. He sighed, coaxing you to sit up fully so he could wrap his arms around you, helping you to stand. You were too exhausted to speak, but you smiled gratefully as he turned you around, making an effort to unlace your corset with care, although the knot at the bottom got him a little confused. After your corset was off, he pulled your skirt off, and pulled you closer to him, now only in your undergarments.

Dutch placed deliberate kisses over your neck and shoulder, making you sigh into him as you stood there together, you nearly falling asleep in his arms. the last thing you could remember before you drifted off was Dutch laying you in the bed beside you and pulling the blanket over you both.

You didn't know how long you'd been asleep for, but that didn't matter now as you felt much more nauseous than yesterday. Pushing yourself away from Dutch as he slept, you wobbled to the edge of the tent before falling onto your knees as you retched on the grass outside. Someone must have heard, as you felt someone pulling your hair from out of your face.

“It'll be alright, no worries. Dutch!” The gruff voice belonged to Arthur, who was calling fruitlessly for Dutch as he hushed you, rubbing your back gently as you shook in the cold grass.

By now you'd stopped retching, pushing yourself up so you were sitting as you pulled a face at the taste in your mouth. The early morning air was cold, biting at your exposed skin now you sat on the floor, dew seeping into your clothes. Arthur offered you his water as he stuck his head into Dutch's tent to wake him. Drinking a little made you feel better, but you couldn't shake the idea you might be pregnant, you remembered from when Abigail was that she would always be sick in the mornings.

Dutch emerged from the tent with Arthur, and when he saw you sat in the grass he shuddered himself, wrapping his arms around you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Dutch mouthing a thank you to Arthur as he walked away. Feeling less ill now, you buried your head into Dutch's chest, trying to keep your tears at bay as he rocked you soothingly, muttering something calming to you.

The sunrise was visible by the time you felt you could stand up. Dutch supported you as you walked back into the tent, pulling one of your slip-on dresses over your head before letting you sit on the bed to allow him to get dressed. And yet you couldn't shake the idea of your possible pregnancy from your mind, deciding to ask the only person who knew, Abigail.

Dutch was more doting than usual throughout the day, coming over to check on you every few hours and not allowing you to work at all. However, while he was busy talking to Hosea, you caught the eye of Abigail, who you quickly motioned to come over.

“You good?” she sat down opposite you at the table you'd been playing dominoes on earlier. Sighing, you decided you needed to ask someone, so glancing around to check nobody was over hearing, you leant in and whispered;

“I think I might be pregnant?” Surprisingly, Abigail didn't even flinch, instead a grin spread over her face, making you more confused.

“You've finally worked it out? You ain't eaten properly for days and you can see a little bump?” she laughed a little at your face of shock. “Come on, most of the girls have cottoned on now,” you shook your head, disbelievingly, but now she mentioned it; you didn't eat all your dinner the other day, and you noticed you had to loosen your corset. Abigail took your hands in her own, making you look back up at her and you could tell what she was going to say next.

“You gotta tell him,”

“How? He won't want it,” your eyes began to prick with tears as you realised the reality of your situation, that you'd have to raise a child without the father, Dutch could die on any day, with a bounty like that on his head. Sure, you wanted a child at some point, but not now, maybe when you'd settled a little; got a house of your own, with a yard for the kid and… As she was aware your panic had begun to set in, Abigail continued calmly;

“Well, when I had Jack I didn't know if he was John's, so I told Dutch first. When I tell you he was excited about the idea of there being a child in camp-” she stopped at your face, you'd been wondering if Jack was, in fact, Dutch's. As though she could read your mind, Abigail shook her head, continuing. “Don't worry, he is John's, I spoke to Dutch because I didn't know if I had to leave camp,” you smiled at this, maybe she was right about him after all.

After speaking to Abigail, you didn't leave the tent for the rest of the day, with Dutch bringing you a small bit of food in the evening.

“You feeling an-” Dutch started, passing you a bowl of stew which you took from him eagerly, but not eating any yet, you wanted to tell him first.

“Dutch, I need to tell you something,” you interrupted him as he sat down beside you. All of a sudden, all your previous courage had gone, replaced with doubt and worry about his reaction; if he banished you from the gang you had nowhere to go. Cocking his head, Dutch was looking at you expectantly, the stew on one of the crates behind him, long forgotten.

“I think I'm pregnant,”

Dutch didn't move at first, and you were worried he'd take it badly, he was twisting his rings as he processed your information.

��You're sure?” you nodded, mentioning you were going to go into town tomorrow to get the doctor to confirm it. Dutch still didn't say anything, although his hand found it's way to interlocking itself with yours. Slowly, he looked up at you, and you could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes as a smile began to spread over his face, making you smile also.

“You're going to make a wonderful mother Miss Van Der Linde,” he was still beaming, but he pulled you close so he could kiss you instead of you seeing him cry. “We can have a mini Van Der Linde running around camp now,” his reaction prompted tears of relief from you, and the pair of you sat together, you on his lap now, whispering about the good news. Dutch kept drawing patterns on your small bump, and placing kisses on whichever bit of skin he could.

#dutch van der linde #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x fem!reader #pregnancy #rdr2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #Pearson #sadie adler #bill williamson #anon #rdr2 pregnancy #fluff #hosea mathews

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ethanharli · 4 years ago

Text

Requested: On Wattpad

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Top Male Reader

Warning(s): Smutt, Nsfw, Bottom Steve, Top Reader, daddy kink, biting, slightly public sex, slight cum denial.

A/n- .. I'm rusty lol

____________________________________

"Should I say the pledge or?" I tilted my head in confusion, sipping away at my coffee while my gaze lazily trailed over Steve's body, seeing him in his Captain America uniform, but my eyes lingered a little longer on his figure then I'd ever be willing to admit. Steve's eyebrow twitched in annoyance that I so happily inflicted upon him, not caring for the stares of Nat' and Tony as they shared a knowing look. "You should learn some respect" He shot back, yet before I could make another comment he then stood tall and shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, I forget men of your nature know nothing of respect" The grin that spread across his face had my nose twitching in irritation. My upper lip nearly curling up in a snarl, but I hid it well behind my coffee mug.

"At least 'men like me' have more of a backbone then good little soldiers like you" I practically growled out the words, anger slowly stinging through my veins like molten metal. But I couldn't stop the wolfish grin from spreading on my face at the sight of him, his fists clenched at his sides, his teeth gritting together in obvious irritation and if this were a cartoon I'd think there'd be fume coming from his ears. Steve about came running at me until Nat rested her hand on his shoulder, Tony making sure to stand between us like some sort of barrier. "What do you get out of being an ass?" Steve shot back, glaring at me through narrowed eyes that held no affect against me. So pushing myself off of the counter I sent another smirk his way, but it felt weaker than before, "Language Cap'."

I could feel his eyes bore into my back as I walked away, not knowing why I even bothered to push the argument, hell I don't even know why I started one in the first place, but pushing those thoughts away I let a different one flood through my mind.

He looks good in that suit.

----

It's been a couple of hours after that, and I decided to sit on the roof to take in the cold breeze that flicked through the air, sending a deep chill to my bones that I much appreciated. However everything looked magical at this time of night, the sky coated in a pallet of blues and purples, the stars shinning as bright as they could against the light of the city below, which bustled with life and at some point I could've sworn I saw flashes of blue and red swinging about. Barley hearing the door open behind me, I continued to stare towards the city, gently tapping my heal against the wall of the tower as I let out a drawn out sigh of content. "It's nice out here" The sudden voice didn't faze me, only nodding in return while Steve stood besides me, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"What do you want? You never come around me of your own violation" I grumbled out, feeling a twinge of regret right after I said it. I've never been much of a people person, but when it comes to Steve I don't know- I just don't know how to make conversation with him, doesn't matter how badly I want to, I always mess it up one way or another. "You know what, nevermind-! I came out here to be civil and have an actual conversation with you but you obviously don't know what 'civil' is" He spat out the word, leaving me with a vile taste in my mouth as I stood from my spot and turned towards him, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Civil? Civil?! Oh that's fucking rich! The great Captain America wants to lecture me on being civil!" I shouted, my hands shooting up in exasperation, anger slowly starting to bubble up within me as I took a step towards him, forcing him to take a step back.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd stop acting like a street thug!" He retorted, holding my vicious glare with his own, taking another step back when I took another step forward.

"Yeah well this 'street thug' didn't even get a fucking thank you for saving your life! Is it so fucking hard for someone as 'great' and 'amazing' as you," My words came out dangerously low, trapping the slightly shorter man against the metal door, my hand slamming down besides his head as I spat out the words. "To tell someone 'like me' a simple thank you? I got hospitalized and in the end the only ones that thanked me were the one's I didn't even save."

I didn't even notice the way his face heated up from the close proximity, being to wrapped up in my own bubble that I just couldn't pay attention. "Is it really that impossible for you to tell me something so simple just because of my profession?!" I couldn't even feel the way his hands gripped at my coat, "Cause if that's the case then fine! I'm so fucking sorry for caring-!" My words were cut short when I was suddenly yanked forwards, feeling a pair of soft lips press against my own in a desperate motion that left me breathless. My hands immediately found their way to his hips, pressing his back firmly against the metal door as his hands traveled up into my hair, his fingers tangling into the [H/c] strands while mine slowly slipped under the hem of his shirt, feeling his bare skin against my fingertips.

"You talk to much" He mumbled out softly, pulling me closer against him until our bodies were completely connected, and I couldn't tare my gaze away from those beautiful blue eyes that I didn't even know how much I adored until now. "You're insufferable" I growled out playfully, not truly meaning the words but from the smile that tugged at his lips I could tell he knew that. I was pleasantly surprised when he lifted his leg up to hook around my hip, and knowing his intention I happily placed my hands under his thighs and hoisted him up, his legs instantly wrapping around my hips as he quickly yanked off his shirt, as I did the same. Letting my hands wander up his toned body while my leg helped keep him propped up against the door.

My heart practically hammered in my chest, and I could only hope he felt the same when I slowly dragged my tongue up from the base of his neck to his ear, taking his earlobe between my teeth to give it a small tug, feeling a light sting in my lower abdomen when I heard a choked gasp come from his parted lips, along with a few heavy pants that brought a wolfish grin to my face. "Damn, we barley even started and you're already panting like a bitch in heat" I purred, moving a hand down to run over his growing erection, "Ah!" I couldn't help but lick my upper lip in a slow motion, feeling my excitement grow from all the cute reactions he makes. Letting out a low chuckle I pressed my tongue against his shoulder, opening my mouth to leave a harsh bite, "F-Fuck!" He cursed, panting heavily as I press my nose to the base of his neck, biting down there as well while my thumbs graze over his nipples.

"D-Daddy.." I froze at the name, surprise evident on both our faces but a deep red blush manages to crawl up his neck and cheeks while a long smirk tugged at my lips. "I-Im so sorry-" I quickly shut him up by capturing his lips with my own, pressing my hips against his own to create some sort of friction as my thumbs begin to roll over his nipples, toying with them almost agonizingly slow. Drawing my tongue over his bottom lip I felt him moan into the kiss as I slipped my tongue inside, our tongues brushing together in heated desperation until I pulled back for air, a string of saliva connected to our lips as a deep chuckle reverberated throughout my chest, bringing my lips to his ear, my hands slowly working at his pants. "C'mon baby boy, say it again."

"Daddy.." He moaned out breathlessly as I lifted him up further to pull down his pants and boxers, just enough to make it easy as I wrapped my hand around his cock, rubbing my thumb over his swollen tip, "D-Daddy!" My tongue darted over my upper lip once more as he pressed his forehead against my own, his arms gripping onto my shoulders tightly as I moved my hand at a faster pace, loving the way his mouth parted with sharp breaths that I could see in the chilly air that couldn't even nip at our skin because of the heat between us. "Fuck!" Steve shuddered in my arms when I suddenly pressed my thumb against his tip, holding back his orgasm as he looked at me with pleading eye's, his sweaty blonde hair sticking to his face as he let out a low whimper, "P-Please.. Please let me cum."

"Not yet baby, now suck" My voice was steady and commanding as I brought my fingers to his lips, feeling my own erection twitch uncomfortably in my pants when he happily took three fingers into his mouth. The warmth of his mouth forced a drawn out groan from my lips, wondering if next time he'd take my cock instead. But forcing the thoughts down I pressed the pad of my middle finger against his tongue, watching as he stuck his tongue out his mouth, drool slowly dripping down it in a motion that nearly had me hypnotized until I looked into his eyes, using my other hand to slowly cup his cheek, "This'll feel uncomfortable at first, okay? If you want me to stop just tell me alright?" And with a swift nod from him I brought him back into a kiss to distract him from my fingers.

My middle finger slowly pushed inside him, but I made sure to keep him distracted with rough kisses and harsh love bites that had him whimpering in my grasp, and slowly I added another digit. A low hiss slipped past his parted lips, causing me to freeze for a moment until he gave me a reassuring nod, but even then I made sure to take it slow, moving my fingers in a scissoring motion that left him breathless. "Daddy-" He whimpered out, pressing his hips down onto my fingers after a few moments, "Daddy please.. Please fuck me, I need it.." He groaned out, looking up into my eyes with a hazy gaze that made me weak.

"Who knew you were good at begging" I mocked lightly, but my own erection made itself known from the tightness of my pants, so hoisting him up some more I quickly pulled them down, letting my cock spring free as I rested one hand on the top of the door frame, making sure he was secure between the door and I, "You ready?" I asked, watching as he gave a quick nod. So in a slow motion I pressed my cock against his entrance and slowly pushed it in, instantly moving my hand to hook under his thigh to stable him, "F-Fuck- Daddy!" He groaned out, panting heavily and it took everything in me not to just start pounding into him, simply relishing in the feeling of his tight walls around me until he got adjusted.

A few moment's passed until he finally gave me the go ahead, so I slowly began to thrust into him, both of us letting out pleasured groans as I began to quick up speed, "Nng! D-Daddy! F-Faster, please" Steve begged in a low whimper, his nails digging into my back as I hooked both hands both hands under his knees, gaining better access as I pounded into him, "Daddy!!" He shouted as a groan slipped past my lips, feeling my core begin to tighten as I listen to his moans and whimpers. "Fuck baby, you're so fucking tight" I let out a small hiss from the way his walls wrapped around me drawing me closer to my orgasm as he dragged his nails down my back, and I knew they'd leave marks.

"P-Please! Please let me cum- Please!" He whimpered desperately, so pulling him into a quick kiss I nodded my head, "Go ahead baby, cum for daddy" I grinned watching as he slowly unraveled, his cum coating both our lower abdomens and soon after I caught my own relief, releasing my cum deep inside him, "Ah!" He let out a surprised moan, slightly trembling in my arms. So carefully pulling out of him and setting him down, I made sure to grab my shirt and clean him up, wiping away any left over cum.

But I couldn't stop the small that seemed to spread on my face, my heart warming softly in my chest as I looked over his peaceful yet tired expression. "What are you doing..?" He asked groggily, looking up at me with a hazy gaze.

"Cleaning you up idiot, I'm not a complete asshole, now lets get you to bed."

#marvel #marvel avengers #steve rogers #captian america #x seme male reader #x male reader #x dom male reader #steve x seme male reader #steve rogers x seme male reader #captian america x seme male reader #steve x male reader #steve rogers x male reader #captian america x male reader #steve x dom male reader #steve rogers x dom male reader #captian america x dom male reader

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Kacey! I was reading though you dad witcher stuff for the 1000th time because oh my GOD it makes me happy, and I was curious: how do you think the wolves would react told holding their newborn for the first time? I'm not asking for a fic (unless you wanna😜) cause I know thats a HUGE undertaking, but just wondering your kinda headcanons on it. Would they be afraid to hold it, be kinda shocked numb like 'omg I made a tiny human can't compute', be super excited and never want to put it down, etc. And again, even headcanons is just if you want to. You write all of them so damn well and their emotional reactions to things are always 100% in character when you write them.

Thank you for putting out your amazing works, allot of them have honestly helped me plug along through 2020 and beginning 2021. I hope you have a wonderful day!

A/N: I’m so sorry this took forever to finish babe! I have no idea how the post baby being born thing goes? I don’t know how long it is until the dad holds the baby? But I did research and I did change some things up because I didn’t want to do each story the same. So sorry for anything that isn’t correct or accurate. I kept Geralt’s sort of short because I have done one similar to this before except with Lana (Smitten) so this time I did Bram!

Warnings: it’s implied that the reader went through birth before this but it isn’t mentioned, fluffy with a hint of witcher angst, does breastfeeding count as a warning? if so, there is breastfeeding in this but only briefly

***

Lambert

“What’s she going?”

“She’s eating, Lambert.”

“Why is she making that noise?”

“She’s breathing while she’s eating.”

“Is she supposed to be breathing like that?”

“Yes, love.”

“Bug, why do her eyes look so wide? She looks scared.”

“Probably because you’re staring at her and hovering so close.” You giggled softly. He was towering over you two and leaning over you and Eva as she nursed. You didn’t mind, but everything was new to Eva, who was born just a little bit ago.

Lambert moved away from Eva, choosing instead to sit near your knees so he wasn’t too close to make Eva uncomfortable or scare her, but so that he was close enough to watch her.

“How long until she’s done?”

“Oh, love.” You tore your eyes away from Eva to look up at your husband. “You’re so impatient.”

“It’s been hours.” He frowned. “I read somewhere that if I don’t hold her soon, she won’t know I’m her dad.”

“I can assure you that isn’t true.” You shook your head with a little chuckle. “And it hasn’t been hours. It’s been maybe a half of an hour. Once she’s finished eating, she’ll stop nursing and then I promise you that I will let you hold her.”

He nodded his head, yellow eyes flickering down to Eva.

“Is she gonna start teething and still be nursing like that?”

“It just depends on when her teeth start coming in.”

Lambert winced and brought his hand up to his chest as if the thought brought him pain.

He settled with quietly watching her, fascinated by every little noise that came from her and every little move she made.

When Eva was finished nursing, Lambert rubbed his hands along the tops of his thighs and shifted in his spot.

“Can I….?” He trailed off, eyes flickered up to you.

“Yes, my love.” You nodded, moving Eva around so you could safely hand her off to her father. “Come up here and sit next to me. My legs are hurting and I can’t move too well right now.”

Lambert moved to sit by you at the head of the bed. He became as still as a statue as you moved Eva into his arms. His brows drew together softly and his lips parted.

“She’s…. Fuck, Y/N. She’s so tiny.” His voice cracked.

“I know.” You put your hand on his shoulder, smiling at the sight of him holding her. You kissed his shoulder. “She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Looks just like you, bug.”

“I think she’s got your nose.”

“Gods, don’t say that.” He shook his head, sniffling.

You reached over to wipe his cheeks. “She’s too perfect to look like me.”

“Well she’s ours. So she’s gotta have a little of both of us.”

Lambert nodded. His eyes were still focused on her.

“Just wait until Vesemir gets a load of her…. I hope she gives him hell in her toddler years.

Eskel

Your eyes followed Triss as she checked over the baby, ensuring that the tiny newborn was healthy and well. The baby was crying and that worried you, but Triss assured you that it was okay.

“You did amazing.” Eskel murmured, leaning over to kiss your temple. He was sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. Your fingers were still intertwined on the bed by your side. Your skin was clammy and damp with sweat and you were exhausted, but you wanted to hold her, to hold your baby.

“Did you get a good look at her?” You asked. Your voice was raspy. You turned your head to look up at him.

“She looks beautiful.” He nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“She has got a nice set of lungs on her.” Triss moved towards the bed with the baby in your hands. “Have you guys decided on a name yet?”

“Mhm.” Eskel watched you take the baby from Triss. “Nadia.”

“What a stunning name. Very fitting for the little girl.”

You fixed the way you held Nadia, situating your hold on her so that she rested against your bare skin. Her cries died down and she curiously looked up at you.

“I’ll leave you two be for a bit.” Triss took a few steps towards the door. “If you need anything, I’ll be out in the other room.”

Eskel thanked her since you were too caught up in gazing at the beautiful little baby on your chest.

“Eskel.” You reached out with the hand that wasn’t providing her support. Blindly, you found his arm. “She’s…. She’s….”

“She’s beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss your messy hair. “And looks to be a bit hungry.” He chuckled softly as Nadia made a motion with her mouth like she was trying to suck on your skin.

“After she eats, you can hold her.” You told him, moving her so that she could latch onto a nipple.

“Oh I….” Eskel trailed off, shaking his head.

You shifted at the foreign feeling of her latching on, but she seemed to get the hang of it.

“You what?” You looked up at him.

He shifted around to sit with his back more towards you. He looked down at his hands, rubbing them together.

“I think I should wait a little while. Maybe until she’s older at least.” His words were quiet and hushed, but you could hear them just fine now that Nadia was no longer crying.

“What? Eskel, what makes you think that?” You furrowed your brows.

“I just…. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have me hold her when she’s that tiny.”

You watched him for a few moments, unsure that you were even hearing him right. How could he say that? He had been so excited and so eager to hold her throughout your pregnancy and even through labor.

“Eskel, look at me.” You murmured. You wanted to reach out and hold his hand, to touch him and comfort him, but you were busy holding Nadia.

He didn’t turn towards you at first, but then he let out a small breath and turned around so that he could look at you.

“Eskel, you’re her father. There is no reason in the world you should put off holding her.”

His eyes flickered down to watch her, to watch his newborn. She seemed to already be drifting off to sleep.

“What if I hurt her?” He asked, his voice low and timid. “On-On accident, of course. My hands- I-I’m just…. They’re big and the things I’ve done-,”

“You are more than just a witcher, Eskel.” You reminded him, though your words did little to comfort him. The furrow in his brow was still prominent.

You made sure you had one arm securely holding Nadia in place, and slowly pulled your other arm away, making sure she was still comfortable and safe.

You reached over to take Eskel’s hand, placing it on her back. You placed your hand over top of his, gently brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

“You would never hurt her, Eskel. You’ve been so excited since we found out I was pregnant. Please, don’t let those bad thoughts in your head ruin these precious moments you’ll never be able to get back.” You whispered, eyes staying on his face.

He was focused intently on Nadia, golden eyes stuck to her face.

A few silent minutes passed. He kept his hand on her back where you were holding it. He could feel her breathing, hear her little heart beating in her fragile ribcage. It was so different to hear her outside of your stomach, but it was just as comforting.

“Okay.” He nodded.

You smiled, taking your hand away from his so you could reach over and cup his cheek.

Once Nadia was finished nursing, Eskel got comfortable on the bed and you carefully placed Nadia in his arms.

“She’s so light.” He chuckled softly, making sure to keep his voice quiet so as to not scare her. “I can’t believe we…. That she’s…. She’s ours, doll.”

“She is.” You nodded, reaching over to brush your fingers through his dark hair.

Geralt

“Fuck me, Geralt! Look at that little fella!” Jaskier exclaimed, shaking Geralt’s broad shoulder.

“Jaskier!” Geralt hissed his name, not wanting to raise his voice.

“It’s a damn shame he inherited that furrow you’ve got between your brows. Hope he doesn’t have your same bad attitude–,”

“Jaskier, please keep your voice down.” Geralt cut him off, almost speaking through clenched teeth to the bard.

“He’s alright, Geralt.” You smiled. Briefly, you looked up to your husband but then your eyes fell back to the newborn you held in your arms. “He’s a quiet baby, isn’t he?”

“Got that from Geralt too.” Jaskier commented, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was eager to get closer and see his little nephew. “I see he’s got Y/N’s nose though. Thank the gods.”

Geralt glared at Jaskier.

“I know you’d like to hold him, Jaskier. You’re nearly jumping out of your skin, but–,” You were cut off my Jaskier’s excitement.

“I would love to! That is true. However I do think Geralt should hold the little bugger first.” Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I agree.” You smiled at Jaskier. Your eyes flickered over to Geralt. “Come have a seat, love.”

The witcher move to your bedside, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you.

“He’s so small.” Geralt commented. “Is he healthy?”

“He is.” You nodded. “He’ll grow.”

You directed your husband on how to hold his arms and then you placed Bram in his arms.

Geralt looked down at Bram, a little smile tugging at his lips. Bram was fast asleep with his mouth slightly open.

“What’s his name?” Jaskier asked, sitting down next to Geralt.

Geralt over to you, silently asking if you wanted to tell him.

“Go ahead.” You encouraged, reaching out to place your hand on his arm.

“Julian Bram, but we’re just calling him Bram.”

Jaskier repeated the name under his breath, testing out the flow of it and how well it sounded together.

“Julian? As in…. As in my name?”

You nodded while Geralt kept his eyes on Bram.

“That’s so sweet of you, Geralt.” Jaskier put one arm around Geralt’s shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug.

Geralt groaned.

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Nine: Sleep Peacefully

(Image not mine)

Rated: PG

~What story should I tell? Will it end happy, will it turn out well? What dreams do I own? Can I call any place my home?

And I rock myself to sleep, and I tell myself "don't get caught too deep" 'Cause I know by now, you're here for me.

And I tell myself "move along" and I tell myself "you were all wrong" But I know by now, wrong was right for me.

I'll sleep peacefully~

The black paved road of the near-empty highway stretched out in front of us, a stark contrast to the piles of glittering snow that the snowplows had pushed off the street. We had been on the road for 9 hours and were now somewhere in Iowa. The area we were now driving through was so much brighter than Copper Harbor ever was. There wasn't so much as a cloud to be seen in the sky. The last few orange rays of light from the setting sun sprinkled across the landscape as it dipped below the horizon, glittering and reflecting off hills blanketed in white. The sight almost hurt my eyes. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Whipping out my phone I snapped as many pictures as I possibly could, though I knew they would never do justice to the spectacular view.

The sun sank lower and lower and eventually vanished beneath the horizon. Then the stars came out. Scattered across the black velvet sky, they were so numerous it seemed impossible. I could see the differences in colors and size, and I could trace the shape of the Milky-Way. There were no trees or streetlamps lining the Iowa highway and it felt as if I was swimming through inky blackness, like I was swimming between the stars. The glittering lights were so bright and so close. It was special sort of magical.

I rested my elbows on my knees and my head between my hands and stared out the windshield at the beautiful black expanse. On my right, Castiel copied my position.

"Jack tells me you like the stars," he said. Upon hearing his name, Jack briefly looked to me and smiled before turning his gaze back to the window. I had been drifting in and out of conversation with various partners throughout the car ride.

"I do, I love them," I kept my voice soft and my answer simple, "I've never seen so many at once before. I don't think I'll ever get used to it." Castiel smiled softly.

"You know, I am several billion years old, and I am still baffled by the magnificence of this universe. Sights like this, they never get old." I turned my head away from the bright lights in the sky to look at the angel beside me.

"Have you been up there?"

He nodded.

"Yes, I have."

"What's it like?"

Castiel sighed in a melancholy sort of way. I could see the reflection of all those stars gleaming in his eyes.

"It's more beautiful than you can imagine."

I nodded and gazed back out at view of the heavens.

"I wish I could live up there."

Castiel chuckled.

"Someday you might. Who knows what will happen?" He said.

"Yeah."

"However," he added, "As for right now, I think you need to get some rest."

"Nah, sleep is for the weak." At that moment I yawned, emphasizing my point. Dean glanced at me in the rear-view mirror.

"We can pull off and stop at a motel overnight if you need some sleep," He offered. I shook my head and tried to blink away my sleepiness.

"Don't stop on my account! I can sleep in the car," I insisted.

"You sure?" Dean asked. I gave him a thumbs up.

"Oh yeah. I actually sleep better in cars, if you can believe it. Something about the noise and the motion puts me to sleep like a baby, I'm all good." For once I told the truth. I really did sleep better in cars.

"Okay, as long as you're comfy, we've got about eight more hours till' we get there." Dean turned down the volume on whatever album we'd been listening to all day. I'd never been a fan of rock music, but some of Dean's songs weren't that bad.

"We'll try to be quiet for you, Marty," Sam said. I yawned again and rubbed my eyes.

"Thanks guys, for everything. Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I had a good night's sleep."

"You're welcome, kid. This is what we do. Now shut your eyes." Dean mock commanded. I rolled them instead and turned to Jack.

"Jack?" I said to get his attention.

"Hm?"

"What are your feelings on being used as a pillow?" Jack's face was painted with all shades of confusion.

"I-I don't, um, I-" He tried to answer but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"I'm just kidding," I explained. "You don't have a choice in the matter!"

I grabbed his arm and tugged it around my shoulders so I could lay my head on his chest. Jack's entire body stiffened, and he looked to Cas with an expression that said 'Help me, she's doing something weird. Tell me what to do'. Castiel merely shrugged and in the front seat Dean snorted. I chuckled and waited for Jack to shift around a bit and get comfortable before I closed my eyes.

"You're a comfy pillow," I remarked.

"Um, thank you?"

I couldn't see his face, but Jack sounded extremely confused. I decided then that I needed something to hold on to. It took me a few moments to feel around for his arm but when I found it, I gripped his hand and held it up.

"This is mine now."

Wrapping his arm around my waist, I tangled our fingers together and smirked when I felt Jack chuckle and wrap his other arm around me in a way that was friendly and natural.

"If this keeps up, I think we're gonna have to have a talk with Jack about a thing or two." I heard Dean whisper to Sam.

"I heard that."

"Shut up, Mcfly. You're supposed to be sleeping." He scolded, teasingly. I kept my eyes closed but stuck out my tongue at him. I smiled when I heard him laugh.

"Goodnight, guys."

"Goodnight." Dean, Sam and Cas chimed together.

"Sweet dreams, Marty," Jack whispered.

With that, I let myself slowly drift into oblivion's velvet embrace.

***

"Is she asleep, yet?" Dean asked in a whisper, peering in the mirror at the sleeping girl.

"Um, I'm not sure." Jack craned his neck in an effort to find out, but he just couldn't tell.

"I'm trying, Mom," Marty mumbled into Jack's chest. That made him grin.

"From that I'd say, she's close."

"I'm not your mom, Marty," Dean sighed.

"Sorry, dad." She murmured. Dean just shrugged.

"Well, that's a little closer I guess," He said, his lips twitching with a tiny smile.

"Say, Jack, when's the last time you slept?" Sam asked, turning in his seat to face Jack who's face scrunched up as he thought about his answer.

"Four days ago, I think." He replied. Now that he thought about it, Jack realized just how tired he was.

"Dude. Sleep. Now." Dean ordered. Jack blinked a few times and yawned.

"No, I can wait." He yawned again.

"Jack..." Cas pressed.

"I can't go to sleep yet," Jack insisted.

"Why not? Marty back there did it just fine," Dean said.

"Gimmie back my socks, Biden," Marty mumbled.

"See? Out like a flickering lightbulb." Dean joked.

"No, you don't get it. I can't go to sleep, she's right here. She'd think I'm weird or something." Jack worried.

"Well, you're not exactly normal, Jack." Cas muttered under his breath.

"Look, she's the one sleeping on you kid." Dean paused, glancing at the others in the car. "That came out wrong. The point is, she clearly doesn't know the meaning of personal space. Just go for it." He finished, refocusing on the road.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked. Dean's eyeroll was nearly audible.

"Go to sleep, Jack. She ain't gonna care."

Jack nodded.

Snow began to fall on the roof of the Impala with a tip, tip, tipping noise as Jack rested his head atop Marty's. Her hair was soft under his cheek and he matched his breathing with the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

"I love that sound," She sighed, in her half-asleep stupor. Jack guessed she was referring to the sound of the falling snow.

"Me too," he whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off to the same place as the girl beside him.

***

"Jack."

...

"Jack!"

...

"You have got to be kidding me... JACK!"

Jack woke with a start. Blinking rapidly, he attempted to make sense of the world around him. Confusion washed over him as he could have sworn, he had fallen asleep in the Impala next to Marty. But he wasn't there anymore. In fact, he wasn't sure where he was.

Everything was white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. Well, actually this place didn’t really seem to have walls or a ceiling or a floor. It was all just white, stretching off forever. Behind Jack somebody coughed.

"Behind you," They said, sounding rather annoyed.

Jack turned around slowly and cautiously. Standing in front of him now stood Marty. Her tiny hands on her slim hips and her face twisting into a frown that was somehow amused and annoyed at the same time. She raised her eyebrows at him, and her foot tapped rapidly on whatever surface it was that they seemed to be standing on.

"Heya, Jack." Marty smirked.

Jack's eyes shifted nervously left and right. His hand reached up on its own accord to rub at the knot he felt in his chest. He got the distinct impression that something here wasn't right. He planned to figure out what was going on as soon as he could determine where exactly 'here' was.

"Don't worry Jack, it’s just us. Or, I should say, it’s just you," Marty said, clarifying and confusing things for Jack at the same time. Jack shifted his gaze back to the girl in front of him.

"Where are we?" He asked, his brows drawing together. Marty smiled at him pleasantly.

"We're inside your head!" She answered.

"What?" Jack wondered how she could answer his question while giving him so many more at the same time. She giggled a bit at his confused expression. Spreading her arms like wings, she spun in a circle.

"Look around, Jack! It’s so big! You should be proud!" She stopped spinning to grin at him. The line between Jack's eyebrows and his confusion were deepening quickly. Marty tapped her chin and looked upward with a smirk, as if thinking about something. "But we really should both be proud." She mused.

"Marty, what's going on? Are you okay?" Jack took a step towards the girl reaching his hand out. Marty flicked her eyes up and down between him and his outstretched hand, her expression darkened. She held up her hands in a defensive gesture as she took a few sauntering steps back.

"First of all, I'm not Marty," She stated, evenly. Jack's position instantly switched from inviting to aggressive. He bent his knees and widened his stance, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet, readying himself for a fight.

"Who are you?! Where is she?! What did you do to her?!" He demanded. His eyes pulsed with an orange light as he prepared to use his powers. The person in front of him, who apparently wasn't Marty, put a hand on her chest, gasping with obvious mockery.

"You wound me, Jack! You're not even going to ask who I am? I thought we were better friends than this." She closed her eyes and shook her head, sighing in an obnoxious and sarcastic way. Jack wasn't having any of this thing's games. He clenched his teeth and raised his hand threateningly.

"Where's Marty?" He growled, trying his best to imitate Sam, Dean, or Cas when they were in similar positions. The not-Marty just rolled her eyes, like she was bored.

"Yeah, no. We ain't doing that in here." She frowned, waving her hand simply. Jack scowled and tried to blast her back with his power, but he abruptly realized that he couldn't. Nothing was happening. She had taken his powers away. His eyes snapped open wide and he stared at his hand. Now he was the one taking a few steps back.

"W-what? I-" Jack stuttered. The not-Marty crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels, taking on a much more relaxed position.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot here, Jack. Can we start over?" She tilted her head and smiled pleasantly at him before sitting cross-legged on the ground. Jack nodded at her with a distrusting expression but hesitantly copied her position.

"Thank you, Jack. I'm sorry about the attitude earlier, it's just that, with this form you gave me, her personality and came with it and then there was your expectations and perception to deal with, so I had to battle through that. I'm very sorry, but I think we're all good now."

Jack was struck by just how pretty the pleasant smile on her face was and had to remind himself that it wasn't really Marty.

"What do you mean? Who are you?" He asked, expecting another vague and confusing answer. The girl giggled, her laugh sounded exactly like Marty's bubbling, wind chime laugh.

"I'm you, Jack!" She replied, brightly.

"No, you're not- you can't- how can you be me? I don't understand," Jack shook his head, bewildered. The girl giggled again.

"I'm not you you, of course. I'm your conscience! Or your sub-conscious or whatever, really." Jack didn't know what to say. Not-Marty leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. "Ya remember what I said about us being inside your head?" She reminded him.

"So, this is a dream?" He asked. She nodded.

"You could call it that, yes. So, you don't have to worry about Marty. When you wake up, she'll be right were you left her, safe, sound, and all cuddled up in your arms." She wrapped her arms around herself, jokingly. Jack nodded, sighing with relief, now he could figure out the rest of this weirdness.

"If you're my conscience, why do you look like Marty?" Was his next question. The girl claiming to be his conscience shrugged.

"You were thinking about her when you fell asleep. It's that simple." Jack nodded slowly.

"This is confusing," he stated. The girl just nodded.

"It is. Let's make it a little less confusing, shall we?" She stretched her hand out for him to shake, "I'm not Marty so how bout' you call me Cricket?"

"Why Cricket?"

"Like Jiminy Cricket! From Pinocchio!" She cheered. Jack took her hand and shook it firmly, still not completely sure he trusted all she was saying.

"Hello Cricket, it's nice to meet you?" He said, more as a question than a statement.

"It's nice to meet you too, Jack!" Cricket giggled for a moment before sobering up in a snap, "But we need to have a talk," She said, her voice grave.

"About what?" Asked Jack, carefully. Cricket chuckled at his apprehensive tone.

"Relax kiddo, it's not like I'm mad at you!" She reassured him.

"Then why am I here? What do we need to talk about?" Cricket frowned; her expression dark.

"We need to talk about Marty," She said. Jack narrowed his eyes.

"What about Marty?"

"There's something off about that girl, but I don't know what it is," Cricket answered.

"Why not?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you don't know, then I don't know, and we don't know!" She he exclaimed.

"Oh."

"But I'm telling you, all five-foot-two of this," Cricket gestured at Marty's body, "Isn't what it seems." Jack frowned.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, Martina is dangerous," Cricket deadpanned.

"No! She's my friend! She's not dangerous!" Jack protested. Cricket raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Really? How much do you actually know about her? You don't even know her full name," She pointed out, her voice harsh. "She's keeping secrets, Jack."

"No."

"Don't make me the villain here, Jack. You're making me the villain, I'm not!"

"Stop! Get out of my head!" Jack shouted.

"Jack, listen to me. I'm you and I'm trying to protect us!" Jack scrambled to his feet, shaking his head.

"I don't believe you!" The girl in front of him stood too.

"If you won't listen to me, then maybe you'll listen to mom." Then Marty was gone. Standing in her place was Kelly Kline.

"Mom?" Jack whispered he couldn't stop himself inching forward. Kelly opened her arms.

"Jack! Please listen to me, you can't trust that girl. I know she's your friend, but you need to look-" Jack cut her off.

"You're not real!" He said, backing away. In an instant, Kelly was gone, and Cricket came back.

"Fine, suit yourself." Cricket's glared was ferocious and her voice was cruel. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Jack blinked and when he opened his eyes, Cricket was gone.

***

"We should probably wake em' up," Sam whispered as the Impala rounded the turn off on the dirt road that led to the bunker.

"Wait! Cas, do me a favor," Dean said passing his phone to the angel in the back seat, "take a picture of those two." Jack and Marty were still fast asleep. The only thing that had changed in eight hours on the road was that Marty had grabbed a hand full of Jack's shirt. Taking the phone from Dean's hand, Cas snapped three pictures of the sleeping duo.

"Here." He passed the phone back to Dean who took his eyes off the road to observe the pictures.

"Awesome." Dean grinned. "These are going in the black-mail folder."

"In the what?" Sam asked.

"The black-mail folder, Sammy. You don't have one?"

"Uh, no."

"Your loss," Dean shrugged, turning his attention back to driving. The car was quiet for a few minutes.

"So, what's in the black-mail folder?" Sam asked after a bit. Dean smirked at his brother.

"You'll find out," He said, ominously, "Next time I want something, you'll find out."

Sam decided in that moment that he did not want to find out what was in Dean's black mail folder. As the bunker came into view, Castiel reached over and shook the shoulders of the sleeping pair next to him.

"Jack, Marty, we're here," Cas urged, gently. Jack eye's opened and he blinked the tiredness from them, his neck was stiff, so he stretched it out. Marty, however, did not wake nearly as easily.

"Martina." Cas shook her shoulder again.

"Hmm?"

"Wake up."

"Five more minutes." She murmured. Jack chuckled at her antics.

"Marty, wake up. We're home." Marty's big grey eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to look up at Jack.

"Home?" She sighed.

"Yeah, home," Jack said. Marty sat up and yawned, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes.

"Home sounds pretty good."

~What story should I tell? Will it end happy? Will it turn out well? What dreams do I own? Can I call any place my home?

And I rock myself to sleep And I tell myself "Don't fall to deep" Cause I know by now You're not comin' for me

And I tell myself "Move along" And I tell myself "You were all wrong" But I know by now Wrong was right for me

I'll sleep peacefully~

Lyrics from: Sleep Peacefully by Lilly Kershaw

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treatian · 3 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 50: Important Information

The one good thing about Regina abandoning him to run her mysterious errand for Henry was that it gave him the walk down the street from Granny's to his shop to pull out his phone and make a call to Dove.

"You've got a cousin that works in the hospital if I recall, isn't that right, Mr. Dove?"

"You already know that I do. What do you want?"

"For him to look into those in the hospital who have been in comas since the Curse hit."

"I'm assuming you are looking for someone specific."

"That's a fair assumption. You remember Princess Aurora. I believe your courts were close."

"Sleeping Beauty?" he balked with confusion he could hear clearly through the phone. "She was under a Sleeping Curse when the Curse hit us. Stefan died a broken man."

"I'm looking to confirm she's in Storybrooke still under that Curse. I don't suppose you have any evidence to the contrary."

"You mean have I ever seen her in Storybrooke, up and walking around? No, I haven't. Prince Philip either."

"Then it's up to your cousin to locate her. I would assume a girl in a dead sleep like David was would be in the hospital. Start there. Find her, Mr. Dove. I want to know where that girl is."

He didn't say goodbye, just hung up as he approached David and Henry in front of his shop. He fished around in his pocket for his keys and his fingers landed instead over the cell phone he'd meant to give to Belle; a phone that might be exceptionally important in a crisis. Could this be any worse than it was?

"Sleeping any better, Henry?" he asked in a cordial tone as he noted the pendant still around Henry's neck. Lad probably hadn't taken it off since he'd given it to him. In this case, that was a good thing.

"Well…yeah…sorta…I guess," he stuttered as he unlocked the shop and ushered the pair in. "I'm…I'm not afraid anymore when I go into the room, but now…I'm going to have to go back in there, aren't I?"

"No, absolutely not," David assured the boy in a stern but soothing voice.

"It's very likely Henry, yes," he argued, watching David's eyes darken and Henry wince.

"No," his grandfather stated firmly. "It scares him. It's too dangerous. There has to be another way."

"That remains to be seen. So…let's not worry about that for now. Why don't we talk for a bit about what you've seen, what's been said...let's make a plan."

He led Henry and David both into the back room and pulled a chair up by the cot, urging the boy to use the cot, to sit or lay however he felt comfortable.

"Now…your mother says that you've met someone in the Red Room."

"Yes, Aurora, she says she knows my mom and Mary Margaret, that she's with them in the Enchanted Forest."

"I see. Can you describe the woman? Aurora?"

"Yes? It's sort of hard with all the fire. And she's scared. I don't think she has the same control there that I do," he explained, motioning to the vial he wore around his neck.

"I would reckon she doesn't. But try for me. Hair color? Eyes? Height?"

"Brown hair…I didn't really see her eyes and…I don't know, taller than me, maybe…maybe as tall as my grandma." Mary Margaret. It was a description that matched Aurora but also half a million other women.

"And what exactly did you two talk about."

"Not a lot…the flames…" he shrugged.

He nodded in understanding. "Any little thing might help."

"She said that they have a way home."

"Did she tell you what that way was?"

"No, only that it was blocked by my mom's mom."

"Cora." They both uttered together. He took a breath. That was all very disturbing.

"She said that Mary Margaret said you could defeat her, that you'd done it before. They sent me here to get an answer. She'll be waiting for me when I go back under so I can tell them."

Fuck.

He was hoping that in talking to Henry, he might get some more information and make some plans for himself. But the information was nothing. It painted the exact same picture that Regina had. Mary Margaret and Emma were with Aurora in their realm, they had a way back, but no one knew what it was, and Cora was "standing in their way." Whether that meant that Cora wanted to use the way to get to here or was just trying to stop them because she felt like it, he didn't know, but he knew one thing, he wanted her out of the picture. Because if he was honest, he couldn't see Cora working this hard just because she felt like it, which left only one reason as to why she would be doing this. And he didn't like it.

A portal. It had to be a portal. That had to be their plan. How they were planning on waking it up, he wasn't sure, but the boy sounded confident that they had a plan for getting back. The plan for getting back wasn't the problem. It was Cora.

"Standing in their way"…if they had magic, then the Savior might put up a suitable fight for Cora, but as it was, she'd never shown an ounce of the powers she might have had, which meant he couldn't rely on them. But there was one thing he could rely on, one piece of magic he knew was left in the other world that they might have access to and would hold Cora; if it held him, it would hold Cora. If they used it at the right time, when they opened the portal to this world, then it could work. But first, he had to get the message to him. Did he trust Aurora? He wasn't sure. But right now, she seemed to be the only way to get any kind of message to the other side.

"If you are up for it, if you feel like you can, Henry, I think the best thing to do is to deliver a message to Aurora."

"What kind of message?" David questioned.

"Well, if Cora is indeed in between them and their way back, I know of a way to stop her, to keep her from stopping them. There is something left in our world that will do the trick. If we could tell them what it is and where to find it, then it will work on Cora. It'll hold her long enough that they can get through."

"I don't like it." How did he know David was going to make this difficult?

"Which part? The part where you get your wife and daughter back or the part where they don't, and instead Cora comes through because let me tell you, Mr. Nolan, I have dealt with Cora before, and if you think defeating Regina was difficult, Cora makes her look like a walk through a field of roses."

"I don't like using Henry as the messenger boy, not when we're sending him to that place."

"Do you have any better ideas for getting in touch with that realm? Because I've searched for ways to communicate between realms all my life, and I'm here to tell you none exist. This is luck. An anomaly. This is two people in two worlds who, I'm guessing, have awoken at nearly the same time from a powerful Sleeping Curse, granting them both access to the same room in the Netherworld. Once this opportunity passes, it's passed. We can take advantage of it, get them back, and assure ourselves Cora is stuck on the other side, or we can do nothing and wonder if you ever see your wife or daughter again. Those are your options."

"I can do this!" Henry cried from his seat on the cot.

"Henry…" David chided.

"No, see!" Henry suddenly flung his legs over the side of the cot and lay back against the pillow, hands resting on his belly so his fingers could fiddle with the charm he wore. "I'm ready, I can do this…it's no big deal. I'm getting used to it. I've been there before. And Aurora knows me now. We've talked, she'll be looking for me, waiting. I can't let them down. I just have to go back to sleep, and…where…where's my mom?" he asked suddenly as if he'd just now noticed that Regina was missing.

"She went to do something for you," he explained, getting to his feet. "She'll be back, maybe by the time you wake up."

"We'll wait for her," David insisted. "We'll see what she thinks about all of this."

"She already knows…" he assured him.

"And she approves of it?"

"She knows the risk of her mother coming into this world. And she understands that there's a cost to stopping her. I, on the other hand, never thought I'd live to see the day that David Nolan needed the Evil Queen's permission to do anything."

"I don't need her permission. It's just that I'd rather-"

But before things could get more heated, he heard the bell in his front shop ring and felt Regina's magic enter his property. There was no use in arguing anymore. The Evil Queen had arrived.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Henry Mills #David Nolan #Prince Charming #Snow White #mary margaret blanchard #Emma Swan #Cora #Queen of Hearts #Aurora #Snowing #Ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years ago

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Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 6

(Chapter 6: Fools fly where Angels fear to tread...)

Narancia rather liked solo missions.

Sure, a mission with Mista or with Fugo was always a wild time too, most espescially when they got to kick the shit out of someone, then laugh about it, before blasting the shit out of them if the target didn't cooperate.

Those missions were ALWAYS chaotic, VERY explosive, PACKED with action and punctuated by the voices of six shrieking bullets but most of all, they were the most memorable.

Missions with Bucciarati could be a treat, a little on the more rare side however as the man almost always paired himself with Abbacchio when not flying solo (he and the others swore those two were a thing but lacked any evidence to prove that just yet).

Just watching how many times the man could unzip someone to pieces and make unusual objects spill out of their mouth before they finally cracked was just always funny to Narancia. Not to mention, listening to Bruno talk and stir up a plan so easily on the spot was something akin to dazzling in the boys eyes.

It always made him feel like he was invincible and he could feel himself glowing from the inside out when the man praised him for doing a good job, Bucciarati was his hero afterall.

Sometimes he'd even get treated to some gelato afterwards.

Missions with Abbacchio could be fun, being also on the rare side and only sometimes chaotic. Watching Abba beat the absolute shit out of a dirtbag (whether it was their actual target or just some chump who made the mistake of telling the Mafioso that makeup was for Women) was always entertaining, but the mission itself really depended on the Goths mood and their target.

His favorite memories with the stone-faced man however would be when they drove down the highway, blasting some sort of loud and unholy music from a strange screaming punk-rock band Abbacchio liked while sipping on fizzy sodas, whether to or from said mission.

Yes, going on missions with his friends were fun and all.... but he absolutely loved going solo once in a while.

Aerosmith circled overhead, high above the buildings of the street and trailing behind Narancia like a tamed hawk would with its master. Narancia walked the streets casually, keeping his eyes out as he compared the man in the picture he had been given to the other bystanders on the street around him making their morning commute.

Today would be simple enough; find the asshole, get the info out of him where a recent traitor to the Boss was and if he refused to cooperate, use "gentle persuasion".

He hoped it wouldn't come to that of course, he didn't quite like to torture-... er.... "persuade" people himself and hopefully the idiot would be smart enough to know that if he fought and perhaps even got away he'd be hunted down by someone else much, much more powerful than Narancia or even Bucciarati for that matter and be given a more unmerciful and much crueler demise than just being shot by a small bombing plane.

There was an entire organization above their little team afterall. A big, BIG organization of thieves, thugs, hitmen, dealers and Mafiosi alike all working under one Man.

Narancia was quite literally just a snowflake resting on the very tip of an iceberg.

Still, being out on his own was always exciting. It always made him feel important when Bucciarati trusted him with these things.

He could go about things how he wanted it, put his own mind to the test and then proudly brag about his skills when reporting back.

Bucciarati always treated him very well after a successful solo mission of course.

He could hardly contain his excitement when he finally spotted the bastardo ducking into an alley off the street ahead, he couldn't have chose a better place to go in behind because it was right behind the spindly teens favorite Gelato spot.

The stronzo matched the picture alright; olive skin (check), strange yellowish hair thats texture sort of reminded him of rice (double check), scar on the cheek (checkaroo), wonky looking left eye (checkity-checkcheck).

"Bingo." He grinned, casually stuffing his hands in his pockets, tucking away the picture along with one, as he shuffled down the street. That intel was already as good as his.

The only thing he had to worry about now was what flavor Gelato he was in the mood for when this was all over.

☆☆☆

Once in his life Josuke believed that there was absolutely nothing better in this world than treating yourself to some Icecream on a warm sunny day.

Now however, he knew better.

Because if there was anything better than that, it was treating yourself to some Gelato on a warm sunny day in Italy.

Christ, he never knew how rich and smooth this frozen dairy treat could be.

All this time, he and Okuyasu had been scammed into being sold the now seemingly regular-old-not-at-all-exciting Icecream when he could've been tasting this absolute delicacy all along?!

He felt like he had been robbed, cheated even, dare he say betrayed, his whole life and didn't realize it until now!

The place he had stopped at wasn't quite like the shop he frequented back in Morioh before school on Monday either, not a cheep little stand on the sidewalk where you grabbed your cone and had no choice but to keep walking for fear of the guy running the place shoving you along with a broom for "loitering", this place was a store in itself and right out in the open too!

A sea of flavors and colours coating the entire counter, all scrumptious frozen dairy treats that absolutely dazzled the eye.

It was like finding an Oasis out in the scorching desert to someone who was dying for something sweet and cold on such a hot day like today.

They even had an area out front of the counter to sit and enjoy everything. The tasty treat, the sights and sounds and smells of the streets and all.

Italy just kept getting better and better by the second.

'Why on earth would someone ever leave here? Or even want to leave here?' The teenager couldn't help but wonder as he finished the last delectable lick of his Vanilla Gelato.

Tonio was always very vague on the topic of his move from Naples to Morioh and usually didn't say more than a simple "I wanted to fulfill my dream!" Or "I needed to see the world!" Before quickly changing the subject to his food and the art of his cooking.

None of them ever pressed the man for the details but now that he was experiencing this place and all its wonders himself, Josuke found himself wishing that he did know why Tonio left.

Maybe one day he'd be lucky enough, or perhaps close enough to the man at least, to find out....

A low hum rang in his ears, coming from right overhead.

His metaphorical thought-bubble was promptly popped with the sharpness of the noise and his attention was ripped away from his reminiscing of Home.

It sort of sounded like-

"A plane?" He muttered to himself, bringing a hand over his eyes and squinting to block out the bright golden sunshine of the late morning.

A tiny little red spot circled overhead, for something so small it puttered really loudly. No one else around seemed to notice it however.

It flew closer into his sights, it was a plane alright with wings a propeller and everything.

It swerved through the air, rolling over once as it sharply turned and disappeared behind the building suddenly with an almost obnoxious whirr.

Was it a toy? He had seen some pretty sweet remote control toy cars and helicopters much like that plane before when passing toy shops or flicking through store magazines that came with the loads of junkmail every week.

He glanced around, hoping to spot the kid who might be holding the remote control (he wouldn't admit aloud that he wanted a turn with it if you perhaps asked him).

'Not a toy.' Came a voice from the corner of his mind, he could feel the phantom of Crazy Diamond standing by his side, though not manifested. 'That was a stand, I could feel its energy.'

In an instant, Josuke was out of his seat, his eyes growing more and more huge by the second as he remembered Moody Blues and all their glory from yesterday.

Another stand? And a special one at that! Non-Humanoid stands were even cooler than the normal ones. And this one was a PLANE!

He looked around, no obvious signs of a user from what he could see, the streets held a few passerby's but nobody seemed focused on the stand like he was, so presumably the plane was following them into the alley?

"Oh wow!" Josuke whispered in excitement. "I gotta take a closer look!"

He would never forgive himself if he never saw the little plane again without finding the wielder of it. He started off down the street, turning into the alley, keeping his ears open and his eyes on the sky.

☆☆☆

"I'm tellin' ya kiddo, I don't know nothin'!" Osso Bucco, a much taller and more built man in size than Narancia, said putting his hands up with a helpless smile. "I don't even know what you're askin' about."

Narancia rolled his eyes, folding his arms as he glared down the man. They had been going back and forth for a few minutes and this was just getting tiring.

"Yeah sure, you don't dipshit." He snapped. "So I'm gonna help you jog your memory."

Osso was always a man of keeping himself in check, keeping your cool was a sure fire way to getting out of a mess like this.

He knew this spindly little shit was a stand user under that damned Passione but as long as he kept himself calm, he would be walking away without a worry and could get back to helping his new Boss organize some things.

Starting a rival Organization was tough under the threat of the one already in motion but as long as he stuck to the plan, his Boss assured him everything would work out in the end.

Osso liked to follow a stronger side afterall, it was just the way you survived out on these streets.

The beefy man barely even twitched when a deep puttering whirr came just inches about his head, clenching his hands into fists when a little plane hovered at Narancia's side, the teenager already had his radar out over his eye.

"I'm gonna ask you again, cazzone. What. Is. His. Name?" Narancia growled out, giving it his all to seem like a brooding threat (all his time watching Abbacchio being his bitter self really helped with that) as Aerosmiths gun turrets appeared, locking right onto its target.

It seemed like a neat trick, having a working plane at your own whim and all, but Osso knew he had an even better one up his sleeve.

Or rather... set in stone.

The corner of his lip twitched as the unmistakable vibrations of oncoming footsteps passed through the stone beneath his feet, someone was headed this way, a street rando was now at his disposal.

This was going to be easy for him to give the runt a slip. Chances were this little stronzo probably didn't even know shit about Earth Angel, the stand of his own possession.

His Boss ensured the discreet nature of all his workers, most especially their abilities.

"Y'know kid. You shouldn't be playin' with guns." The big man said as casually as he could, keeping his hands raised as he waited with all the patience in the world to feel the footsteps come within his range. "You could end up hurtin' someone."

Narancias brow twitched, he had him now.

Ossos lips curled up, it was time.

☆☆☆

Josuke had barely rounded the corner before suddenly, his foot caught on something.

Or rather... something caught his foot.

The teenager fell forward, right down into the hard stone pavement, skinning his hands in the process as he yelped.

For a split second he thought he had tripped over his own feet in his hurry (he knew he was clumsy afterall), but nothing could prepare him for when he rolled over to see a hand made of stone stretching out of the very ground, fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle.

He tried to scream but it barely came out, turning into more of a loud inarticulate grunt, and frantically tried to pull his leg from the hand in blind panic.

The fingers crackled as they tightened into even more of a vice-like grip, they were hard like any rock but undeniably humanoid and mobile.

The hand pulled and Josuke clawed at the ground in a momentary desperate attempt to fight back.

He realized that the pavement was swallowing him up suddenly, not like he was falling down a hole but akin to being dragged into water, the hand pulling him further and further down.

His final cry was drowned out as he was swallowed whole by the stone, along with the last bit of sunlight he could see.

His hand was the last thing in sight to the world around him before he vanished completely.

☆☆☆

Narancias head snapped in the direction of the sound of someones voice coming down from towards the end of the alley, leading out to the street.

Someone had screamed, almost as if crying out for help but it had cut off suddenly. Narancia blanched at the feeling of a shiver creeping up his spine, the deafening silence that followed was absolutely haunting.

His focus faltered for a moment, alarm bells ringing in his head as he realized someone was in danger.

His focus snapped onto place again as Osso began to laugh. Narancia opened his mouth to yell for his stand to fire at will before jumping back, the command dying in his throat as a figure shot straight up from the ground between them, effectively blocking Osso.

Two figures that was.

Josuke had no absolutely idea what in the Hell was happening once again. One second he was running, next he was on the ground, then he was underground and now he was here?!

He squirmed, the realization his arms were pinned tightly at his sides hitting him as he tried to scream again, only to have a hand made of stone clamp tightly over his mouth.

Narancia gaped, staring in shock at the squirming teenager trapped in the vice-like embrace of a tall Angelic statue.

Earth Angels expression was stoic, somehow bearing that sweet sadness feeling of nostalgia when looking upon a carved memory of an ancient one in the soft, yet chiseling, features of its stone face and body.

The way it moved was almost mesmerizing, so mobile and unstiff as if it were completely human but carried that hard and undeniable look of stone, the sound of rock grating and clicking as it moved.

"Now, ya'wouldn't want to be shootin' a kid now, would ya?" Osso grinned, peering around the neatly tucked concrete wings of his stand to take a look at the helpless Josuke, whose eyes were darting around frantically in wide sockets.

"You BASTARD!" Narancia roared, clenching his fist as his chest started to burn with rage.

He hated this cheep fucking move, it was nothing but cowardness to have to threaten the life of an innocent and unaffiliated person just to make a quick getaway.

It happened only a few times to him on a mission, but only when he had been with one or two of the others, and they barely succeeded each time.

Once there had been a VERY close call, where their target threatened to throw a lady he held hostage off a bridge. Thank goodness for zippers and the portals it opened that day.

But that was then and this was now.

And Narancia was all alone.

The young Mafioso tried to move, ready to pounce on the fucker himself so he could get out of that poor confused teenagers way and get a clear shot at his ugly mug, but stumbled slightly.

His violet eyes went wide as he looked down at his own legs.

They were becoming one with the ground, rooted to the very spot he stood but worst of all, turning to stone.

It was almost up to his knees now, his legs looking very much like he had gotten the great Michelangelo himself to carve him a set of ampute limbs.

He whimpered unconsciously as the stone started to creep higher, he could feel a horrible stiffness in his knees and thighbones already, worse than any arthritis he may ever experience in his later years.

That spindly boy, the weilder of the little plane, was in trouble. Josuke knew this and his heart screamed for him to do something, however Earth Angels grip was powerful and unrelenting.

The soft grating of stone clicked close to his ear as the statue turned its head to look at him with its pupiless half-lidded eyes, their soft carved expression never changing.

If he wasn't being attacked by it, he might've actually been comforted by the ethereal beauty perfectly captured in marble they radiated.

Josuke knew he had to stay calm and focused. Whoever this big guy controlling the statue was, he seemed like bad news.

He now fully knew how that poor lady being held hostage felt that time he and Okuyasu witnessed that convince store being robbed.

The plane started to circle by Narancias command, looking for a place to open fire on Osso.

However, the alley was very narrow and there was no open space for the stand to make a full circle, forcing Aerosmith to have to fly up one end and round back quickly.

Josuke almost screamed again as it came barreling back down the alley, gun turrets ready, before the statue moved (dragging Josuke along with it) to block the man from his exposed side once more.

If Narancia hadn't reacted half a second before he did, Josuke would've been packed full of bullets.

"Nice try, kiddo." Osso grinned. "You don't give up, but you ain't gonna win today."

The teenage Mafioso now started to scream as stone crept up his body more and more, faster by the second. It was up to his hips now and starting at the tips of his fingers as well.

Josuke watched in silent terror of it all, his heart wrenching a little as Narancia actually started to cry.

Josuke wracked his brain, trying to formulate a plan, readying to summon Crazy Diamond at his side. Maybe he could break the statue and then get a good shot at the asshole pulling the strings for torturing this other kid.

Narancia Ghirga was sure he was going to die and he didn't want to die, he really REALLY didn't! There was so much stuff he still wanted to do with Fugo and Mista and Abba and Bucciarati!

A thousand things flooded his head as he stared in utter terror down at his marble legs.

Mista still owed him a soda. He had tutoring with Fugo at 3:00 today. Abbacchio had promised him he'd teach him how to properly do make-up. He was going to show Bucciarati the Sailor Moon series this weekend.

He wished Bruno had paired him up with someone, he really did, because he couldn't do this on his own.

He needed help.

He desperately needed his Family!

And worst of all, this other kid was gonna die too! Narancia bit back a sob as the very thought of it came to mind.

"You're gonna be one hell of a statue kiddo." Osso laughed cruelly, indulging in Narancias loud reactions almost as much as he enjoyed watching him continue to try and shoot him. "Ya got no choice now, if you keep tryin' shit, it'll just go faster. Or worse, the freak with the mop gets it."

Josuke froze solid, the plan he had been trying to scrap up his head suddenly getting wiped clean from the slate.

The world around him seemed to slow and the sounds of the lean teenager crying out in fear deafened as his ears rang.

His heart started to pound, thumping so hard in his chest you could see it rattling his collarbone.

What did he just say?

What did that fucking piece of shit just say?

Josuke was unaware of his teeth grinding painfully in his mouth, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles shined white, his own face burning hot red like a knife that had been thrust into fire.

'He called your hair a mop.' Came the bitter answer, whispered in his head.

The soft grating of stone in his ear as Earth Angel turned its head to stare at him again wasn't heard to Josuke.

Osso had even stopped laughing, tilting his head to listen closely to the low growl the kid was emitting, that animalistic look in his unfocused blue eyes made him raise his eyebrows in question.

What the fuck was wrong with this weirdo?

Narancia had even stopped screaming, the dread he felt now forgotten as he watched with apprehension and interest.

Oh shit... he had definitely seen this before.

This guy was MAJORLY pissed off.

Far, FAR too many times had be been on the receiving end of this look with Fugo before to know what exactly was happening.

There was practically steam coming out of his ears, this stranger was going to blow! The sight of a bright fire emitting off the pompadour sporting teen almost didn't phase him because it fit how fucking pissed he looked.

'He called my hair a fucking mop...' came the only thought and it rang in his head over and over. 'HE CALLED MY HAIR A FUCKING MOP!!!'

Josuke didn't see. He didn't hear. He didn't think.

He didn't even feel it when his own fists tore through stone.

[To be continued ...》

(Like what you're reading? Find the rest on Archive of our own! 🙂)

#Diamante d'Italia #josuke higashitaka

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imaginepirates · 5 years ago

Text

Belonging

For @wxntersouljapods. The reader is a stowaway who gets caught by the crew. Jack allows them to stay, but gives them the offer to leave and make a life for themselves somewhere else.

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

Your breathing sounded too loud in your ears. Footsteps echoed in the open room, and gruff voices filled most of the space. They couldn't hear you. They didn't know you were there.

You heard someone pull the top off of a barrel. Your eyes were open, but useless; everything was pitch black to you. You hoped your barrel was far enough in the back that nobody would check it. All these men were looking for was a snack or a drink, right?

You were willing to bet that pirates didn't routinely check through their food stores. What should have been a barrel full of dried meat did not, in fact, contain any. It contained live meat, and that live meat was you. You knew how hungry sailors could get at sea, and hoped that if you were found, they wouldn't opt for cannibalism.

You were a stowaway. Running away from an abusive household and an empty life in Tortuga, you'd stashed yourself on the most promising ship. It was a huge but graceful vessel with black sails and made of dark wood. You figured that none of your family would follow you onto a ship with such a reputation.

You knew the ship well; it stopped in Tortuga every few months, restocking its provisions and entertaining the men on board. You had a feeling it could suck any other city dry of rum.

All the poor children went out to watch it dock and depart. Dark legends surrounded the vessel. Supposedly, it had been captained by ghosts once. Some said it still was. There was a rumor that it had been recovered from the depths by means of witchcraft after having been burned. The tales ranged from horrifying to ridiculous.

You were more than willing to lead a more exciting life, one away from home. You loved stories of adventure, and now you were finally in one. Admittedly, it was less action-packed than you figured your first adventure would be. In all truth, it was a little scary.

Every night, when no light entered the hull, you slipped out of your barrel with nothing to see by. You opened other barrels, feeling around inside them for what they held. You took as much food as you thought you'd need the next day. Then, you returned to your crate, trying to find a comfortable position.

The days were boring. You had nothing to do, and you couldn't move. It was hard enough to live in a small house, but when confined to a barrel, life was dismal.

You passed your time by sleeping. It was the only thing you could do besides worrying incessantly, and at least you couldn't feel your discomfort while asleep.

The dull thud of another barrel top being shoved to the floor reminded you that you weren't alone. The shuffling of feet was, inch by inch, getting closer. If the pirates got any nearer, you feared they would find you. You didn't want to know what would happen if they did.

You'd played the scenario out in your head a hundred times. Your brain came up with all sorts of awful things that could happen to you. You could be killed, or raped, or strung up from a mast and left to swing upside down from your ankles. All were unsavory options.

You held your breath. Someone was standing right next to you, and you imagined them reaching out to take the lid off your barrel. You could practically see it. You tried convincing yourself that he was faced in the other direction. It didn't work; fear won out.

You sat completely still for a few minutes while the men talked amongst themselves. You sent out silent prayers, but could hardly concentrate over the fear gripping your chest.

Just as you were convincing yourself to relax, light blinded you. You blinked up into the daylight. Shocked faces stared down at you. There were two men hovering over your barrel, and both of them looked confused. Realization dawned on one of their faces.

"A stowaway!" He said softly.

Your neck craned up at an odd angle to look at them. Fear flooded your chest; you recalled everything you'd heard about this ship and wondered what tortures the crew had in mind for a young girl.

Now, there were more people looking at you. You felt like some horror in a curiosity shop. You desperately wanted to escape their gaze, but you were stuck in the middle of them all. You couldn't run; a ship wasn't that big. They'd find you again eventually.

"Would you like some help out?" The man's voice was strangely soft. Bending to look at the source, you noticed that it wasn't a man at all. A dark skinned woman stood over you, a floppy hat obscuring her face. She held a hand out to you which you gratefully accepted.

Standing in the barrel, you took a look at the people around you. They were certainly an odd mix, but contrary to everything you had been told, they didn't seem frightening in the least.

One of them stood no higher than your chest. He looked up at you with squinty eyes. Another man, an older gentleman with a grey beard, stared at her without making a sound. There was the woman, too, who stood with a hand on her hip and lips downturned in a way that said she was slightly inconvenienced.

Your feelings of dread were slowly dissipating. The three pirates didn't look like they had the slightest idea what to do with you. You all spent a good while staring at each other, waiting for someone to talk.

When you moved to step out of the barrel, they let you. You stretched, and they watched, staying quiet the whole time.

Finally, the girl spoke. "We should take her on deck."

This seemed like a satisfactory conclusion, because the short man awkwardly took your arm. There was no force behind his touch; it was like he was deciding whether or not you were a prisoner.

You were escorted up to the deck. At first, nobody noticed you. Slowly, heads turned, and expressions changed from neutral to confused as the crew noticed that you were a stranger.

A man in a turban stepped up to you. "Who is this girl?" He asked.

The others shrugged, letting you introduce yourself. "I'm Y/N," you said in a little voice.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm…running away from home."

There was a moment's pause. "Someone should get Jack," said the man in the turban.

"I'm not doing it." This was the woman, and she looked disgusted. "I'm not dealing with him."

There were murmurs of agreement as people avoided the task. More people were staring at you now, making you feel uncomfortable. Whoever this 'Jack' was, he must be terrifying. The entire crew didn't want to fetch him.

"Gibbs!" Someone called. "Go fetch Jack."

A bewildered looking man with mutton chops gazed out over the crowd. His mouth moved as if he was going to speak, but he turned and headed off towards the back of the ship.

"Who's Jack?" You asked timidly.

"Our captain," said the woman. "Though a lot of good that does us." Her voice dropped with sarcasm. "Right now, he's asleep and horribly hungover. That's why nobody wants to deal with him. He can be a real pain in the ass."

"Oh." You thought the captain was supposed to be the terror of the Caribbean seas.

"I'm Anamaria." She stuck out her hand, and you took it. "That's Marty," she pointed at the short man, "and that's Mr. Cotton. He's mute; his parrot talks for him."

You didn't know what to say. You'd already told them your name. It was a peculiar group of people. None of them seemed normal in the slightest. It definitely didn't seem like the crew of horrors you'd heard about.

Instead of speaking, you nodded. You were a little dazed that nobody had harmed you. These people seemed…friendly, almost.

Motion up ahead caught your attention. A man was staggering about, a bottle still in hand. "Who dares wake me?" He hollered.

He definitely wasn't what you'd been expecting. People always talked about captains as if they were big-bellied, loud, cruel men who liked to prey on young girls. This didn't seem to be the case.

This man was lean with a wiry build. His voice was loud, but only because he was shouting. You suspected the alcohol wasn't helping the back of his throat. He didn't look cruel; you'd have to find that out for yourself. As for the part about preying on women, you hoped you wouldn't have to discover it the hard way.

Judging by the unimpressed looks from the crew, he didn't have any of the rumored traits. He staggered closer and almost fell over. When he'd gotten near enough, you could see how hard he was squinting at your face.

"And who," he slurred, "is thissss…thiss wench?" He held onto each 's' like a hissing snake.

"A stowaway." Anamaria announced.

"A stowa-stow-st… why are you on my ship, lassie?" He turned his attention toward you.

"Running away from home, Captain."

He looked thoughtful. "I'm going back to bed. I'll deal with it when I wake up." With a nod, he stumbled away.

~~~~~

You occupied yourself by sitting on a barrel near the rail of the ship You watched the crew at work, the rolling ocean, and the door of the captain's cabin. You were wary of when he'd come back out. You were dreading the encounter, really. After all, he had the final say on what to do with you, and he could have you dumped into the ocean. Or stranded on an island. Or used as target practice.

Your imagination was at it again. Really, you wished it would leave you alone. It was no use thinking up disastrous situations. You wouldn't know the verdict until he gave it to you himself.

The hours wore on into late afternoon. Most of the crew had introduced themselves. They were the least intimidating bunch of people you'd ever met.

"What about all the rumors I've heard?" You asked Anamaria. "About this ship?"

"All true, every last one of them. However, they're outdated. The ship has changed both captain and crew since then."

"And now?"

"Now, we sail, searching for mystical items Jack wants to find. We talk with witches. We get into trouble with island tribes. We're the bane of the government because we're a minor nuisance that always slips away from them. Jack is good at avoiding conflict."

"So, you're mainly just adventurers who call themselves pirates?"

"We are pirates," she said defensively.

"It doesn't sound like you do much pillaging to me."

She paused, looking frustrated. "We don't."

Just then, Jack stepped out of his cabin. He was more steady on his feet, and he scanned the deck for you. Finding you, he sauntered over, looking you up and down with dark eyes.

"The stowaway. Does she have a name?" He gave you a pointed look.

"Y/N." You introduced yourself for what felt like the thousandth time that morning.

"Y/N." He repeated the name a few times, rolling it around on his tongue as if to get used to it. It made you a bit uncomfortable. He was…eccentric. That you could tell already. "It's a good name," he said.

"Thank you?"

"What use can you make of yourself on board my ship?"

"What?" You'd never even been on a ship before. You couldn't possibly be of any help.

"Can you cook? Can you clean? If you can't tell," here, he leaned in a little, wiggling his fingers in your face, "I'm not exactly working with a full crew. It puts some strain on things."

"Oh." You hadn't thought of that. "I can do both of those things, actually."

"Wonderful. I'll put you to work right away." He nodded, leaving you to Anamaria's instructions.

The days wore on. Not only were people nice, but they were helpful, showing you where things were and how to do certain tasks. They complimented your cooking, saying you could work miracles with the food. It was, after all, dry and preserved. Ships could only carry nonperishable foods. They were never any good.

You felt generally accepted by the crew. They didn't sneer, or make fun of you, or ignore you. You were included in all activities.

Jack often stood at the helm, providing directions with his compass. He was such an odd man, you didn't see how he could ever be accepted as a captain. It was only when you listened to the stories about him that you understood.

Jack took the crew on great adventures. Even if they didn't end in profit, the crew had a good time, and memories were made.

A few days in, Jack invited you to dinner in his cabin. There were sniggers from all the crew members, but you accepted his invitation despite your embarrassment.

Jack hadn't been able to decide what direction to sail in for days. You thought it curious. Didn't he know where he was going?

"I hope this dinner clears up his mind," Anamaria shouted. "I don't want to be stuck drifting aimlessly for too long."

There were scoffs, and multiple odd looks, but you tried not to pay attention. Your mind was wandering to what the dinner would be like. You didn't know what to expect. Jack was so strange, anything could happen.

You felt bad for a lack of fresh clothes. You'd worn the same outfit for days on end, and you figured you smelled awful. You pulled at your hair to no avail. Clearly, it would have to stay messy.

You slipped into his cabin that evening. He let you in with a slight bow, which you found amusing. There was no need to feign propriety around a Tortuga girl.

He sat you down at a small table that had been drug to the center of the room. Other unidentifiable objects had been shoved against the walls to make room. You sat on a rickety stool that was missing a leg. The ship suffered from a lack of working objects.

The dinner wasn't comprised of anything special. It seemed that Jack ate no better than his crew. He did, however, pull out a nice looking bottle of wine.

"Do you plan on getting me drunk?" You asked.

"It does make the food taste better," he said.

You smiled. You couldn't fathom why Jack had invited you to dinner. You were afraid he was going to drop you off at the next port, and he was telling you it was your time to leave.

Instead, he asked about your life before running away. "You said you were running away." He absentmindedly tapped his bread against the table, checking for bugs. "What from?"

You didn't know how to answer the question. "People," you said.

"The authorities?" Now, he looked rather interested.

"No." You shifted uncomfortably on the stool, which creaked under you. "From my family."

In the time you had spent on the ship, not once had Jack looked serious. Now, he was sobered and grim. He nodded. "Sometimes we aren't meant to live at home."

You wondered at that. It was possible that you truly weren't. What, you asked yourself, had Jack been through that he would know the feeling?

"We won't be making port for a while. Tortuga is our usual stop, and I doubt you want to get off there."

You shook your head. You definitely didn't want to end up back in Tortuga. "Where will we stop?"

"I make no promises, love. But I suspect somewhere in Spain."

Spain sounded exciting. The people from home told stories about Spain. "What for?" You asked. There were so many things to see in the world, you realized.

"They say the Holy Grail lies there."

"What do you need that for?"

His eyes flashed with desire. "Immortality."

"Sounds lonely," you said.

"What do you mean?" His nose twitched.

"You'd always be losing people."

"I'd find some new ones."

"I don't think that's how it works." You certainly didn't want to outlive your friends. Not that you had any, really, but you'd make some.

He cleared his throat. "My point is: will you be leaving us or no, savvy?"

You considered. You liked the crew, and work wasn't too bad, considering you were given the necessary but easy and menial tasks. "I don't know. I'll make up my mind when we arrive, I suppose."

"Fair."

"The crew tells me about all the adventures you've taken them on." You looked at your empty plate, flushing. "I've always wanted to go on adventures. I might stay, just for that. Am I on one now, do you think?"

He hummed his assent. "And I could take you on lots more, love. Lots more." He leaned in a little, tilting your chin up with a finger.

It took all your self-control not to squeak. He was certainly close, and the smirk on his face wasn't helping your embarrassment.

The night continued. You chatted idly. You didn't get drunk, but you were pleasantly flushed by the time you decided to leave.

You turned to go, but Jack set a hand on your shoulder. His expression was serious again, and you tensed. "Family isn't always the people who share your name. Family cares." He gazed into your eyes, unblinking. "We can be your family. This crew."

"The captain, too?"

"Him too, love."

You smiled weakly. "Thank you." You pressed a light kiss to his cheek. You took a moment to gauge his reaction, hoping you hadn't overstepped your place.

He turned red, but a smile tugged at his lips. Gently, he cupped the back of your head with a hand, the other resting just below your chin. He smelled- and tasted- like wine when he gave you a slow kiss.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he murmured against your lips.

"Goodnight, Jack." It was more of a sigh than actual speech.

Jack decided which direction to travel the next day, but that didn't keep him from asking you to dinner again. And again. After all, he couldn't direct the ship while distracted.

You decided to stay. The adventure was appealing, but there were other things, too. You belonged somewhere. You weren't about to give it up.

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #writing #fanfic #requests #request #drabble #x reader

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