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p-antomime · 3 years

Text

just so fine.

— minors don’t interact

— wc: 4,7K

content + warnings: 18+, including: dilf!toji, manhandle, spitting, daddy kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of school girl!reader maybe, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, age gap, a bit of size kink, thigh riding

pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

— note: this is a bit inspired by: Love Without Tragedy by Rihanna. — jjk masterlist.

Red lipstick and a broken heart trying to be concerted by the petals of your conscience and your friends who said that "he didn't deserve you anyway". And honestly, you didn't know where exactly you were getting the strength from to get out of bed that Monday and go take a shower before heading painfully to your first class in the morning.

He used to be the boy you loved with every cell of your body and soul, he stole the best years of your freshman life at the university, and now you were a senior who had neither the animation nor the patience to welcome the incoming freshmen that year. Despite having Kugisaki and Megumi fervently cheering you on while Itadori was too busy still dealing with the problem of sending documents to the college, your heart was still fatally wounded and your dignity no longer existed as your tears had wiped it off the face of the earth during that morning shower and you couldn't help but be tempted to put on makeup good enough to mask your dark circles under your eyes and downcast face.

"Are you coming today?", Nobara asked excitedly on the other end of the line as you were already leaving the house and taking the long way to college.

— Do I have the option of not going?

"No, of course not.", Nobara replied with a slight laugh that was well intended to cheer you up a bit, "We can have a movie night tonight, to cheer you up."

— At whose house? At mine that won't be, it's a mess. — You grumbled.

"At Megumi's or Itadori's, of course. During lunch I'll buy soda and food with Yuuji and you convince Megumi to let us break into his house today.”

— Why do I have to convince Megumi? You came up with the idea.

"Because I'll be busy, simple. And Fushiguro doesn't take me seriously.", and then you sighed heavily, already noticing that you were less than a block away from entering the college grounds.

— Okay, I see what I can do.

Kugisaki told you that she was waiting for you in the classroom, and you replied that you were already there. And then something distinctive caught your attention. It was strangely easy to spot something different in the landscape of the university entrance because usually it was always the same: university students rushing to settle personal matters or to classes they are late for, or also students who came to see what the college was like before the university application period.

But today was different. There was a tall man fully dressed in black and gray leaning against a motorcycle that looked as if it had been taken from an action movie because it was so well equipped and large. He looked relaxed, and yet he still possessed an aura that could kill you with a single punch. Attractive and devilishly dangerous with that leather jacket highlighting his strong arms and broad shoulders. Forcing your eyes a little, you could notice a scar close to one of the corners of his lips.

— What's the matter, little girl? — His deep voice reaches your ears, but your mind whispers to you that he probably wasn't talking to you at the same time that your heart starts to beat out of control and your head turns from side to side trying to check if there is someone behind you. — Yeah, I'm talking to you. — He smiled sideways.

— Uh... hmm... none, sorry. — Your cheeks started to heat up and you wanted to punch yourself in the stomach because usually a simple man couldn't disconcert you like that, and then your eyes fell on his collarbones, well marked by the black shirt he wore under his jacket, and your mouth suddenly felt too dry.

— What exactly are you apologizing for? — The man asked as he placed one of the helmets on the motorcycle seat, if there were two helmets maybe he brought some college girl? — For eating me with your eyes or staring at me? — And then you choked on your saliva and coughed desperately for air trying not to drop the folders in your hands and he seemed amused by your reaction.

— I-I... — Your fingers squeezed the folders and you had to look away to think straight. — I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn't mean to.

— I am not, it's great to be lusted after by younger girls. — He replied, but before he had a chance to continue his onslaught someone approached from the diagonal.

— Dad! — And then you choked again seeing that the one who was referring to the man in front of you as "dad" was Megumi. — Oh, Y/N? — He looked confused looking from you to his own father. — Anyway, they didn't have what you wanted at the pharmacy, next time you'll buy it yourself. — The young Fushiguro spoke to the older man, but seconds later, noticing the mortifying silence that settled over the place as you stared at his father, he spoke up: — And we are almost late already, let’s go, Y/N. — Megumi took one of your arms and started to guide you away from the motorcycle and closer to the interior of the college.

— You never told me you were interested in girls. — His father shouted more to embarrass his son than you, but the effect was the opposite, since you were the one with the burning cheeks.

— Shut up, Toji. — Megumi shouted back as he continued walking. — Did he say shit to you? — He asked you when the two of you were already walking down the halls to your classroom for the first class of the morning.

— Not really, no. He seems... fine. — You tried to talk as if you didn't have dirty thoughts running through your mind especially after remembering the older man's collarbones and scar, and still Megumi gave you an accusing look.

— Don't try to fuck my father, that's disgusting. - Your eyes widened.

— I wasn't thinking that, you idiot. — And then Megumi let out a loud laugh.

— I know, I was just trying to amuse you. — He shrugged and left you standing in front of the door. — See you at lunch?

— Yes, of course. — You answered, and then suddenly remembered Nobara's request on the phone earlier. Your hand held one of his arms so that he wouldn't walk away without listening to you. — Megumi, can we have a movie night at your place tonight? Nobara came up with the idea of doing this to cheer me up a bit. — He seemed to become suddenly tense.

— I'll have to at least let Toji know that there will be people coming home today. — Megumi answered vaguely and shrugged. — I'll send a message to Kugisaki and let her know if it's on or off.

Nodding your head positively, you gave your friend a slight smile, and then for the rest of the day your mind concentrated on paying attention to your classes, your scheduled seminars and the pile of work you still had to do. There was no time for your heart to pound with grief over the loss of your now ex-boyfriend, but there were several minutes when you had to chase away persistent thoughts of Megumi's dad. But looking at him wasn't enough, your hands wanted to explore his body and leave marks everywhere, that's what you thought until you felt ashamed, pushed the thoughts away for a few brief minutes and then thought about it again. In a vicious loop.

When you were having lunch with Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, your head tried to focus on their conversation as much as possible, but looking at the man with black hair and beautiful eyelashes reminded you of Toji and your hands started to break into a cold sweat. It had been a frustrating, tiring day, but secretly you were a little excited to see your friend's father again.

— Don't take too long, okay? — Nobara spoke after dropping you off and leaning against the hallway wall, and you nodded positively before going to your room to pack a backpack with some pajamas and an outfit in case you and the other two friends ended up falling asleep while you were at Megumi's house.

It didn't take long before you two were ringing the doorbell of the Fushiguro’s house and from the loud sound from inside the house you both could tell Yuuji had already arrived. Suddenly, Y/N felt nervous not knowing who would answer the door. Would it be Toji? "Damn", you thought as you saw exactly him calmly opening the door. This time he wasn't wearing very dark clothes, it was just gray sweatpants and a white v-neck shirt that still highlighted his beautiful collarbones.

— Is that them? — Itadori shouted from another room in the house.

— Yes. — Megumi, who was looking at the two girls standing in the doorway over Toji's shoulder, answered. — You may come in.

Toji moved to the side letting you two into the house and, using the personal excuse of being embarrassed, Y/N walked in with her head down. And partly, in fact, it was true that you were embarrassed, but your mind knew that your eyes wanted to take a good look at the older Fushiguro's thighs and cock. It was impossible not to look at those parts of his body, especially with that kind of pants.

But then Toji gave himself the right to go up the stairs to the upper floor of the house and out of your field of vision when Megumi asked you and Nobara which movie you wanted to watch and she answered that a drama movie. And then the four of you started to watch the movie comfortably, until you started to feel the straps of your own bra start to press painfully against the skin of your shoulders.

— Can I go to the bathroom? — Y/N asked Megumi, who pointed to the steps of the staircase diagonally across from the sofa.

— First door on the left. — You nodded and walked up the stairs carrying your backpack, intending to get rid of your bra and also put on the comfortable pajama top that had been brought.

From the hallway you could hear the low sound of another TV escaping through the gap in a tall door. It was probably Toji's room, such a thought raced through your mind, and you shrugged as you entered the bathroom, leaned against the door, and began to remove your bra and change into your shirt. It was inevitable to sigh in relief as you felt your shoulders less tense and sore and your hands groped your breasts just for the personal pleasure of feeling them free now.

— Hmm, may I come in? — A muffled voice was heard behind the door and instinctively you quickly removed your hands from your breasts.

— Just a minute. — Y/N answered, shoving the previously worn blouse into her backpack and almost running toward the door, slowly opening it.

You looked forward and found yourself facing a bare hard chest as you waited to see a long hallway with four different doors. Toji was now shirtless in front of you and your cheeks burned a little, which got a little worse when your brain short-circuited, your hand rested two fingers against the warm, somewhat soft skin of his chest, and you pulled away slightly so that you could look him in the eye.

— I'm sorry. — Your hand finished opening the door and there was again a sideways smile on Toji's lips

— Are you going to sleep here? — He asked, sliding his gaze over her shoulders, breasts and abdomen freely, without any embarrassment.

— No, actually. I just changed my shirt to be more comfortable.

— Got it. — Toji looked you straight in the eyes again, but yours were already gliding across his face until you found the scar close to his lips.

— How did you get this scar? — You felt the need to prolong the conversation just to get a better record of his face.

— You're pretty curious for someone apparently shy. — He remarked, his eyes sparkling with a gleam that you couldn't quite identify what it was. — When I was younger, we could say I wasn't the friendliest person in the whole world, so I got into a few fights. — Toji shrugged, as if this was not relevant information

How old are you? — A mischievous smile slowly drew on his lips.

— Old enough to be your dad.

"Then maybe I can call you Daddy", was the first thing you thought, but there wasn't enough courage in you to flirt shamelessly, especially with Megumi or the other two able to eavesdrop from downstairs.

— I think I've been here with you long enough. — Y/N answered, putting the backpack on her back and walking past Toji, but just as her feet were about to start down the steps, the older Fushiguro called her out.

— I think you forgot something, little girl. — You turned back in confusion, and in his hands was your bra. Toji threw the piece of clothing toward you through the air without much force to fall gently onto your palms that had opened toward him. — The next time you forget something like that inside my house, I'll keep it for myself. — You frowned, assuming that he was implying that there was possibly something between you and his son.

— Me and Megumi, we don't... — Your shoulders shook without your mouth finishing the sentence.

— I wasn't talking about him exactly, you're very naive, not that that's a problem for me. — He went into the bathroom and eventually you were alone again.

Feeling more embarrassed than the first time you had seen Toji earlier at the university entrance, you joined your friends again in the middle of the movie and were grateful that none of them had bothered to ask if anything had happened in the bathroom because of your delay. Eventually Nobara fell asleep on your shoulder after eating two pieces of the pizza Megumi had asked his father to buy, and Yuuji began to yawn almost pushing the son of the owner of the house off the couch.

— I knew they would both end up sleeping. — Megumi grumbled, pushing Itadori aside and getting up from the sofa. — There are two guest bedrooms upstairs, you and Nobara can use both of them and Yuuji sleeps with me, or one of you can sleep with me and the other and Itadori in the other bedrooms.

— I think it's better that Yuuji better sleep with you. — Y/N replied looking at Kugisaki, who was starting to fall off her shoulder.

And then Fushiguro woke the almost sleeping Itadori to go upstairs while he carried Nobara up the stairs and you accompanied him carrying both your and your friend's backpack. After tidying Kugisaki up in bed and getting Yuuji changed, Megumi spoke to you before leaving you alone in the guest room:

— If you feel hungry, you can go in the kitchen and get something to eat during the night. And, well, you already know where the bathroom is, and so does my room. If anything happens during the night, you can call me or him. — Megumi pointed to the door of Toji's bedroom, and you nodded positively.

And then you laid lazily on the slightly uncomfortable bed in the room and tried to relax. Almost, almost, sleep caught up with you, but your evil brain began to make you think about the fact that Toji was only a few miserable doors away, and the anxiety began to corrupt you rapidly, like a corrosive acid. But even though you wanted to go knock on his door, you forced yourself to sleep, especially since the day had been exhausting.

The next day, just like the rest of the week, Y/N didn't get to see Megumi's dad, and he didn't make much of a point of talking about his father either, after all, why would his friends be interested in him, right? All the other days of the week, her mind focused more on trying not to think about her ex-boyfriend and also not to think about Toji, just college business.... And then came the next Thursday of the successive week.

And there was Toji Fushiguro, leaning against his big motorcycle, but this time with only one helmet and different clothes. Honestly? You didn't know if you should go talk to him or not, if you should just walk right by or not. But, in the end, your mind tricked you into choosing the second option, and your feet awkwardly made their way to the college with your eyes struggling not to check the man's reactions.

— Can I have your number, little girl? — Toji asked in a tone loud enough for you to hear.

— What? — You looked away, wringing your hands nervously.

— I asked if I could have your number. — One of his hands swung his cell phone toward you.

The first thought that crossed your mind was, "What if someone sees us together and tells Megumi?", but honestly, Megumi probably wouldn't be interested in your sex or love life, even if it was with his father.

— Maybe, if you take me for a motorcycle ride today.

— You're wearing a skirt, are you sure you'd want to do that? — Toji suppressed a playful laugh. — You could have a ride somewhere more comfortable than my motorcycle today.

You narrowed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, realizing that you were entering dangerous territory in a game of seduction that Toji knew and played better than you.

— Will Megumi be at home?

— He has an internship today. — Toji replied, drumming his fingers on his helmet.

— Wait for me after four o'clock then. — You replied and walked back toward the college as you felt his eyes fixed on your ass.

Throughout the day you felt uncomfortably nervous and Nobara even asked you if everything was okay several times at different times. The only answer your mind formulated was a simple positive head movement, because honestly you felt embarrassed to be interested in a friend's dod, even though this father was extremely attractive and did not reject your shy and restrained advances. He was just so nice, fine.

Fine enough to make you press your thighs together to try to relieve the sexual tension as your legs walked towards the Fushiguro house. And when you got there, it didn't take long to see Toji opening the door wearing only black sweatpants. You went inside and closed the door, nervously watching the older man, who sat comfortably on the sofa in the living room and called out to you with his index finger. As you stopped in front of him, one hand patted his lap and the other was placed on your thigh covered by your skirt. Slowly, Y/N took her seat sitting on his covered cock.

— Why do you look so tense, hm? — Toji asked, squeezing your thigh without too much force and you moved slightly against his hip. — Are you a virgin by any chance? — Your cheeks heated up.

— N-No, you just make me nervous. — Y/N replied, shrugging slightly.

— Do I? — He pretended to be surprised as he slid his hand up her skirt and pushed his fingertips against her covered pussy. — Do I make you get your panties wet too? — Toji pressed his hips against hers and her hands rested on his shoulders for a few brief seconds.

— Fuck, yes. — You groaned, taking your fingers to the buttons of your shirt to undo them. — I've been thinking about you more than I should, I've been thinking about everything about you.

— So, why don't you show me how much you've been thinking about me, huh? — Fushiguro pulled her panties aside and stroked her pussy in slow circular motions while he brought his other hand to her face and pulled her closer to his. — Show me how much you want me and cum on my fingers like the dirty slut I know you can be. — His thumb slowly brushed over your lips and you opened them, your mouth filled by long fingers.

You grabbed his wrist close to your intimacy and guided two of his digits into your interior. And, fuck, they filled you so well. Toji's fingers were thicker and longer than yours, so the times he repeatedly curved them inside your cunt, their tips easily brushed and pressed that spot that made you roll your eyes having your body spasm with pleasure. "What a beautiful vision", the man would be thinking as he watched his beautiful college girl choking on his fingers while being fucked by the others.

However, he didn't move his hand against you much, meaning that he let you choose the pace and intensity, until you whimpered against his neck in a silent request for his fingers to move against you:

— Please, Toji, move your fingers. — Y/N said as she pulled away from Toji's digits that were preventing her from speaking and forced her hips against his hand.

— Can't you cum on your own? — He asked squeezing your chin to make you keep your mouth open. — Pathetic. — Toji spat on your tongue and closed your mouth to force you to swallow. — Pathetic slut. — And then he began to finger you in a relentless rhythm.

If Fushiguro wanted to make you cum in his hand, that's exactly what he got, and he even got a great view of your trembling body, your breasts rising and falling rapidly because of your rapid breathing and your head falling back in an intense pleasure you didn't know your body could achieve. While you were still clouded by ecstasy, his fingers snuck up to finish removing your panties and getting rid of your clothes covering your upper body. He wanted you only in your skirt.

— Look at my pet slut with her beautiful cunt leaking. — His fingers spread the folds of your pussy to see you twitching around just at his obscene words. — Just so nice. — Toji pressed the thumb against your sensitive clit and gave you a smirk before he sat you down on one of his thighs, began to move you there and also slowly stimulated your clit.

His body leaned down and his lips latched onto your breasts, sucking and licking them more intensely as your hips moved faster against his thigh. And occasionally Fushiguro would pull up her skirt and slap her ass hard enough to leave several finger marks across her skin; and it was on one of his slaps that a short, gasping, "Daddy" sneaked out from between your lips and hit Toji's mind as a twinge of intense pleasure coursed through his entire body.

— Say that again. — He ordered, grabbing her neck with the hand that had been slapping her ass before.

— Daddy... — Y/N groaned breathlessly as she continued to move her hips against Toji's thigh in a desperate attempt to cum again.

— Keep calling me that, be a good little whore for me. — His other hand continued to stimulate your clit, now at a more intense pace that managed to push you straight into the abyss of a orgasmic pleasure that you so desperately needed.

After that, Fushiguro held you still in place as he continued to press his fingers against your clit. He definitely wanted to bring you close to the level of almost passing out from so much lust running freely through your body, and so your legs instinctively closed around his hand. At the same time that you desperately needed to breathe because you felt like your lungs were burning from your intense panting, every fiber of your body was still clamoring for the stimulation that only Toji could give you at the moment, so it wasn't hard for him to force your legs open again with a sly smile on his lips:

— Come on, my pretty girl, give me everything you've got. — He made scissor-like movements against her walls and her hips automatically forced themselves against Toji's palm, even though her intimacy was already quite sensitive.

— Daddy, please... please, more, daddy... — Y/N sank her face into the curve of Toji's neck trying to stifle her own moans.

— What a great fuck toy you are. — His fingers curved and you gasped, feeling again that same pressure as before against your bottom that indicated that your third orgasm was approaching. — No matter how much I make you cum you keep asking for more.

And the more he moved his fingers frantically against your pussy, the more you felt your thoughts disappear completely and all that was left was only Toji Fushiguro, and his fingers, and the cocky smile he had no matter what the situation was. Those same fingers that made you squirt for the first time against his abdomen in a third, overwhelming orgasm and your cheeks heat up violently, especially after seeing Toji bring them to his lips looking more than just satisfied with his work with you. Fuck, you could fuck him several times, you could pass out from pleasure, and you still wouldn't ask him to stop or slow down with you.

— Think you can handle one more, pretty girl? — He asked, his hands reaching for his pants and underwear.

— Yes, Daddy. — Y/N tried to speak as firmly as possible with her heavy breathing.

Toji put one hand on your waist and the other on your chin and took the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss as he entered you slowly, which made you lose some focus on the kiss and moan against his mouth as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. He didn't let you get too used to the recent intrusion and started thrusting himself against you hard.

After leaving yours, his mouth slid down your neck and shoulders to leave sucking and biting the area before placing the hand that was on your chin on your neck. Eventually yours moans went from simple gasps and sighs to little "Daddy" that made Fushiguro's dick twitch against yours insides several times and grunts escape his lips.

— I will breed you like the desperate little whore that you are. — Toji stroked hard against you while squeezing your neck a little harder. — I bet you're going to love this, aren't you?

— Y-Yes, daddy, breed me, please. — Y/N moved her hips against his while maintaining eye contact with the older man's predatory eyes. — Fill me up completely, until I'm leaking.

Toji squeezed your waist tightly, tilted your body slightly until your hips arched a bit, and started a rhythm of thrusts against you that as a result made your mind go blank and your nails leave scratches on his shoulders. And your fourth orgasm didn't even take long to hit you almost as hard as the third because your whole body had been extremely sensitive for a long time; after fucking that man incessantly you would definitely be addicted to him, to his touch, to his dick, to his lips. Everything about him was addictive.

After making you cum for the fourth time, Fushiguro kept thrusting inside you until his cock forcefully contracted against you and filled you full of cum. By that point you had definitely become just a bunch of holes for him to fuck, and if your body wasn't already so sensitive you might want him to actually fill every possible place in your body with cum. When he withdrew his dick from inside your pussy, Toji pulled your hips up to watch the white liquid escape your entrance and used his fingers to push it into you again.

— Come here. — He patted his chest lightly, and you leaned your sweaty body against his as you lifted your head to look at him. His hands caressed your body and soon you found yourself being carried up the stairs. — I'm going to give you a long shower, and then I'll take you home. — Toji left a gentle kiss against your forehead, and you felt more comfortable than you really should have in his arms.

— Thank you, daddy. — You replied, and he couldn't suppress a satisfied smile.

And maybe from then on you continued to take advantage of the times when Megumi wasn't home or you weren't so busy with college to spend hours together.

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #i4nanami #daddy toji #toji supremacy #tw.daddy kink

1K notes · View notes

stardewtales · 3 years

Note

Your shane x reader are some of the first I read when i got into sdv, and they still hold a li special place in my heart <3 I love the way you wrote shane, jas, and the farmer (you kept the farmer rather neutral, but you still gave her moments of personality, rlly great stuff!), anyway, I'd love any shane related stuff you would do, but if your looking for a request, the reader teaching him abt farming/gardening (planting hot peppers together eee) i think would be rlly cute-ok bye lysm!!!

A/N: hey lovely!! If you're still around, thank you so much for this. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to your request, but here it is! Hope it lives up to your expectations xx

Shane can feel you hovering behind him.

"What is it," he groans, not bothering to turn around.

"Sorry," he hears you say. "Just, be careful with the roots, please? I don't want all your work to be for nothing."

Well, he can't exactly fault you for that. If anything, he's ashamed because he was distracted while you showed him the whole thing about the roots.

He turns to look at you. "Would you, uh... mind showing me again?"

His stomach twists as you smile at him, thoroughly amused. "Sure thing. Here, let me get in there..."

You kneel beside him, knees firmly planted in the dirt beside his. You proceed to show him how to dig around the roots instead of into them for a second time that afternoon. For a second time, he finds it hard to focus with you so close, but he fights that a little harder this time.

"Here," you hand him back the trowel, "give it another shot."

He can't miss the way the look you give him is so damn encouraging. You've given him plenty of variations on that look by now, with various degrees of concern thrown into the mix. He proceeds to try digging up the pepper plant again, the sun boring down on the back of his neck as he does it.

"Am I getting it right, now?" he asks, glancing up at you quickly.

"Couldn't do it better myself," you nod exaggeratedly, and he fakes throwing dirt at you in retaliation.

It gets a laugh out of you, clear and joyful. It stirs something inside him, the feeling that's been nagging at him sort of often these days. It hits him like a ton of bricks in that moment that this is the feeling he used to chase all the way down the bottles, the sort of rush he used to think would make up for everything else.

He must've made a face when he realized it, because your brows furrow in concern.

"Are you o-" you start, but you're cut off short by a girlish squeal further down the field.

Him and you both shoot up, surveying the surroundings.

"Jas?" you half-shout, concerned.

"I think I need some help," her voice pipes up sheepishly, and the two of you finally spot her, fallen on her butt among the sunflowers.

You huff, relieved, and tell him you've got it with a brief touch on his arm before you leave in Jas's direction. Now that he knows she's not hurt, he can go back to making sense of his thoughts, yet he barely registers the lingering feeling of your fingers on his forearm.

He kneels and gets back to work, distraught. His first instinct is to worry. The therapist Harvey connected him with cautioned him pretty early on about the way some addicts replaced one addiction with another, and that all good things should perhaps be enjoyed in moderation while he was on the road to recovery.

You're the best thing in his life by far, but he failed to keep you at arm's length a long time ago now. He's not dense enough to be unaware that he's developed some pretty strong feelings for you. But this particular feeling is new-ish, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. As his fingers dig up the pepper plant out of the ground and he gently removes chunks of dirt from the roots, Shane hopes really hard this doesn't mean he's allowed himself to veer all the way of the right path he's been trying so hard to stick to.

He hates to think about it, but maybe he needs to cool off on seeing you so often so he can at least get a grip. He can't even recall the last time he went a day without seeing you. Sometime in the spring, probably? It's the very end of summer now.

After he's transferred the plant to the wheelbarrow, Shane stands up and looks around. You're still helping Jas uproot some sunflowers, even though her initial job was just to collect the stray seeds. Officially, he and her were there to help you wrap up the summer crops so you could transfer some to your greenhouse. In reality, he was helping you; Jas was causing more trouble than she was helping, but you didn't seem to mind at all, more than happy to show her over and over how to handle things properly.

He didn't know how you did it. It's like you had an endless well of patience, and he knew he ought to have reached the pit of it by now. And yet, he had not. There were depths to your kindness that reached far enough that even after dealing with him through his recovery, you still had plenty left for Jas in all her fumblings and ill-advised adventures.

For the rest of the afternoon Shane managed to clear his mind and just keep working somewhat efficiently. Marnie came around just before dinnertime to get Jas, who was too exhausted from running around by then to protest. Marnie had also let him know she'd save him a portion of dinner for when he came home, but to take his time, which he'd made sure to thank her for.

It wasn't long until Jas left before you and him moved on to replanting the uprooted plants into the greenhouse. He liked that part more than the digging up; liked the hazy warmth of the greenhouse more than the blaring heat of the field. The two of you worked mostly in silence, both exhausted, him perhaps more than you.

After you planted the last of yours and he was halfway through his own last plant, he heard you clap your hands together to shake the dirt off your gloves, before you fully shrieked.

"What's wrong?" he quickly turned towards you.

"Your neck!" you replied, walking over to him. "Did you not put on sunscreen like I told you to?"

Shane instinctively reaches for the back of his neck, and while the sunburn doesn't hurt yet, he can feel the tell-tale heat coming off of it.

"Ah, shit. Think I missed a spot."

You tut at him, shooing his hand off so you can take a better look.

"You big idiot," you chastise him affectionately. "You're lucky I have an infinite amount of aloe in the house from last summer."

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

As Shane steps out of the shower and into your steam-filled bathroom, he can already tell he'll be sore from all this work. He doesn't know how you do this every day. He tries to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it's too fogged up. Probably better that way, he thinks.

He's used your shower plenty of times before, and he's glad that at the very least it doesn't feel as awkward as it used to. While he was still in the pits of getting sober, you'd graciously let him stay over on your couch so Jas didn't have to see him struggle when it got too hard. He still doesn't know why you did that, or how to repay you for it.

After putting on his clothes, he steps out into your living room, where you're waiting for him with a huge tub of the goo you intend to smear on his sunburn. You've showered too, and made him do it after you because otherwise you claimed he'd just wash off the aloe later, which was probably right.

"C'mere," you beckon him over to sit on the arm of your couch.

He chuckles. It's funny to him, how bossy you get when you're trying to take care of him. Nevertheless, he does as he's told and dutifully sits down like you instruct him. And waits.

Nothing happens.

"You okay back there?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

You raise a brow. "Aren't you gonna take off your shirt? How am I supposed to get this on you otherwise?"

He feels a bubble of panic rush up. He's in better shape than he used to be, but he's still not much to look at, and he doesn't like the idea of you finding that out like this. "Is that really necessary?"

You sigh, and he knows there will be no convincing you. He feels the tips of his ears burn as he lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet and taking precious care not to look back at you. "Happy?" he mumbles.

"Hmhm," you hum quietly behind him.

You bring your aloe-coated fingers to his burning skin, and instantly he feels consumed by ice-cold flames. He was not prepared for you to touch him quite so gently, to work the gel into his skin in tiny, careful circles. His throat runs dry as he's reminded of his earlier conclusion that he needs to take some time away from you, for both of your sakes. If the way his body is reacting to this isn't proof, he doesn't know what would be.

You let him know you're done, and he promptly puts his shirt back on. He wishes he hadn't when the stickiness gets a hold of the collar.

"So, just a heads up," you start, screwing the jar of aloe vera shut, "I'm gonna be really busy tomorrow I think. So maybe hanging out in the evening when I'm done would be better?"

He's taken aback by the way this is coming up faster than he anticipated. Still, No time like the present I guess, he thinks to himself.

"About that," he clears his throat, "I think it might be better if I spend some alone time for a while."

He watches you still. You look up at him slowly, visibly confused. "Have I done something wrong?" you ask, and it kills him. "I'm sorry if I have, I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes," you start to ramble, but he cuts you off.

"No, no, none of that," he tries to reassure you. "It's just, uh, how do I say this," he scratches at his head, genuinely at a loss. "Remember how I told you my therapist said I should, like, maybe be careful about things I enjoy a lot? And about... strong emotions?"

You nod, but he can tell from your slight frown you're still confused.

"Well, it's kinda like that. I feel really good when I'm with you. Maybe a little too good. Strong stuff. But I don't wanna depend on you to feel... good. I wanna keep this healthy, yeah?"

You ponder his words, and he can tell he hasn't really gotten his point across. "I mean, I think I get where you're coming from, maybe? But Shane, I think it's okay for you to have a support system. Is it really so bad if being with a friend makes you feel good? I think that's how most people feel."

He shakes his head, huffing. "No, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

His eyes meet yours, and he feels weak. "Please don't make me say it," he whispers.

"Shane," you reach out to touch his shoulder, "You're worrying me."

He swallows. Before he knows it, it tumbles out of him. "I have feelings for you. I have for a while. And lately it's gotten a little out of control. So I need some time away from you to get over it, okay? I don't want things to be weird. I need you too much to have things be weird. So I need to figure it out before it gets there."

You stare at him, and he sees so many emotions run across your face that he gets dizzy.

"You... what?" you say quietly after a while.

He feels heat rise from his chest all the way to his ears, like some twisted type of nausea. "Forget it, alright? That's not the point I'm trying to make. I just..." he breathes, "I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for a response. He goes for the door right away, in a real hurry to leave this place where everything is so blatantly yours, down to the smell of your lotion lingering in the air from your bare legs.

But you don't let him leave. He feels your hand on his arm, a real grip this time, and the next thing he knows you're reaching for his neck and bringing his mouth to meet yours. Shane thinks he's forgotten how to make his blood run, how to make his lungs breathe, how to make his limbs move. You're pressing your lips on his with a fervor he didn't even know you had in you. Then, with an instinct of its own, his body kicks back into gear, and he feels himself wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer yet as he pours all the energy he has left into kissing you back.

It's desperation that compels him, because he never imagined this would ever happen outside of his mind, outside of his daydreams. He's not even convinced he'll ever get to do it again, so he's making this one count.

He genuinely has no idea how much time has passed when you break away from him, panting. You're not saying anything, just searching his eyes with yours.

"Please say something," he eventually breathes.

He watches as you swallow, then exhale loudly. "I don't want to see you in a few days only. I wanna see you now and in the middle of the night and every moment of every day. I don't want you to go and get over me, because I don't think I'll be able to get over you if you do, Shane. So don't leave me. Stay. Please."

Your words fluster him a great deal more than he already is. "Okay," he nods, in a half-daze.

"Yeah?" you make sure, still catching your breath.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Anything for you. Of course."

#shane x reader #shane x farmer #stardew shane #sdv shane #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley shane #stardew valley #sdv

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sky-berrie · 3 years

Text

Stitch - Damian

Summary: Another favorite trope - reader patches up a wound. Warning: mentions of blood.

The window opened behind you and you felt a cool summer night breeze brush against your neck. You didn’t bother to give the intruder any attention because you knew that Damian was the only person who could disarm the alarm and crack lock mechanism with ease. You thought the whole system was overkill but it pleased Damian to have it installed so you didn’t complain.

“Hey, Damian,” you greeted him robotically with your gaze still transfixed to your laptop screen and your back to the window. You were watching the events of the latest episode of your favorite show unfold.

You heard Damian land in your room with a grunt. He was usually quite graceful, however you guessed that his ribs and hip were still sore from the last sparing session he had with his brothers and sisters. That family took everything to a whole other level.

You heard Damian shut the window after himself. The sound of the latch being secured came next. Then you heard electronic beeps as he reactivated the alarm. “You –” he let out a sharp exhale. “You took home economics, right?”

“Yeah,” you replied, nonchalantly with a mouthful of popcorn. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen, but you heard the sound of his heavy boots carry him across your room.

“Good,” he said. A shaky breath infiltrated his normally self-assured voice. “And you remember most of it?” The bed springs creaked under his weight.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Great,” he said. “What grade did you receive?” This wasn’t all that out of character for him. Damian was competitive in all aspects of his life. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to compare home economics grades just so he could vaunt his skills.

“I don’t know, Damian,” you said honestly. You turned up the volume, hoping that Damian would get the hint that you wanted to watch your show in peace and quiet. “I think it was a good mark.”

Damian let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Excellent.” His voice sounded less troubled than before.

“Jon did most of my assignments,” you admitted unapologetically.

Damian was quiet for a moment. “Okay, but you attended the classes, correct?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were too focused on the climax of the episode. “Oh my goodness,” you muttered under your breath to yourself as the plot twist unveiled. “Um,” you said, remembering that Damian had asked you something. “Yeah, yeah, more or less.”

“Do you remember how to sew?”

“Sort of,” you told him. You had sewn on a button once. It didn’t look great, but it definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

“Well enough,” he said. “I need you to suture a laceration.”

“What?” you choked out. He said it so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure if he was serious or not, because a sane person would not be so stoic. You whipped around to find Damian lying on your bed in his Robin uniform. It was soiled with a layer of black, like he had been charred. It was so dark that it masked the staining of his blood and you wouldn’t have known he was bleeding if it weren’t for the pool of red soaking through your white comforter. He was holding his side with his hands at an awkward angle.

You had seen him with cuts and bruises and even broken bones, but never with the life bleeding out of him. “Oh my goodness!” you shrieked as panic filled your lungs. Your face contorted into a horrified grimace as you tried to stifle an expression of disgust. The strong stench of metal made your stomach churn and your head woozy.

You immediately felt horrible for not paying attention to him sooner. “Damian, why didn’t you say something? Holy crap! What the hell happened? You need an ambulance!” You turned around to reach for your phone.

“No,” Damian choked out. “Secret… identity,” he said with his eyes squeezed shut.

“What about your brothers and sisters? Your dad? Alfred?”

“On their way. No time to wait. First aid kit,” he implored weakly.

You ran for the bathroom and tore into the cabinet to find the massive first aid kit that Damian insisted you store. You had opened it once or twice to grab a bandage for a paper cut but you never touched the majority of the contents. You didn’t even know what half of the kit was for. You guessed that you might find out today.

When you returned to your room, Damian was moving slowly to unbutton his uniform. You helped him with the rest, trying to do it quickly without jostling anything. You tried to ignore the squishy wetness of the uniform, but your hands came away covered in a layer of crimson blood. Beneath the outer coat, his white undershirt was seeping with blood. There was a large tear in the fabric and a bit of the raw wound peeked through.

You didn’t have a fear of blood, really. You had no qualms about donating blood or seeing it on TV. This, however, was completely different. You were more terrified than you had ever been in your entire life. You had no idea what to do - everything you knew about CPR and standard first aid had inexplicably disappeared from your brain. Silent tears began to spill from your eyes as your breaths tore in and out of your throat, ragged and shallow.

“Y/N,” said Damian, firmly. Through your blurry, wet vision, you could see him straining to make eye contact with you. “Breathe. Everything is going to be fine. Just follow my instructions.”

Normally you trusted Damian, but this time his reassuring words didn’t have any kind of soothing effect on you. Your whole body was shaking now. You couldn’t find your voice. Instead, you shook your head.

“Yes, Y/N. It is going to be fine, but you must listen to me. Do you understand?”

You tried to take a deep breath, but an uncontrollable sob cut it short. If Damian could lie there halfway to death and still be composed, then you could at least pretend to be calm for his sake. You nodded your head this time, trying your best to even out your breathing. It was no use though. You couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Thank you. Cut it,” he said, motioning to his undershirt.

You did as he ordered and cut a line right down the centre of his shirt. It was warm and wet and clung to his skin, so you peeled it off to reveal the full extent of a nasty looking wound. Even through your distorted, teary vision, you saw enough to know it was not good.

You felt faint at the sight of his insides. Or maybe it was your hyperventilating making you dizzy.

“Breathe, Y/N. Breathe and then get the sterile solution to irrigate it.”

You returned with freshly washed hands, a pair of gloves and a jug of irrigation solution. Following his instructions, you squeezed the syringe and expelled the liquid over his wound. It ran down his side and carried even more blood into your comforter.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “There should be a small white packet with a curved need and thread and a pair of suture holders. They look like scissors but without the blades.”

Your trembling hands had a difficult time picking out the items. Once you collected the materials, you looked at Damian for further directions.

“It’s a bit deep so you’ll need to close the layer under the skin first. Can you see it?”

You shook your head. His side was a giant red mess. You couldn’t make out anything except for blood and jagged skin. It was nothing like the clean and clear-cut diagrams you’d seen in class. “This is crazy! I can’t do this,” you cried. People spent years studying and training to do procedures like this. Stitching up a body was not something that a person should wing, and definitely not on their best friend, lying in an unsterile room.

“You can,” he assured you. “Pretend like you’re sewing some fabric. Start with this layer here.” Damian pulled at his skin and pointed to the inside with a pair of suture forceps. You couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes as he prodded himself. “Y/N,” he called your attention back. “Make sure the needle goes in like this and comes out like this,” said Damian as he demonstrated.

You were shaking your head. “You are absolutely insane! Sewing fabric is nothing like sewing a wound! Can’t we just wait for your dad or someone?”

“No time,” he said.

“Please, Damian,” you begged. “Let me call EMS.”

“No,” he asserted with what little strength he had.

“Please! I…”

“No,” he repeated. You could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“I understand you have to protect your secret identity, but Damian, come on. There won’t be an identity to protect if you die.”

“Batman…Nightwing…” he said weakly.

“They’ll understand!” you argued with desperation.

“No,” he mumbled. He shook his head.

Without any thought, your next words came flooding out straight from your heart. “Damian, I love you and I don’t want you to die!” Oh. That came as a shock to you. You’d never said anything like that before. In fact, you’d never even had a thought like that, but you knew it was the truth. Your hands almost flew to cover your mouth in regret, but the blood dripping from your hands stopped you.

Damian didn’t seem to notice your confession, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. Had you not been utterly distracted by the emergency before you, you might have run away with embarrassment from your sudden proclamation.

“Please try for me, okay?” His eyes were starting to close, but you could see him struggle to keep them open.

You searched his eyes, to see that his once vibrant green eyes had a dull, hazy colour to them. Seeming to find what you were looking for, you conceded. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Okay.”

It was the worst experience of your life. Damian walked you through the process, but nothing could prepare you for the nauseating feeling of piercing his skin and pulling the nylon thread through the thickness of the tissue. Seeing the inside of his body made you want to vomit but his life was at stake, and you had to be brave for him. Besides, he was the one who should be worried, not you. Your technique was obviously non-existent and you were certain that you were hurting him a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. He hissed and groaned and you apologized profusely but he insisted that you continue.

“Thank you,” said Damian after you tied the last knot. His eyes were heavy and lidded and you could tell he was barely hanging on to consciousness. “Knew you could do it.”

You had no response. Now that the worst part was over, the adrenaline had left your system and you were in shock. His hand lolled out in an attempt to offer you comfort, or maybe to seek comfort for himself. You weren’t certain which is was, but nevertheless, you instinctively clasped his hand in yours.

Then he said something that caught you off guard. His voice was so faint that you barely heard him. “For the record, I love you, as well.”

You weren’t sure if he really meant it. Maybe he was delirious. He did lose a lot of blood. You pondered it for a moment and wondered if you should feel mortally embarrassed when he was fully lucid, but just then, a gentle squeeze on your hand told you that you didn’t have to worry.

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #BatFam #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #damian wayne imagine #batfam imagine #batboys #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #robinchicklets

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

The MC is a Valkyrie

Demigod MC Series: Intro

Greek: Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia, Nyx

Norse: Valkyrie

A bit of a change of pace this time! No worries, I'm not done with the Greeks or anything. I just had this idea and wanted to get it out.

Valkyries aren't really demigods, but are a part of Norse myth as the minor divinities that help choose and deliver fallen warriors to Valhalla to join the ranks of the einherjar (the souls who will fight when Ragnarok comes). Valkyries are depicted as women who are fierce warriors in their own right. Despite their place as the gatekeepers of the Chosen, they've been said to sometimes take heroes and mortals as lovers or take residence in Midgard posing as daughters of royals/nobility.

Lucifer

At first, they thought they grabbed an heiress - which would have been bad enough - but then the MC grew wings, drew a spear, and asked who among them wanted a glorious death...

How hard is it to find ONE damn human on Earth? Isn't that realm supposed to be full of them??

Diavolo was thankfully able to talk their winged friend down from skewering Asmo and accepting the exchange on behalf of the human wo-… Midgard.

Living with a Valkyrie is different for sure. The MC is a proud woman who takes her role very seriously and she's seemingly deemed him and his brothers as candidates for einherjar (despite being demons).

He's tried many, many times to explain to her that they're not interested, but she's unconvinced. Now the MC watches his brothers like a hawk waiting to cart one of them off to Valhalla! Any mortal wound could be an excuse...

He's had to save Beel and Satan twice from getting dragged to that infernal palace… For whatever reason, she seems to have taken to them the most. Is it old Norse culture to favor the brash and strong? He has no idea...

At the very least, she knows better than to try to drag him into her little plans. Though he's sure he could qualify for the einherjar (obviously, why wouldn't he?) he has no interest in leaving his life here behind.

To think he'd actually have to put surveillance on his own brothers for their safety… But they're not going to get drafted into some ancient Norse war, not if he can help it.

Mammon

She’s an heiress… An heiress!!

Well, her human world identity is an heiress to a well-respected (and rather magical) rich family but that still technically counts! She’s crazy loaded back there! He’s in love!!

The only problem is that in the Devildom she doesn’t have a cent.

… and the fact that she keeps trying to get him killed. That’s also a problem.

In a way, things are not as bad and exactly as bad as that sounds. The MC apparently wants him to go to Valhalla (dope) but she can’t just take him there… He technically has to die in some kind of “vallent battle” first.

Her solution? Pick fights with nearly anything that moves and drag him into it!

Honestly, it’s pretty annoying… Sometimes he just wants to have a fun night out without getting into a barfight, you know??

At least the MC can handle herself… Hell, he was her "babysitter" but she barely even needed him. A lesser demon once made the bad idea of trying to cup her ass and lost a hand for his trouble…

Though, what this amounts to is the MC starting something then fighting alongside him like back-to-back badasses while looking for any excuse to scoop him up and fly him to Asgard!

Why does he put up with this? Well for starters human world rich is still rich, all he has to do is get himself a portal then he's living the high life! And secondly, well… what's the harm?

Sure, she technically wants him dead but he's the secondborn! The list of people who can take him down is so slim that it's not like he's in any danger. She even fights with him so things are a piece of cake!

Is this a case where he's 100% more forgiving because she's rich? Yes. Absolutely. But a golddigger's gotta eat somehow, right?

Leviathan

Is it weird to be jealous over someone not wanting you to die...?

Okay, that's an oversimplification but Levi can’t help but feel snubbed that the MC doesn’t have any interest in taking him to Asgard. Like, none! And why not??

He’s strong! He’s tough! He’s part snake too! Don’t the Nords have a thing about that? Like, there’s a giant snake they’re all worried about?? Maybe he could communicate with it!

Logically, Levi knows that he really shouldn’t press her on this… MC is pretty much a Grim Reaper with a Norse coat of paint and Asgard doesn’t really sound like his speed. No anime, no video games, not even cable! It’s just eat, train, and drink all day… Ew.

But still… What makes him an odd one out?

At best, she just knows he wouldn't be happy there. At worst, she's underestimating his skill… or maybe she's gauged him just right? He's always known he was weak!! 😫

Oh well... at least she's not a bore to be around. Far from it. She treats EVERYTHING like a life or death trial - he's pretty sure that if he challenged her to rock, paper, scissors she'd commend him for his bravery and swear on her sisters that she won't lose.

He once made the mistake of inviting her and Simeon for a game of Devil Party and they both got so into it that they nearly had a duel to the death as a tiebreaker…

Thank Devil that the game had a pre-programmed minigame for that kind of thing… It would have gotten messy otherwise.

Well, even if his other brothers go to Asgard, he can just chill out here with Lucifer and Asmo… right…? Actually, no, that sounds horrible! MC, he changes his mind!! Take him too!!! 😭

Satan

How many times does he have to say that he doesn’t want to go to Asgard?!?

Well, okay that’s not entirely true. Out of scientific curiosity, seeing the godly realm of the old Nords would be fascinating but he doesn’t want to stay, which the MC seems to have trouble understanding…

He’s not even sure why she's singled him out for einherjar status… Any one of his brothers are powerful beings in their own right and he’s not particularly, uh, “even-tempered” himself...

His best guess is she saw him wipe out a handful of lesser demons at some point and declared him Ragnarok material. He always ends up throwing around at least three of those idiots a week so checks out…

If he's being honest, her very existence raises so many questions… Does this mean that Ragnarok is real? Will the human world be swallowed up by the sea? Will the gods of Asgard fight and die as a new world is established? When??

Unfortunately, the MC won't tell him when it all will come to pass (he suspects even she doesn't know) just that Loki will trigger it… Someone keep tabs on that guy.

Until then, he just has to put up with her attempts to convince him but his patience is wearing thin… He's pretty sure he threw a bookshelf at her once but she caught it anyway so yeah...

He did challenge her to a proper duel too but… well let's say she's a Valkyrie for a reason and leave it at that. (Being saved by Lucifer was so humiliating… He's done here, move on already!!)

Asmodeus

First things first, she's gorgeous. Beautiful! Divine! (Literally 🤭)

Now that that's out of the way… She may also have a screw or two loose.

Like, he gets it. She's a Valkyrie and snapping up strong souls is her thing but come on… Mammon? Really? Why would he get into Valhalla instead of him, huh??

Why can't he get to go to the beautiful afterlife of the old Norse with all their strapping warriors, lovely maidens, and endless partying?? It's not fair!!

Ugh… and now she's got him sounding like LEVI! How frustrating…

Well, it may not be that bad. According to MC, he'd have to do battle training in Valhalla and that wouldn't really agree with his beauty routine. Like dirt, sweat, blood, and muscles? No thanks! Not for him.

He asked MC if he could get some kind of pass, but no dice… Maybe he could still convince her to let him vacation there… Or go for a visit? Just one? Surely that couldn't be so bad right?? He's heard that Thor looks NOTHING like people think he does and he's so curious!!

The closest he's ever gotten was challenging the MC to a fashion contest for a visit, but he dropped that idea quick when she proposed that they somehow include a wrestling match in the dressing room (and he knows she didn't mean the fun kind...)

As much as he'd love to get skin-to-skin with MC, the idea of getting locked in a chokehold was less appealing for some reason. 🤔

Ah well, he'll just have to make due admiring her wonderful body clothed for the time being… There's something to be said about muscular ladies, no?

Beelzebub

So she’s almost convinced him to join the einherjar like twice now…

He’s not the best at making decisions when he’s hungry and the MC keeps hyping up the food… Apparently it’s really good up there and MC says that she’s never seen an empty platter... Just thinking about it makes his stomach do backflips.

Thankfully for him, Lucifer usually steps in before Beel can sign his soul away and reminds him that he can’t just abandon the family for a meal, even if it is a feast.

You'd think he'd be annoyed but Beel isn't really bothered by her habit of trying to bring everyone to Asgard. At least not on a personal level.

Like Lucifer, he doesn't want to see his family broken up so he'd rather she wouldn't… But she's a Valkyrie right? It's what she does. It's not like she can help it.

In a weird way, he also thinks she means well. She just respects them and wants them to have a good afterlife. It would be kind of sweet if they didn't have to die for it first…

If he's being honest, he's not that worried about it anyway. His family is pretty tough, not a lot in the Devildom can take them down. As long as they're careful, everybody should be alright. 🙂

Maybe he could get MC to make some Valhallan food for them in the Devildom… Or he could get one of those immortality apples?? Though those would extend his life wouldn't they…? Oh well...

Belphegor

Belphie's attempt to kill the MC went something like this:

Belphie: *switches to his demon form* "I can't believe you actually trusted me!"

MC: *blinks* "Oh. So you want to challenge me then?"

Belphie: "What?"

MC: "Ah, now I see! You want to fight to prove your valor then die by my hand??"

Belphie: "What are yo-??"

MC: *summons wings and golden spear* "I like your spunk, demon!! Fight me with all you have and perhaps I'll take you to Valhalla! May you join us in our fight as a brother!!"

Belphie: "What the hell are you talking about!?!"

To his credit, he put up a good fight and probably would have gotten into Asgard if Lucifer hadn't intervened to save his life.

It can be said that the MC's Valkyrie-hood took Belphie completely by surprise. Sure, he thought she was a little weird for a "human" but challenging him to a duel to the death? That came out of nowhere!

His uneasiness about her only grew after he found out that she's been literally trying to get Beel killed! How in the world were his brothers so relaxed about this?? She's insane!!

So say what you will about the MC, but she's managed to do the impossible. She got Lucifer and Belphie to make up and work together on something! (i.e. making sure she doesn't send them all to their deaths)

Between Lucifer monitoring his brothers and Belphie watching the MC, they'll keep everybody in the Devildom where they belong. That's a promise!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

Glass Shatters || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader, also kinda Blaise x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxicity, ANGST, just pure fucking angst and asshole!draco, oh and swearing lol Summary: You realise that it’s time to end things with Draco when he hurts you one last time. AU with no Voldemort - 7th Year.

WORDS : 2294

Lyrics taken from ‘What Do I Tell My Friends’ by Bree Runway (the loml)

~~~

Hold me, don't let me go I'm fragile, I'm gonna fall right into you Catch time that I have lost Fly high, free fall, ooh

There’s always been something so beautiful about the way that glass shatters, loud and chaotic, scattering shards of itself everywhere and lodging itself in places that it doesn’t belong. It’s poetically exquisite, to just come apart and spread into tinier pieces of what you were once before, but it’s grossly painful to wear oneself out like that.

Sometimes, though not often enough, there is someone there to catch the glass before it hits the ground and scatters into a million pieces. A safety net, perhaps is the right word, there to protect those lattices from coming into contact with the hard surface that awaits them. Something to keep them from separating like the tangled limbs of playful children on a trampoline when they come back down to land against the woven polypropylene. But there’s not often a safety net waiting for you to fall.

And maybe that’s why people typically shatter like glass.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-huh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

You catch a glimpse of Draco across the room. He’s doing it again. He’s got one arm around Cho Chang’s shoulder and another around Millicent Bullstrode’s, and not a single sliver of attention is being directed toward you.

You’re not fragile. No. You never have been.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve prided yourself on being strong, on being able to protect yourself. What most people see when they look at you is power and ferocity- you're made of what Gods are made of and almost everyone knows it. You are not fragile.

But when it comes to Draco, you are like a frail baby bird that's always being nursed back to health. That was what a routine like the two of you had demanded. Submission, protection, but most would call it toxicity. You are putty in his hands and he knows it- every wall that you’ve ever built to protect yourself is nothing more than a child’s play pen when Draco is involved.

You catch his eye and scowl at the mischievous grin that he’s got on his face. He knows how much you despise his flirtatious nature, and it’s exactly that reason that encourages him to keep it up. You’re a beast that’s not to be messed with, like a tiger lodged in a cage, and he’s the only one that knows how to tame you. It always goes down the same way; he insists that the two of you need to keep it on the down-low, he then proceeds to flirt with everyone, you get upset, the two of you get in an argument and well... he always wins.

You're not fragile yet he always gets a reaction out of you.

But not tonight, no. Tonight it’ll be different.

Tonight you’re going to have a good time, with or without that snow-flake haired prick. You turn beside you where Neville, your best friend, is seated and smile at him.

“Neville, want to get smashed with me?”

“Always, Y/N.” Neville responds with a grin and you excitedly get up to get you both some drinks.

You're g-g-getting way too close (Oh oh, oh oh) Stop blowin' up my phone (Oh oh, oh oh) Just let me be alone (Oh oh, oh oh) It's gotta come to an end 'Cause what do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

Draco catches a glimpse of you leaving the couch where Neville, Blaise and Hannah are sitting, and decides to follow you toward the drinks table.

“Whoring around are we?” He asks with his eyebrows raised and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you’re one to talk.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”He tugs on your chin and brings you up to face him.

“First of all,” You start as you softly remove his hand from your chin and lower it to his side, “You heard me. Second of all,” You put a hand to his chest and gently shove him backwards, “Back up please, I can smell your breakfast from here.”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Y/N, this bratty behaviour-“

“Call me a brat, ever again, and I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever call me.” You smile, “I have a name, stick to it.”

This is very new for Draco, he’s never seen you speak so calmly in the heat of an argument. He’s seen you rage at him, yell until your lungs are sore and throat is raw, clench your fists so tight that crescent moons form in your palm. But he’s never seen you like this, never so collected. If he’s being completely honest, your level-headed appearance is throwing him off.

“Whatever pothead Neville’s given you is clearly fucking with your head, let’s go back to my dorm-“ He starts as he inches closer and grabs your wrist.

You yank yourself out of his grip and take a few steps away from him, “As tempting as that offer sounds, I’m good thanks.” When you notice the look of confusion painting across his features you smile awkwardly, “I know how this always ends so I’d much rather be alone.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait until you don’t want to be alone anymore?” He asks with a scoff.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing that for you.” You accuse and watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration, a sign that his patience for you is wearing thin. “And that’s not what I meant. I want to be alone, indefinitely.”

“What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you, “Is over. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh my fuck, do what Y/N?”

“All of it. I can’t keep sneaking around anymore like some kind of dirty secret. I can’t keep watching you flirt with everyone that’s within a 5km radius, and I can’t keep lying to my friends. What am I meant to tell them when I go disappearing for hours at a time and come back, covered in hickeys?”

“Nothing. It's no one's business.” He grits out angrily and you scoff with a small laugh.

“You’re pathetic. We’re done.” You utter before walking away from him, and his little corner, and go back to join Blaise, Hannah and Neville on the dance floor.

In the mirror like you're tough, right? I shoulda known once when you bit twice Drip drop both my , yeah I been nice Vodka overdose but no ice I'm done catching feelings, I catch flights Was in the dark but I got bright Not crawling back to you tonight Not crawling back to you tonight, tonight

“Shots, now.” You mumble once you get back to your friends and they waste no time obliging.

Draco’s had the pleasure of picking you apart like a worn out doll for too long, you won’t tolerate it anymore. He calls, you run. He warns, you heed. He scolds, you leave. Whatever he wants, you do without a moment of hesitation. When had you become so easily prey to his antics? You steal a glance of him checking himself out in a nearby mirror and feel your throat close up in disgust. How can someone so gorgeous be so horrible?

Deep down, beneath all that beauty and cockiness, is a vulnerable, scared and loveless little boy who didn’t learn to outgrow his insecurities. He can pretend all he wants that he’s a diamond but you’ll always know, he’s dark and desolate like a stone of coal. Something inside of him is fractured beyond repair and now he’s just remnants of disintegrated life. And try as hard as you might, you can’t fix whatever’s broken inside him. It’s not your job to anyway.

You always run back to him, in hopes of finally curing the malaise that torments his soul, but not tonight. No. Tonight will be different.

Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one I'll get stupid, I'll get dumb (Uh-uh) Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up for a wild one Turn it up, turn it up, uh

“Is this a party or a funeral? For fucks sake, turn it up Ginny!” You shout as you turn behind you to face the beautiful ginger that’s controlling the music.

“Anything for you Y/N.” She responds flirtatiously as she sends you a wink and proceeds to turn up the volume to the music. You look away from her with a dopey smile, trying to pretend that her wink hadn’t made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Oh Ginny. If you hadn’t wasted so much time pining after that blond prat then maybe you’d have gotten to her before Harry had.

“Come dance with me!” Blaise yells over the music and you happily agree as you let him take your hand and move you toward the makeshift dancefloor.

Any other time, you would have refused. It’s no secret that, despite being best friends, Blaise and Draco can be very competitive. Blaise had always been your friend and Draco, had not. But it was quite obvious to anyone who had eyes that the two of them both took quite a liking to you, and while your relationship with Draco isn’t public, it’s still never a good idea to get too close to Blaise. But fuck good ideas, tonight none of it matters.

If Draco likes to see you angry then today he’ll see you seething. Every unspoken rule that’s ever sat between the two of you will now be broken so harshly that it’ll shake him to his core.

You wait until you’ve spotted him in the room, then you hook your arms around Blaise’s neck and allow his hands to fall on your waist as a measure to guide you along with him. It’s not long until Draco sees you, and when his eyes lock with yours, you know that he’s positively enraged. If this is a game, today you are winning.

He’s almost always got the upper hand. But not tonight. No. Tonight is different.

Before you know it Draco is crossing the room and yanking you away from Blaise by the arm, dragging you to an abandoned section of the room.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Why are you hovering so close to me?” You ask in frustration as you step back from him. “Sheesh.”

“Sheesh? Sheesh?” He repeats in disbelief and you have to resist the urge to laugh. “Y/N, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough apparently, considering I’m standing here with you and not grinding against your better looking counterpart.” You mumble and Draco scoffs.

“Blaise is not better looking than me-“

“Okay Romeo, whatever you say.” You cut him off with a giggle, “Are we done here or was there more?”

“Was there more?” He repeats in a mocking tone, like a child making fun of their childhood friend. “Of course there was bloody more!”

His outburst has you laughing, genuinely laughing, and for a second you see the Draco Malfoy that got you into this mess in the first place. Your funny, good-looking, charming classmate that you accidentally allowed to creep into your heart. But he’s not the real Draco, no, that Draco doesn’t actually exist.

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and, without even thinking, say “I wish that this was the real you.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, clearly confused, but you continue nonetheless. “I can’t keep doing this Draco, I love you but I love myself more and I can’t allow you to get in the way of my wellbeing any longer.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “How am I getting in the way of your wellbeing?”

“Tell me that you love me too, right now, say it.” You shrug.

“Y/N, you can’t jus-“

“Okay, tell me that we can go public.” You revert and he swallows.

“Why are you-“

“Fuck, I’ll make it easy for you.” You interrupt him once again and give him a thin smile, “Tell me that what we have is real and that we’re in a relationship.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out and you nod your head awkwardly in understanding.

“Y/N, it’s not that-“

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief, “Your chest is hollow and yet you still have no space for me.”

“No-“

You blink back tears as you continue, “You push away everyone that cares about you and then you turn around and complain about the fact that there’s no one left to root for you. How can I possibly be in your corner when you’re continuously trying to shove me out of it?”

There are tears welling in your eyes but you don’t let them fall, no, he doesn’t deserve to make you cry.

He looks at you in shock and you know that you’re not getting any kind of closure from him. Despite how hard you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise, you had always been nothing more than a warm bed that he could settle into when he was lonely. The fire in you that he’s always admired seems to dwindle whenever you’re beneath his gaze, and now you realise that it’s not fair for you to die out for him.

“I hope you learn to start letting people in.” You whisper before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking back toward your friends.

He watches you walk away from him and struggles to sort through his thoughts. No, no, no. You can’t leave him, everyone else has already left him. You’re safe, you’re warm, you’re you, and Draco knows that he has feelings for you but how can he possibly convey that when words always get trapped in his throat like a cricket in a shoebox?

He knows what he wants to say to you, the words are scraping against the belt of his mouth like knives ripping through tape on a cardboard box, but how does he get them out, how does he make you understand?

Maybe that’s just it, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t make you understand. He doesn’t get you. He breaks, little by little, with every step you take away from him.

What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends? What do I tell my friends?

“What was that about?” Blaise asks in your ear and you roll your eyes as you pull back to look at him.

“Draco being immature, nothing important.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Blaise smiles sheepishly. “I was worried that maybe something was going on between you two.”

You smile brightly at the boy as you bring his hands down to your waist and sway to the music. “Why would that worry you Zabini?”

“I’m kind of into you.” Blaise whispers before bringing his lips down to connect with yours.

You don’t notice, too engulfed in the feeling of Blaise’s lips against yours, but across the room Draco’s eyes are focused quite intently on you and Blaise. When the two of you kiss Draco drops the glass that he had been holding, and he thinks that maybe he’s that glass; being smashed to smithereens.

~~~

Okay, I’ll stop with angst now... (maybe) I have the sudden desire to write fluff so the sequel to ‘Falling Out Of Love With Astoria Greengrass’ will definitely be wholesome and fluffy.

I’m probably not going to post again for a few days, I’m a bit worn out rn, but I’ll be back to writing soon!

anyway, love you all

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco angst #draco fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 4 years

Text

uh, ml bnha au

Yep. Here we go folks. Uh I don’t know much I’ll expand on this but it’s here. The quirks that is. Uhm- here we go I guess? Thank you @ghostatjoes and @symphonic-scream and all y’all for the ideas and inspiration.

Adrien’s will be the only on the nose most obvious one. I wanna try and keep these powers from being just the miraculous powers. So this will be a mix of just original ideas and akuma stuff.

Adrien: “Cataclysm” pretty much it’s Shigaraki’s Decay but a little different. It’s this au’s version of One For All. The Destruction Hero, Plagg, passed this quirk down to him when Adrien proved that he had a good heart to be a hero cause Plagg needs a replacement due to an injury causing Cataclysm to slowly start to kill him. Adrien is aiming to save as many people as possible as a rescue hero. (His outfit has a cat motif in honor of Plagg who has a cat head due to an unrelated mutation like how Tokoyami has a bird head)

Marinette: “Growth” Marinette can amplify the life in a living object. Whether this means taking a small flower and turning it a building tall beanstalk or amplifying the healing of someone’s body. However she can only use this in short bursts or else she risks over growing her body causing chronic pains and possible plants growing from her arms.

Nino: “Bubbles” Okay yeah so obviously Bubbler, but it’s a little cooler? Nino can entrap anything into these bubbles. Sounds, healing packs, explosions, balls of fire, light itself, all condensed into these bubbles ready to be yeeted across the battle field like bombs, med packs, or flash bombs. However they can be a little fragile so he’s working to make them more tough. The bubble solution he uses to make these bubbles are made of his unique sweat. Bakugo style. Don’t ask what it’s made of he isn’t sure either. At least it makes him smell nice.

Alya: “Signal” Not the most offensive quirk, but she can send a signal to every single person in a certain radius that she’s training to grow. Whether this is a message, an image she’s seeing(this can extend to just what she’s seeing in general), etc. She’s also training for this to extent to different signals in the air like WiFi signals so she can send them electrically as well. However she risks heavy migraines with overuse. To make up for her very situational quirk she’s working on upping her physical strength.

Chloe: “Venom/Honeycomb” With Venom she can temporarily paralyze a specific part of an opponent. It’s not as strong as her mother’s Venom or her Aunt/Mentor Pollen’s Venom as it’s a quirk she’s gotten from her family, but she’s working on making sure she’s the most exceptional in the entire class, and making sure no one hears of her other quirk. Honeycomb, which is actually her main quirk and not secondary, gives her the ability to produce a honey like substance that can harden into resin following her will. Chloe refuses to use it for it is unexceptional. She must be like her mother or else..

Sabrina: “Emotional Pulse” Sabrina draws energy from the emotions around her to give her a physical boost. It can go from a strengthened punch to something looking like Detroit Smash. However a draw back can be that the emotions around her can start literally affecting her and somewhat tilting how she may feel. So in an angry environment she herself might start to become angry as well. Hyper empathy basically. And it makes her a little anxious about her identity as an individual.

Nathaniel: “Ink” Nathaniel basically water bends ink into creations he can control, quite literally drawing his creations to life. His limit is how much ink he has. Like that one fuckin Mickey Mouse game.

Alix: “Clockwise” For, at most, thirty seconds, Alix’s speed is super enhanced to an incredible degree, practically breaking time itself. This also enhances her strength and mind, pretty much giving her the spiritual equivalent of that one scene with QuickSilver or that one scene from Over the Hedge. However she can’t go over thirty seconds right now or else her body, mind, and definitely internal organs will begin to face serious damage. To make sure she can track herself, she has a pocket watch that she always has handy to remind her how much time has actually passed.

Kim: “Icarus” Kim can create wings out of a waxy substance from his back that allows him the power of flight. One of the most straightforward power here honestly. Like Icarus however, these wings can melt and can be destroyed. Kim, however, has a small control over the wax which means he could potentially be able to use it for something else, however this requires patience and control, something he lacks.

Max: “Locker” Pretty much, Max is able to set a “marker” on any enclosed space (of a arm reachable size, spanning from a literal locker or a luggage bag) and from anywhere in a 4 mile radius (that he can train to grow) Max is able to “reach into inside” and grab anything that’s inside there. However this space must exist, it’s not a pocket dimension, and so are the objects inside as well. This quirk is useful for holding emergency equipment or grabbing a quick weapon. However it has to be something he can actually hold and something he has already put in there, so he must calculate what would be useful so he can prioritize space and what he should bring with him.

Ivan: “Minotaur” Gives him attributes akin to The Minotaur. Though his appearance is mostly human, it does become more and more beastly as his anger or need to use his power rises.

Mylene: “Fear” Mylene gets a boost of power from the fear around her, which she has the ability to enhance to terrifying levels, leaving her victims in states of trauma and distress if she doesn’t control its degree. This quirk mutates her slightly to be akin in some way to the form of the person she’s using her quirk on’s fear. However she herself is easy to be scared so this backfires most of the time.

Juleka: “Vampire Bat” She can do anything a bat can do! Plus a bloody bonus. She has the power of echolocation which, if trained, can possibly knock down a small target. She doesn’t have wings but is working to incorporate some kind of glider into her hero design. As for that vampiric bonus, she has minor control over blood, able to bend it at will, however at this moment, the best she can do is make someone dizzy through a few edits with their blood stream.

Rose: “Perfume” Rose is able to admit a powerful perfume like gas which, upon inhaling, can reduce the victims into a drowsy state of mind. However she’s the only one immune to it so she must be extremely careful with how she uses it and who's around to possibly inhale it. A strange side effect from this quirk is that there’s a slight green tint to her blush.

Extras-

Luka: “Synesthesia” like the actual condition of synesthesia, he is able to visualize and conceptualize sound on different levels of understanding. With this, his hearing is incredibly sensitive and simply pressing an ear against the wall could help him develop an map of the entire building. He claims to hear the souls of others as well, which is supported by his ability to tell from illusion or reality just by his sense of hearing.

Kagami: “Storm” She has the entire essence of a storm wrapped up inside her. Though it may be confused with Class 1b’s Aurore Beaureal’s quirk “Weather” if you were to mistake those two, you would certainly get a lightning bolt to the stomach. Kagami’s quirk has been part of her family for generations, and as the up coming member of her hero family’s legacy, she is planning for no one to be in her way.

Marc: “Origami” Has complete control over paper and can manipulate them to become any creation they can think of, getting said creation’s attributes. So if Marc made a origami dog it might start barking and it’s teeth might become sharp enough to actually pierce skin, same if Marc made a paper sword. However the limitation is how much paper Marc actually has.

Lila: “Whistle” Lila can manipulate a person’s perception through the power of her whistle, causing possible hallucinations or problems in their sight. However it’s controlled by her whistle and it’s power so breathing exercises are important for her to do. To make things easier, she has taken up using the flute to better enhance her quirk.

Maybe in a different post I’ll talk about the different pro heroes, vigilantes, and villains.

#ml bnha au #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix #nathaniel kurtzberg #alix kubdel #kim le chien #max kante #ivan bruel #mylene haprele #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #marc anciel #lila rossi

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Twelve ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3433

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity if you prefer!**

A/n Sorry for the delay! Thanks for your patience and for reading :) Also, I’m so glad you liked the cuteness of the last chapter <3

I wake to an insistent pounding on my door.

I grumble against the noise and the sunlight, pulling the thick duvet over my head.

“Cosima,” a voice sings from behind the wood. “Rise and shine, it is well past lunchtime.”

I crack open an eye. The sun shimmers aggressively, forcing me into a state of awareness. Too early. But Rumil’s wake-up calls and knocking are insistent, so I haul myself out of bed and dress quickly, running a washcloth over my face and a brush over my teeth. When I’m decent, I swing open the door to fix Rumil with what I hope is a withering glare.

He grins brightly. “You look tired.”

“Wow, thank you,” I deadpan, opening the door wider to allow him in. He jaunts to the chaise lounge and reclines on the pillows, evidently in the mood to borrow the luxury of my guest room.

I offer him a glass of lemon water and pour one for myself, then sit on the couch opposite him.

He gives me a sly look. “You know, Haldir came into our room quite early this morning.”

I freeze mid-sip.

Rumil nods gleefully. “Woke me up—quite rude, if you ask me. Though I do have to wonder, what kept him out so late? Surely he was exhausted from his long day at the borders.”

I take a deep breath, trying to relax the tension that has shot its way into my shoulders. Rumil just likes to tease. You didn’t do anything wrong or scandalous — not even anything of interest.

He continues. “And then I come to visit my friend out of the goodness of my heart and find her sound asleep at two in the afternoon. She greets me at the door with such dark circles under her eyes — did she sleep at all? What was so interesting that kept both my brother and my good friend awake into the early hours of the morning?”

I roll my eyes, trying to seem nonchalant about it. After all, there’s no reason to feel cornered like Rumil is so obviously trying to achieve. “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the gardens when I ran into Haldir and he ended up coming with me.”

“To the gardens?”

“Yes.”

“Late at night?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, Rumil,” I huff.

He looks positively delighted. “And what did you do to pass all that time in the gardens late at night by yourselves?”

I squirm under his gaze then force myself to stop. It looks suspicious. “We talked a little. And then stargazed. At some point I fell asleep, he woke me up and walked me back to my room. The end.”

“The end,” Rumil echoes dubiously.

“Yes,” I insist, just about done with this conversation. It’s ridiculous — we did nothing to warrant this questioning. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask your brother.”

“I did.” My eyes blow wide in disbelief. Somehow, Rumil looks even more smug than he did a second ago. “He quite forcefully told me to leave him and you alone. Such a strong reaction over a little thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

I fight the urge to groan loudly and instead take a sip of my water. I cross one leg over the other. “Is there something you would like to say or are you just here to interrogate me?”

He shrugs, looking completely unapologetic. “No, I think I am done for now. I’ll let you know if that changes, though.”

“Please do,” I snark.

He stands, placing his glass on the table. “I did actually come here for a larger purpose. Orophin and Lavandil went riding and missed lunch, so we’re having an impromptu picnic in one of the towers. It has some lovely views. Would you join us?”

The emptiness in my stomach begs me to agree, but the word ‘tower’ gives me pause. Rumil guesses the direction of my thoughts and huffs. “The tower is encased in stone, it is perfectly safe. You would have to jump onto the barrier and lean over to be in danger of falling off.”

I consider his words. That doesn’t sound too bad, and I am hungry. “Alright,” I agree. “But I’m inviting Alex.”

Rumil makes a noise of general acceptance and gives me directions to the tower. Before leaving, he snatches one of the thicker quilts from a storage basket. “Cost of attendance is the blanket we use to sit on. See you there!” With a cheeky wink, he disappears, leaving me feeling whiplash from the quick turns in our conversation.

Before leaving to find Alex, I pull a few pillows from the seating area. They’ll make for some extra cushion on the hard stone. And, since Rumil annoyed me, he will not be getting one.

Ha.

At my knock, Alex throws his door open, greeting me with a wide smile. “Hello, Cosima.”

Well, that’s not what I was expecting. I blink and step into his room, careful not to tread on one of the many books and scrolls scattered around the floor. “Uh, you’re more chipper than I thought you would be after yesterday. How are you doing?”

He shrugs, throwing his hands into his pockets. “I mean, it didn’t feel great to find out that Elrond can’t help us, but I am holding out hope for Lady Galadriel. In the meantime, though, I’ve borrowed some materials from the library to see if there’s anything I can learn to help in getting us home. Most of them are in that Elvish language—Sindarin—so I’m having to learn the basics of the language first. Baranor offered to help — we’re meeting this evening after he’s done with his shift in the healing wards. Want to read the English ones with me and then come along? I’m sure he’d be fine with teaching you, too.”

“Um…” I trail off, feeling guilty. I’m attending a picnic with my friends while Alex is pouring over resources and learning the language of this land — he’s doing something helpful to try and get us home.

But if I’m being honest, I don’t want to do research right now. It’s not like there’s likely to be anything we could do, anyway. The best option is to just wait for Lothlórien and see what Lady Galadriel says. I clutch the bulky cushions tighter in my arms. “Can I take a rain check? A few of us are going to the tower to have a late lunch. That’s actually why I came here. Want to come?”

Alex looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You don’t want to see if there’s something in these books to help us?”

I shift my weight uneasily. “Not now…I haven’t eaten yet, and I already said I would go to the picnic. And I mean, come on, how likely is it that there’s something in those books Elrond isn’t aware of? It’s his library.”

“It has forty-two thousand volumes.”

“He’s lived a long time,” I defend weakly.

Alex’s eyes tighten into a glare.

“Look,” I try, “I’m gonna go eat, but what if I joined you and Baranor this evening? It’s smart to learn the language. And then maybe later I can help you look through these books.”

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, looking frustrated but resigned. “Yeah, that’s fine. We’re meeting at five-thirty on the second floor of the library.”

“Okay,” I exhale, relived to have avoided a larger argument “I’ll be there. You sure you don’t want to come eat?”

He shakes his head, crouching to the ground to pick up a particularly withered scroll. “No, I ate in the dining hall. See you tonight.”

“See you,” I mumble, backing out of the room. I feel bad for not helping him, but hopefully joining him and Baranor tonight will smooth things over.

Following Rumil’s directions are relatively easy and, before I know it, I’m navigating the hallways to one of the towers built into Elrond’s home.

“Cosima!”

I stop in my tracks and turn at Haldir’s call. He jogs to catch up to me, having just entered the long hallway, and greets me with a pleasant smile. As always, he looks perfectly rested and put together — not a strand of hair out of place. Today he wears a tunic of deep grey, his clear blue eyes standing out in stark contrast.

“Hi!” I wait for him to fall into step beside me. Unbidden, Rumil’s gleeful teasing enters my mind, and I feel my face go hot. What? I clear my throat. “Are you going up, too?”

“Yes, it’s—here,” he pulls the four bulky pillows from my grasp into his. My arms drop limply at my sides, suddenly relieved from their task. To give them something to do, I tug on the sides of my dress, trying to smooth the wrinkles that have somehow already appeared.

Haldir continues. “Rumil insisted it would be fun and it’s such a nice day I figured, why not?”

We turn a corner and begin our ascent up a tall spiral staircase. I remember a snippet of our conversation from last night. “Has Glorfindel come around?”

The edge of Haldir’s mouth pulls into a frown. “No. I talked with Elrond anyway and he’s agreed to my plan. It has set Glorfindel and myself at odds though, since I went over his head.”

I purse my lips. Though Haldir doesn’t say it, he’s clearly bothered by this outcome — it’s obvious he hoped to resolve things peacefully with Glorfindel and gain Elrond’s support. I hurry to try and make him feel better. “You did the right thing. So what if you went over his head? If it keeps people safe, I doubt it really matters how the plan came to be. And as commander, isn’t it his job to recognize advantageous strategies regardless of where they come from? I wouldn’t worry too much about being at odds with Glorfindel — the two of you will reconcile soon enough. And in the meantime, it’s good that Elrond agreed with you. Now Imladris has more time to better prepare.”

Haldir pauses on the step above me, turning with his head tilted slightly to the side.

I freeze. “What?” Did I intrude? Did I offend him somehow?

“No, it’s—I…” He sighs, offering me a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Oh, good. I breathe out in relief, returning his smile. We resume our climb.

“Elrond gave the order to call up the entire force and rotate the soldiers — they should all be switched in about a week. He’s asked me to oversee their training, to teach the strategies I use with my own guard in Lothlórien.”

I snort. “You’re going to work while you’re on vacation? That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard.”

He rolls his eyes, but the smile never leaves his face. “It’s important and something I enjoy, so I am happy to help. I haven’t forgotten my offer to you, though.”

I furrow my eyebrows. Huh?

“Do you still want to learn how to defend yourself?”

“Oh! Yeah, definitely, if you’ve got the time.”

He steps onto the landing, moving forward to make room for me. “Of course I’ve got the time.”

I step up next to him—

And immediately return to the staircase.

Haldir alternates between looking at me in confusion and scanning his eyes over our surroundings, wondering what would make me practically jump away from the landing.

He doesn’t have to wonder long.

“You said it was encased in stone,” I shout accusingly over Rumil’s wailing laughter.

“Did I say encased? I meant made of. Whoops, my mistake.”

“Rumil,” Haldir grumbles in annoyance, but that only seems to make his brother laugh harder.

The tower is not, as Rumil promised, encased in stone, but rather a circular platform with only a roof and four stone pillars to protect from falling. There is no guard wall or even a thin railing. And we are stories above the ground.

“Cosima, it’s alright,” Lavandil coos, though her encouraging words are damaged by her giggles. “Elves have wonderful balance, no one is going to let you fall. And look—we are set up right in the middle.”

“If it helps, I can shove Rumil off the tower to demonstrate elven reflexes,” Orophin offers through a chuckle.

This does make me feel slightly better, and I crack a small smile. On the step above me, Haldir waits patiently. Maybe I’m just being silly. I take a deep breath and step up to join Haldir on the landing.

And nearly sway in fear.

To my right and left are open sky — and too many feet below, the hard, deadly ground.

I suck in a sharp breath.

Rumil waves in joyful greeting. “Good to see you both. Now do sit down, Cosima, I worry you will faint and tumble over the edge.”

His words resonate with a very real fear and I scurry forward and practically throw myself onto the blanket. Haldir follows closely behind, offering a cushion to myself and Lavandil before using another to hit his youngest brother over the head. Even in my nervous state, I can’t help but join Orophin and Lavandil in their shocked laughter.

“Didn’t our parents teach you not to lie,” Haldir drawls, dropping the cushion to my left and sitting upon it. He tosses the other to Orophin, raising an eyebrow at Rumil as if asking him to challenge his choice.

Rumil grins, completely unaffected. “Then I apologize, dear Cosima, but your face was hilarious. And don’t you know we all like you too much to let you die?”

I huff, rolling my eyes and feeling better as long as I focus on the faces of my friends rather than the nearness of the edge. “Thanks.”

Lavandil wisely changes the subject. “No Alex?”

I shake my head. “He’s doing some research today. I’m supposed to meet him in the library at five-thirty — Baranor’s going to teach us Sindarin.”

A chorus of approval runs through the group.

“That’s a useful skill,” Rumil nods, taking a sip of what looks like orange juice.

“I’d be happy to practice conversation with you once you learn the basics,” Lavandil offers, and I accept readily. From the little I’ve spoken with her, I like Lavandil, and it would be nice to spend more time with her.

Tired of being the focus, I turn the conversation on my friends. I gesture between Lavandil and Orophin. “How did you two meet?”

Lavandil launches into an animated account of her relationship with Orophin from start to where they are now. Apparently, they met eight years prior when Haldir and Orophin were part of a company escorting Lady Galadriel to Imladris. Orophin was taken with her immediately, but it took Lavandil a little longer to come around.

“I always swore I would marry an architect—anyone but a solder,” she laments with comical exaggeration. “But eventually he persuaded me to give him a chance, and I haven’t looked back since.”

Orophin takes her hand in his and squeezes, staring at her like she’s the center of his world.

I don’t want to pry, but I do wonder how elven relationships differ from human ones. Just the time they’ve been courting—eight years—is much longer than I think is the standard for humans. I am lacking in memory, but surely with how short human lifespans are, they get married quicker? I make a note to ask Lavandil or Rumil about this later. Though, with all Rumil’s teasing of late, Lavandil is probably the safer option.

After I learn how Lavandil and Orophin got together, I have a lot of other questions about the lives these friends of mine lived before I knew them. As afternoon passes into evening, I discover that Rumil—unsurprisingly—has been the instigator of no less than four human bar fights, Lavandil once snuck from her childhood home to try and explore the mountains (and was promptly sent back to a furious mother), Orophin is apparently the life of the party after a bottle of Elvish wine, and, in his first few years of the guard, Haldir constantly challenged his superiors, to the point where they would send him off on solo trips just to be rid of the relentless suggestions. Before I know it, the first stretches of sunset streak through the sky and it’s nearing the time I set to meet Alex and Baranor.

I stand, sighing with no small amount of regret. I wish I could stay here with them all night. “I’ll see you tomorrow! I’ve got to get to the library for lessons.”

Rumil waves goodbye. “I’ll drop the blanket and cushions in your room. You know, as penance for tricking you.”

I roll my eyes, concentrating on his face rather than the open sky all too close to my feet. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it, but thank you.”

“Do you know the way?” Lavandil looks up at me with mild concern. I assure her that I’ve visited the library before and am mostly confident in my ability to not get lost.

Haldir wraps an apple and some bread in cloth and passes me the bundle. In response to my raised eyebrow, he quirks a knowing smile. “Baranor is likely to keep you well past dinner. He loves his lectures.”

I chuckle, agreeing that Baranor probably will, and thank my friend. After a final round of goodbyes, I hurry as quickly and carefully as I can to the security of the stairwell and head in the direction of the library.

{***}

Sindarin is complicated. Baranor seems to have an endless reserve of patience — how? I have no clue.

Alex struggles just as much as I do, but it is clear that he is more dedicated than I and pushes to keep his attention into the late hours of the night. I’m grateful Haldir had the forethought to send me with food, as are Alex and Baranor, who share the dinner. By the time ten o’clock rolls around, I’m fighting back yawns. I think I’ve got the alphabet down, though that isn’t even technically Sindarin — it’s the writing system called Tengwar — so I don’t even have any conversational phrases to try with Lavandil.

At midnight, Baranor finally calls it, acknowledging that he will need some sleep if he is to put in a full day tomorrow of researching with Elrond and doing a shift in the healing wards. But he graciously commits to teaching us three evenings a week after dinner and maintains that, after practice and time, we will improve.

We say our goodbyes and I practically stumble out of the library. I can think of nothing more than my plush duvet and cool mattress. Alex, on the other hand, somehow almost vibrates with energy. He seems rejuvenated, renewed, and for the first time, I recognize him as the same man in my memories — no longer is he weighed down by malnutrition, injury, exhaustion, and defeat. But it’s more than that. He’s no longer angry — hope lights up his eyes. He smiles broadly and insists on walking me to my room.

“Worried you’re gonna fall over, Cosi,” he reasons, sending me a wink. Even in my tired state, I have to blanch. It’s like being with a whole new person. But at the same time, I know this person. I like this Alex. At the very least, I know what to expect from him — he’s the friend I remember.

Though I do worry…what will happen to him if this search for answers is a dead end? What if we can’t get home?

I don’t want to think about how he would feel, then.

I don’t want to think about how I would feel, then.

We climb the stairs and reach my door, pausing outside it momentarily. I turn to my friend, giving him a sleepy smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too,” he agrees, leaning against the doorframe. “I just needed something to do. Now I don’t feel so helpless. And you’re okay? After yesterday’s setback?”

I sigh against the drowsiness. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Don’t you worry about me.”

He nudges my shoe with his. “Good. Alright, I’ll leave you alone. Sleep tight, Cosi.”

I smile, waving as he walks down the hallway. “Night, Alex.”

Entering my room, I see that Rumil kept to his word and left the folded blanket on my couch with the four pillows stacked neatly on top. Still doesn’t atone for all his foolishness today. Crawling into my bed, I instantly fall asleep.

A/n Thanks for reading! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Comments, likes, and reblogs make my day!

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Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #rumil #orophin #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc

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urlocalnctstan · 4 years

Text

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.”

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car.

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.”

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter.

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack.

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder.

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite.

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction.

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well.

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom.

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty.

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance.

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second.

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face.

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

part 2

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teamhook · 3 years

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Emma and Killian :: Kate and Leopold CS AU for CSMM

Hello lovelies!! So I’m on a schedule and you will be getting updates for my fics. 3 per Month ;)

I want to thank @captainswanmoviemarathon and the wonderful CSMM Discord Family. My co-writer @revanmeetra87

I want to also thank @ultraluckycatnd for Beta-ing thiis thing for us.

|FFN|

|AO3|

Friday and The Weekend

Killian and David shared a guilty look. They had both behaved like children. Killian knew he had more than the other, in part due to his inebriety and the other part was jealousy of what he didn't know. Killian said goodnight to his mate and went home to ponder on his actions.

He decided he would try his best to make amends to her. So he did what he did best, put his thoughts on paper, and hoped that it would grant him redemption.

The next day, Emma woke up and got ready fast. She had to get to work and somehow fix the mess her brother and that jerk that couldn't keep his mouth shut had made.

David greeted her in the kitchen with a cup of coffee ready for her which she promptly snubbed and rushed out.

David had arranged for Emma to find the letter that Killian had dropped off earlier, but she was eager to leave the apartment. He knew they both had misbehaved and his sister was in her right to be angry at them.

He grabbed both the letter and the first fruit in the basket he could and dashed after her.

Emma had reached the street and was just about to hail a cab when she heard David's voice. "Ems! Emma, wait!"

She halted because she loved her idiot brother, and it's them against the world.

She turned to face him with her best 'you're in trouble' face.

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry. I know I fucked things up for us. I know that everything you do is for us to have a better life."

Emma stared her brother down. "I have to go clean up the mess you two made."

"Emma, I know and for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry. Here, you can't go to work on an empty stomach," David said as he handed her a papaya. "Yeah, I know that," Emma says as she looks to the street for a cab. That's when he slipped the letter into her bag. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Emma arrived at work, waiting for the fallout of the previous night, but it never came. She was told there's a meeting with marketing, and she was the last one to arrive. She rushed into the conference room and took a seat so they could finally begin. The marketing team was going over the troubles they had come across due to the texture of the margarine. Emma peeked at her boss to see if looked angry or like the usual. She really doesn't see a change in him, but they have yet to talk. She sighed and opened her bag to pull out some papers. An envelope caught her eye and she quietly opened it.

Dearest Emma...

I behaved as an imbecile last night, animated in part by drink, in part by your beauty, and in part by my own foolish pride and for that, I am profoundly sorry. Please accept, as a gesture of apology for my bad form, a private dinner on the rooftop tonight at 8 O'Clock.

Yours truly, Killian

Emma felt her cheeks blush as her thoughts were interrupted by her boss.

"Emma, dear, where are we on Farmer's Bounty?" Mr. Oz asked.

Emma turned to her boss and took a deep breath. "We are good. As you know, we found our spokesperson. The response room final showed a 98 in the top two boxes. His key female descriptors were handsome, romantic, and with some write-ins of "What a babe".

Mr. Oz sullenly replied with a simple, "Great."

As they ended the meeting and everyone went back to work, Mary Margaret was waiting for her. Emma handed her assistant her bag and rushed after Walsh to say her apologies.

"Mr. Oz, I mean Walsh, I just want to apologize for what happened last night," Emma said.

"I appreciate that," he simply said.

"So are we okay?" she asks, hopeful.

"Yes, we are. Now if you would excuse me, I have to make some calls. We will talk later," Walsh said as he walked to his office.

Meanwhile, Jefferson was losing his patience at the Hospital. He just wanted to get released so he could get home and get Killian back to his time. Out of pure desperation, he thought explaining the situation to his doctor would be enough, but Dr. Hyde wasn't as receptive as he had hoped.

"I didn't jump to my death. I fell because there was no elevator," Jefferson clarified.

Dr. Hyde nodded. "And you feel it's somehow your fault?"

"Well, it stands to reason that nature would correct itself since my great-great-grandfather isn't there to invent the elevator or spawn his seed," Jefferson added matter of factly.

"Both you and the elevator would cease to exist, but clearly do," the doctor said.

Jefferson shook his head. "I can see you are a very busy man and I hate to take up your valuable time. I'm not one of those people who need your attention. Would you please just sign my release papers?"

Dr. Hyde sighed. "I'm concerned you might be a danger to yourself. State law requires that I keep you here in such cases. I'm afraid I cannot in good conscience sign your release."

Jefferson tried to open the door while balancing on crutches.

Before he could open it, the door flew open. "Dr. Hyde, is there a problem?" a lovely woman asked.

"No Priscilla, everything is fine. Could you please assist Jefferson back to his room and ensure this prescription is filled?" Dr. Hyde said to his nurse.

"Jefferson, I'm going to prescribe a mild antipsychotic. Nothing too strong."

Wandering around in circles in Game of Thorns, David looked over his notes, nerves getting worse with each lap.

"Mary Margaret, did you want - no, Mary Margaret, would you like...uggh…"

He was never going to convince her to go on a date if he tried mumbling and bumbling through his invitation. He was already humiliated, and he wasn't even asking her yet!

Outside of the flower shop, he could see Killian handing a street musician some cash as he made a request. Just what the request was, David couldn't quite hear.

Well, he had enough of his own problems to deal with, in any case.

Killian then entered the shop, and David practically pounced on him. "Listen, Killian, about the things you wrote for me here, for Mary Margaret...Some if it seems kind of…"

"Did you pick your flowers?" Killian asked, looking at him expectantly.

"Oh. Yep. Right, uhhh...here," David said, grabbing the nearest arrangement. "Now, about this speech-"

"Oh no, this will not do," Killian said, concerned.

"What, the flowers?" David looked at them for the first time. They seemed pretty enough to him. Plenty of colors. They even smelled nice.

"The orange lily suggests extreme hatred. The begonia and lavender danger and suspicion, respectively. Every flower has a meaning." Glancing around him, Killian grasped an enormous (and to David, absurd-looking) flower and held it in front of David. "Might I suggest the amaryllis, which declares the recipient a most splendid beauty. Or-" Breaking off, Killian strode forward. "- the cabbage rose…"

Sighing, hoping Killian was right about all this, David followed.

Inside her office, Emma lifted a piece of paper that was accepting Killian's invitation.

The only problem?

She hadn't written it.

Grinding her teeth, trying to pretend she was angry at her assistant and not at the fact that she did want to accept Killian's offer, Emma called for Mary Margaret.

Almost immediately, Mary Margaret poked her head in the office. "Yes?"

"What is this?" asked Emma, waving the paper in the air.

"It's your agreement to having dinner with Killian," she responded, as though there was nothing unusual about it. "I made it up for you to sign."

"I hadn't decided if I was going!" Emma cried, slapping the letter on her desk. She knew she was overreacting, but the thought of a private dinner with Killian was making her so...so stupidly nervous.

Mary Margaret lifted her chin, and a bit of fire entered her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said in the strongest voice Emma had ever heard from her. "But that is the best apology in the history of mankind, and if you don't go with him, I know you will regret it! Please, just sign it, and we can fax it to him. There is still time."

Taken aback by her usually shy assistant's firm manner, Emma closed her eyes, bit her lip, and grabbed for her pen.

Inside Jefferson's apartment, Killian was cooking the meal for his dinner with Emma. To his relief and delight, he had received the fax confirming her presence.

Taking his eyes from the stove, while still being attentive to his work, Killian watched as David paced the room nervously with the telephone to his ear.

Suddenly, with a little start, David said, "Oh, hi Mary Margaret; it's me, David. I was calling to see if you got my flowers. I mean your flowers. I mean the ones I sent?" He paused for a breath, then said "Good!" to the reply. He then looked to Killian, voice stalling.

Killian gave him a smile and a nod. "You can do this, my friend."

Pressing onward, David continued. "I was wondering if you would like to go to a movie, and then...perhaps accompany me to dinner?" Waving his free hand, he rushed on, "I-I-I-I understand completely if you are otherwise engaged. But, uh, I just wanted to say, umm…" Stopping to consult his notes, a small furrow appeared in David's brow.

"Come on. No need to be ashamed. You can do the speech as written," Killian encouraged silently.

"I wanted to say you've made an impression on me. And...and it's not only because you are so pretty. I mean, you're very pretty, but it's more than that. It's, umm...You're graceful. You know, the way you move, and speak. You just have a way with words. And I really, really like you."

There was a very long pause, during which David looked terrified. Then, responding to what Mary Margaret had said, he mumbled, "Seven? Yes! Yes, seven would be great. Would be fantastic. See you then!"

He ended the call, then jumped straight up in the air victoriously. "I did it! I am going out with Mary Margaret!"

Killian chuckled as David did a small dance.

"I gotta go get ready!" David exclaimed.

Emma arrived home and she would deny it to anyone, but she was a little excited about the dinner date with Killian. She was about to go to her room to get ready when her brother came out of his room looking very handsome. He had a silly grin on his face that she had not seen in a while.

David smiled wide at his sister as he greeted her with a quick kiss on her cheek.

"You look very handsome David. I didn't know you were going out tonight."

"Yeah, I have plans. It was unplanned until earlier today."

"So is this a big date?" she asked.

"Yeah, Ems I really like this girl."

"Who is the lucky lady?"

"Uhm, if it goes well, I'll tell you tomorrow, but I just don't want to jinx it."

Emma nodded. "Okay, good luck, and for what it's worth, she is lucky to have your attention."

"Thanks, and I think you are supposed to say that cause you are my sister."

"Just stating facts, David. You don't give yourself enough credit. You are one of the good ones."

"Ems, so are you. Have fun tonight, okay?"

She smiled. "I will. Now go before you are late for the big date!"

Finally, in her room, she opened her closet. She ruffled through the hangers, trying to find the right outfit. Her eyes landed on a pale pink dress she purchased years ago, and it never felt right to wear until now.

The dress fit perfectly and it made her feel like a true princess. She put her hair in a high ponytail with very light makeup, just enough to heighten her looks. Why was she so nervous?

It was time to make her way up to the roof.

Emma opened the roof door slowly and was astonished at the display in front of her. There were fairy lights hanging, creating a magical environment, and a man was playing the violin. The table was set with candlelight, and she could see a wine bottle next to plates and the tray with the food. Her mouth opened at the effort Killian made to please her.

"This is beautiful! You didn't have to go to so much trouble," Emma said, biting her bottom lip.

"No trouble at all, lass," Killian confirmed as he met her to guide her to her seat.

"May I?" he asked as he grabbed the chair to pull it out for her.

She nodded, unable to speak. He looked handsome wearing his old-timey outfit. Perhaps the atmosphere he created made him appear as if he was the lead in a romantic novel.

Emma stared into the night for a moment. "My mom was a true romantic." She smiled fondly. "She cried for weeks after Prince Charles and Lady Di got married."

Killian furrowed his brows. "I'm not familiar with them."

"Oh, trust me, you wouldn't want to be. A cautionary tale, proof that you can't live a fairy tale," Emma said and added, "I'm not very good with men."

"Perhaps you haven't found the right one," he said hopefully.

"Maybe, True Love only exists in fairy tales."

"My brother told me I had become a blemish on the family name due to an indiscretion from my youth, and now he tries to marry me off every chance he gets. I would be married now if I hadn't followed Jefferson. I was to announce a bride that night."

"Who?"

He sighed. "I don't know, it didn't matter to him. I suppose the one with the most money. Our family fortune is gone, and all we have is the family name."

After they finished eating, Emma stood up to start cleaning.

"What are you doing?" Killian asked.

"Just cleaning up."

"The night is not over yet. Would you do me the honor of a dance? Please?" he asked as he extended his hand for her to take.

"I'm not a good dancer," she said as she took his hand.

"There's only one rule. Pick a partner who knows what he's doing." He winked, pulling her close to him as she rolled her eyes, and they started gliding.

"Smee always told me love is a leap. I was never ready to jump until I met you."

"Killian, this was lovely but I don't know if I can leap, even if I am inspired." The lightness she had felt while dancing with him was sinking into harsh reality. And she was afraid. "I'm not...not brave enough."

Then, in the next moment, he was quoting something to her, something beautiful and flowery and perfectly Killian, and she was kissing him, warmth spreading from her chest all the way to her toes.

The next morning, after a wonderful date with Mary Margaret, David woke to the sound of Killian cooking breakfast.

They exchanged hellos, each asking how the other's date went. According to Killian, his date had also gone well.

David was pleased, but something was nagging at him. Emma was so rarely happy these days. And it was great that Killian was helping her to take down her walls, but if things were to continue...well, he wanted to make sure Emma was with someone she could really trust.

"Look, Killian, I have to ask you…" David trailed off. "Who are you? I mean, really?"

Killian spread some jam on toast, seeming confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's been a lot of fun doing the duke act with you, but...Emma's been through a lot, and I don't want her to have to deal with even more."

Killian lifted his hand. "I understand, David."

"So...Who are you?"

With a deep breath, Killian said, "I am the man who loves your sister. Who would go to the end of the world, or time, for her."

And with that, David was reassured.

David showed Killian how to master the dishwasher after breakfast was made. Killian was still in awe of the technology of the time.

"Just make sure Emma sees you push the button. Whatever you do, don't press it until she is awake to see you do it."

"Oh, clever. The proverbial tree in the woods. If a man washes a dish and no one sees it...Did it happen?"

"Exactly!" David said, excitedly.

Emma then made her appearance. Her stomach growled at the delicious scent.

Killian's smile welcomed her. "Love, a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, thank you."

David watched the pair making eyes at each other and decided not to be a third wheel and made his escape. Perhaps he could call Mary Margaret to make more plans.

Killian got a plate ready for Emma as she took her seat.

"Nine-grain toast with strawberries and mascarpone, my lady."

"Yum, this is really good," she moaned as she took bite after bite.

He hadn't seen anything as beautiful in his life.

Emma took the last bite and turned to Killian with a smile. "What should we do today?"

"Your heart's desire," Killian simply answered.

Emma and Killian get dressed, independently of course. Killian Jones was always a gentleman, after all. They set out to explore the city together.

Killian stopped at a market table full of sunglasses.

Emma snorted. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, no," she said as she took the glasses away from him, scrunched her face, and put them back on their display.

Killian looked so sad as he faced her.

"Make that face all you want, but those glasses were so inappropriate for you."

He quirked an eyebrow and they resumed their walk.

Killian gasped. "Emma, love. Emma, come!" he said excitedly as he pulled her toward a house.

"Killian, what are you doing?" she hissed.

He had gotten them inside the house; it appeared to be a museum of sorts.

"Bloody hell! This is where I lived. Good Lord. A portrait of my parents, my brother... and me." He pulled her up the stairs.

Emma looked at the portrait and gulped as she passed it. She still tried to find logic and deny what he told her was true. "Killian, I don't think that we should just be barging around here like that."

Killian held her hand as he pulled her all over the house before he stopped and stood in front of one of the rooms. He faced her with a smile. "Emma, this is my old quarters," he said as he walked to his hidden spot.

Emma looked around frantically. "What are you doing?"

He put pressure on a spot, then they heard a crackling sound. "Emma, this is the place where I put everything I most cared for. Things I didn't want Liam to touch. Like our mother's ring." He showed her a beautiful ring that he somehow knew its hiding place, and she hated to think what that truly meant for them, so she ignored the nagging pull in her heart.

Emma smiled. "Oh, it's breathtaking."

Later that evening, Emma and Killian finally end up cuddled on the sofa together after their day exploring the city.

Emma had her hand on his chest, playing with the hair there. She felt so comfortable in his arms. She sighed. "Do you..."

"Hmm, What would like to know, love?" he asked as he gently caressed her back.

She sighed and shifted in his embrace to see his face. "Do you miss where you're from?"

"Ah, I suppose I do in a way. There are things I miss, such as its rhythm."

"Is that slower like today?"

"Aye, quite a bit slower." He smiled.

She groaned. "That means that tomorrow is Sunday. I don't want it to be Sunday. What I do want is more of this." She snuggled closer to him.

He laughed heartily.

"Ooh, Monday is when we shoot your commercial so that's something exciting." She hummed comfortably from her cozy little bubble.

Not long after that, she drifted into sleep.

Killian kissed the top of her head and took out his mother's ring. He knew she had fallen asleep and it was now a lost moment. He picked her up and took her to bed, and tucked her in affectionately.

Emma said sleepily, "You're tucking me in."

"Aye."

"Huh, you're my Smee."

"Yes, I am Your Grace."

"Hey, hey, you don't have to... don't go upstairs. Stay."

He nodded and got in bed behind her, spooning her. He whispered, "I love you, Emma," in her ear before drifting off to sleep himself.

@rumdrum91 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @donteattheappleshook @spacekrulesbians @lassluna @carpedzem @captainodonoghue @killian-will-do @jarienn972 @tehgreeneyes @demisexualemmaswan @queen-serena88 @swanslieutenant @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @ohmakemeahercules @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @mariakov81 @sals86 @elizabeethan @brooke-to-broch @hookedonhiddles @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @cocohook38 @zaharadessert

#Captain Swan #CSMM #CSMM20 #cs ff #Captain Swan Movie Marathon

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary: The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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slashscowboyboots · 4 years

Text

The Blackboard Jungle: All I Want For Christmas Is You (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Izzy tweeted! And in celebration, here’s the final part of this fic

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @no-stone-no-bone @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @harley-m-rose @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: the f-bomb, total holiday fluff

You wound your way through the department store, dodging people and wanting to puke from all the Christmas music as you searched for your mother a nice gift. She was the last one you had to buy for, and you wanted to get her just the perfect thing this year.

I think she has plenty of snow globes, you thought, absentmindedly turning one upside down and watching the glitter float down, then heard someone call your name.

You turned and looked into the grinning face of Miss Peterson, Patti’s third-grade teaching cohort.

“Hiiiii, doll,” she chirped.

“Hello, Cindy, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m just great. Are you shopping for your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend? I don’t-”

“Patti told me all about it. I mean, well she made a long post on Instagram, how the two of you had been friends for so long, good friends, at least she was to you, and you chose that Jeff Isbell over the happiest day of her life-”

“Did she really?” you snapped. “Well, since the two of you are so close, please tell her I said, ‘Merry Christmas.’” And go fuck yourselves, you thought, deciding your mother would enjoy a very nice pair of diamond earrings.

It was unbelievable to you, how you and Jeff were the names on everyone’s lips anymore, especially since it was all so mistaken. It was heartbreaking how everyone thought you were a couple, when you were simply coworkers who were also close friends.

Of course, you were never able to get him out of your head, especially since the Thanksgiving program. Your combined classes had first traced their hands and colored their drawings in, decorating their turkey pictures with feathers and googly eyes (you stifled a laugh watching the Harrison twins hungrily eyeing the paste, and snorted when you saw Jeff leaping over a chair with his gangly legs to glue their turkey eyes down himself) and enjoying their lunches together.

He had excused himself during the break, and you paused while eating your sandwich, thinking about how really good he was as a teacher, how he never once talked down to the kids or lost his patience with them. He always had time to listen to them, hanging onto their every word.

And they loved him in return, every single one of them showing them their turkeys the second they finished them, and the amount of praise he heaped on their artwork made you smile.

Putting away your lunch bag with a sigh, you looked up just in time to see a six foot tall turkey, complete with wattles, standing in the doorway of your classroom. His tail feathers were so impressive he had to turn sideways just to make it through the doorway.

The children erupted in cheers, and Mr. Isbell strode in and fanned his plumage to their great delight, then announced that if they all quieted down, he would read to them, “Bear Gives Thanks.” After he closed the book, he asked them what they all were thankful for.

He got various answers, from “my new puppy” to “my dad got a new job.” But the one that stood out the most was from Cicely Brown. She raised her hand and said in a quiet voice, “Mr. Isbell, I’m thankful for a teacher like you.”

Tears pooled in his eyes, and you heard a catch in his voice when he whispered, “Thank you.” He turned around (well, awkwardly walked in a circle to turn around) to you and asked, “Miss Y/L/N, what are you thankful for?”

“Hmmm. I’m thankful for friends. And I’m thankful for every person that’s in this room.”

His eyes met yours, his smoldering gaze still able to buckle your knees. “Me too.”

“But I don’t want to be an elf.”

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N, I went and got an elf costume just for you. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

You put your hands on your hips and pouted. “I have plenty of Christmas spirit. Why can’t I be Mrs. Claus?”

“Because she doesn’t hand out candy canes. She stays home and entertains strange men while Santa works all night.”

“Oh, she does not!” You smacked Jeff’s arm, shaking your head. He really was going to talk you into this getup, wasn’t he?”

You took it from him and he said, “Hurry up and get changed. I need you to help me put on the Santa suit.”

“Why do you need help?” you called from the coatroom, pulling your green and red striped tights on.

“Because I make a skinny Santa, and I have to hold the belly while you button the jacket.”

When you came out, he had already changed into his Santa pants and boots and was sitting at your desk expectantly holding a pillow over his chest and stomach.

“Jeff, you really should eat more if you want to wear this suit,” you laughed, buttoning the buttons over his padded belly.

He made a face, and you said, “What?”

“Nobody calls me Jeff except for my mom.”

“What do they call you?” you asked, puzzled.

“Izzy. Or Iz, if you’re into the whole brevity thing.” He buckled his belt as all the wind left you, then he slapped your elf hat onto your head. Flicking the bell to make it jingle, he said, “C’mon, Sugar Cookie, let’s make a bunch of little people happy.”

It was entirely possible that you wished all the students a Joyous Holiday and handed them a candy cane after they visited with Santa. You had no idea if you actually did, the earth had screamed to a halt after you’d heard Jef-uh, Izzy’s admission.

After all the pupils had left, he shot you a delighted grin, then furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Hey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you said softly. “I’m….hot.”

“Me too. Let’s get changed and go back to the party.”

Although you were dazed, you flung your elf costume off in record time, exiting the coatroom in time to see Izzy unbutton his Santa jacket and toss aside his pillow. He slumped in your chair clad in a white undershirt, slinging an arm against his forehead to wipe off the sweat, and when he dropped it down beside him you could see a tattoo just below his elbow.

Without thinking, you walked over to him and picked up his wrist. Written in delicate script high on his inner forearm was desperadosdreams.

He tried to pull away from you, then he noticed you gasping for air with tears in your eyes. “Does that make sense to you?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, then pressed your lips to his, leaning down and throwing your arms around his neck. When you pulled away for a breath, you looked into his eyes, then pushed the sleeve of your shirt up and extended your arm.

“Does that say IZ?” he asked in a halting voice, and you nodded again, then climbed onto his lap for another passionate kiss. You carded your fingers through his hair as his lips traveled down the front of your throat, then he rubbed his nose against yours as you heard PJ Jones say, “I saw Miss Teacher kissing Santa Claus. And he liked it!”

“Hi, Ian!” you smiled, holding up your ring finger.

“Hi!” he grinned. “Ooh, that’s nice! Congratulations!”

You held your phone toward Izzy. “Ian, this is Izzy.”

“Oh, shit, he’s cute,” Sia said. “Hi, Sexy!”

“Izzy, this is Sia. She’s Ian’s fiancee.”

“Well……” she said, then they both held up their ring fingers.

“Omigosh! You guys got married?!” you exclaimed.

“Yes! I had to promote ‘Sharknado’ at the MGM Grand, and well, since we were in Vegas, we-”

Sia interrupted, “We found this Elvis impersonator, and it was so tacky and cool, I couldn’t have asked for a better wedding.”

“Congratulations! Can you guys come to ours?”

“When is it?” Ian asked, with Sia hollering “Hell yeah!” in the background.

“Next spring. We don’t want to wait that long.” You leaned over and pecked Izzy on the lips. “We’ve waited our whole lives to find each other, we want our married life to begin as soon as possible.”

Thank you so much for being a part of this fic! Because of wedding plans and moving and all that good jazz, I won’t be writing fics online anymore, but I will never forget how wonderful it was to have all your support. Love you always, desperadosdreams

“I do,” you said.

“You bet I do,” Blaze said, sliding your beautiful wedding band on your finger.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Blaze, kiss your bride,”

He swept you in his strong arms, spinning you around, then dipped you and kissed you hard, the first kiss of the rest of your lives, as the fiery red sun sank in the horizon behind the two of you.

Now it was time for the two of you to begin your lives together, and dream as one. And as he kissed you again, you knew you’d found forever, and he had been worth waiting for.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic

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dream-woke · 4 years

Text

Something About Spiderman

[Peter Parker Imagine]

About: While watching tv with Peter, he grows frustrated with how much you like Spiderman.

Warnings: None

Note: I had a habit of writing Tom instead of Peter, so if you see any Toms anywhere in the story, instead if Peter, please let me know.

~Not my gif~

“How does one miss this much school?” You questioned, looming over the table of unorganized papers.

Peter had begged for you to come over and help him get through all the work he’s missed, and you had repeatedly told him no. If it had been any other week, there was a chance you might’ve said yes. But, you had to stay home all week just in case the plumber had finally decided to stop by like he was supposed to three days ago to fix the sink. So, Peter being Peter, had popped up at your door with a folder too big to be true and four deli sandwiches crammed into his hoodie.

“The internship wants a lot from me, like they want my attention twenty times more than any other employee.” He said, his voice muffled due to his mouth full of sandwich.

“So then why are you still an intern?” You asked, twirling your pencil in your hands. He looked at you with a blank face, but said nothing and began to rummage through the papers, ignoring your comment. You snorted at him, then reached to grab your sandwich and take a bite.

“Okay so, we should start on the easy stuff first.” You stated, wiping your mouth with a crumbled napkin next to you. Peter began searching amongst the papers, once he had found what he needed, he placed the paper between the two of you.

“Alright, so we should start with science and then move onto math and then reading.” Peter stated all of the subjects from hardest to easiest - for you of course - and had opened his science book to the page. You cocked your brow at the brunette, questioning whether or not he truly needed your help. Peter noticed your look of confusion.

“Ah, sorry. I forgot your not good at science,” he said and paused before taking a deep breath in and out. “Or math. ” Peter snickered, looking away from you and at the paper.

Clicking your tongue, you playfully punched his arm, causing him to let out an ‘ow’. “I’ll have you know Parker, that I have a B in that class thank you very much.” You contorted, swiftly taking the paper from his hands, as well as the book.

After an hour had passed, you had set your pencil down onto the table, and stretched your arms above your head. Peter had snuck a glance at the exposed skin of your stomach right before it was covered by your shirt after putting your arms back down. Clearing his throat, Peter put his pencil down.

“Maybe we should take a break, watch some tv or something.” He said, getting up from the chair and darting into the living room before you could state your opinion. Shrugging your shoulders, you got up from your seat.

Following him, you plopped yourself down onto the floor next to Peter, leaning your backs up against the sofa. Peter had turned on the tv and both of you were met with the latest news of Spiderman. Its was much of the same stuff - Spiderman swinging around the neighborhood, stopping robbers and drug deals. Even so, you were always hooked onto anything that had involved the web slinging, crime stopper.

Peter looked at the tv and then towards you. His eyes bouncing back and forth, he noticed how immerse you were by the view of him swinging around just to save a cat from tree. But the fact that you didn’t know it was him bothered him. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel like this was the most anyones ever contradicted themselves - being jealous of himself. Using his foot, he knocked it against yours to grab your attention.

“(Y/N)?” You let out a ‘mhm’ but never broke your gaze from the tv. Peter thought about doing it again, but decided that it was enough for you to listen to him.

“Why do you like him so much?” Peter said, sounding a bit unsure of his question. But it was enough for you to break your gaze from the small screen. Looking at him and then at the ground, you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know, theres just... something about him.” You answered, straightening your posture up against the couch. Peter narrowed his brows at your statement.

“Like what?”

You bit your lip as you were thinking, looking at the small owl statue that decorated the coffee table.

“I think... I don’t think it’s just the fact that he’s a hero or that he’s mysterious,” You stopped, thinking once more before continuing. “I think its the way he’s so much more normal compared to all the other heroes.”

Peter had sat up away from the sofa, getting a better look at your face. “I mean, from what I do know about him, I’m pretty sure I’d love to meet him. Someone like him, he sounds great.” You finished off, with a gentle smile.

At that Peter had felt his chest clench, in warmth and in envy. After about twenty minutes, you were ready to end your break. Stretching once more, you turned towards Peter, who was already looking at you in deep thought.

“Pete?” You said, breaking him from his contemplation.

“Yeah, uh, sure.” He said, looking flustered. You snorted and playfully punched his arm.

“We should finish the work while we have the time.” You tilted your head towards the dining room.

However, as you were getting up, Peter suddenly grabbed your hand, causing you to face him with a questioning look. Looking straight into your (E/C) eyes, Peter gave your hand a light squeeze.

“(Y/N)?” He said. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he was doing and right now it felt too late to pull back from whatever his body was going to do. He inhaled sharply before pushing it out. He looked at your hand in his, feeling how right it felt, how perfect your hand fit in his. Dragging his thumb over your fingers, he bit his lip, averting his gaze towards yours once again.

“Do you...” He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing across your face. You waited for him to speak, but instead was met with the feeling of the atmosphere shifting into something much different than the one before.

The look in his eyes was causing goosebumps to crawl up your arm, it was beginning to kill you inside, feeding into your lack of patience. But this lack of patience was different than the others. The way he was staring at you, biting into his lip, and the warmth of his hand - this was a different kind of impatience.

“Do you like Spiderman more than you like me?”

He was waiting for you to answer, but you couldn’t find yourself thinking straight - especially with the way he was looking at you. “I-I...” You tried to speak but the tension between the two of you was so strong, it was as if you forgot how to speak. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips.

Feeling as if there was a magnetic force, pulling the two of you together, you both had began to lean in. First it was his nose brushing against yours. And then it was his lips brushing against yours as he tilted his head to the side. Your breathing fell of beat, hitching as his hand let go of yours, and placing itself onto the side of your cheek.

And with six unreasonably loud knocks, you both quickly seperated, breathing heavily and out of pace.

“Yo, I’m here ta’ fix ya’ sink! Open da’ door!”

You groaned at the unfortunate timing of the plumber. Like of all the times he had to come, it just had to be now. Looking once more at Peter, you questioned whether or not you really needed your sink fixed. However, the pounding against the door had knocked you out of that thought. Groaning once again, you got up to answer the door.

“Finally, what are you people deaf or somethin’, don’t know how to answer a door on time?” He sassed, scoffing as he pushed past you with the tools in his hand. You rolled your eyes at his ‘on time’ statement.

Peter cleared his throat. When you glanced back, he had his phone lifted up. “Aunt May needs me, apparently theres someone who needs to see me.” He said with an apologetic smile. Giving him a small smile you nodded.

Right before he walked out of the door, he stopped in front of you. “To be continued?” He asked.

You smirked. “To be continued.”

#spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman homecoming #avengers #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #avengers endgame #avengers infinity war

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Stay Safe Part Five: Dark Past

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: At last, broskis! We have come to what is arguably my favorite episode thus far. I hope this installment is to your satisfaction. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @literal-fand0m-trash @sinnamon-bunn @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to PTSD, and vividly vague mentions of past trauma. Stay safe!]

"The worst possible thing has finally happened." You announced, thumping your head against the empty shelf. "We're all out of the nutrient paste. Y'know, the good one." You glanced over at the armored man, who was currently sorting through another one of his many crates. "This is the end. I'll have to go back to aurelac mining just to eke out a living." You continued, dramatically slumping to the floor.

You were only half-joking, of course. The variety of food was waning, but at least there was still sustenance to be had. The real issue was credits, or the lack thereof. Nutrient paste wouldn't buy repairs.

"No. No mining. I need all my appendages." The Mandalorian mumbled, his mind clearly elsewhere. He roused himself after a moment, looking over at you. "It's not that bad, we still have some reserves." He said, gesturing vaguely at the small pile of dented cans and faded-looking tubes beside him on the deck. "I'll...I'll get in touch with someone."

"It's too late for us, my metalline companion. You must...take the child…"

"You keep these antics up and I'll sell you to the Hutts." The Mandalorian teased, reaching out to squeeze your chin playfully. "Bet they'd offer me good credits for you, what with your strong back and skills with the younglings." You could hear his smile and your heart tripped a little.

"You would sell me?!" You gasped, pretending to reel with shock. "This betrayal will not stand. Avenge me, child!" You flung a hand out towards the baby, who stared at it for several seconds wide-eyed before proceeding to gnaw gently on your index. "There, you see that? They are swearing a blood oath to free me from your cruelty."

"Uh huh." The Mandalorian didn't sound particularly convinced, his hand still cupping your chin. For whatever reason, you got the impression that he was mulling something over in his mind. Something a little heavier than your lighthearted joking with the child.

"Are you alright?" You asked softly after a minute, putting your hand over his own.

He started at the sound of your voice, jerking his gauntlet away like your touch had burned him. You tried not to let it get to you. It might be that he just didn't like being touched; it was entirely within his right to shy away.

"I'm...yeah." He assured you, grabbing the lip of the crate to haul himself upright with a grunt. "There's just--it's complicated. I've got an idea, I don't know…" he trailed off.

"What's the problem? Talk to me, maybe I can help."

Instead of answering, the man headed up the ladder into the cockpit. You dusted your knees off and hoisted the child, clambering up the ladder one-handed in pursuit of the armored man.

The Mandalorian had apparently begun calculating new coordinates, the sextant whirring to life as he cycled through the charts. "We're going to see an old friend of mine." He announced from his position in the pilot's seat.

"Why do I feel like you don't mean an actual friend?" The armored man yet again didn't deign to answer you immediately and you groaned, setting the child down on the co-pilot seat and stretching your arms out over your head.

"He owes me a favor."

"Mm, what kind?"

"The kind that I can get payment out of." The Mandalorian said curtly.

"You don't seem to be too excited to visit this friend of yours."

"Things have changed since the last time we worked together." His words were quiet, contemplative. "There were...a lot of jobs I did back then that I wouldn't touch now."

It hadn't occurred to you that he had fallen into bounty hunting as a cleaner occupation. What could he have been involved in that made collecting dangerous, often violent criminals for a living seem like the better career path? Maker, you wanted to ask, the curiosity burned at you. But if you had learned anything about the stoic man in the time that you had spent traveling together, it was that he only spoke when he saw fit to.

"I want you and the kid in the bunk for the duration of these negotiations." He muttered after several minutes of silence. "These are rough people and I don't need any distractions."

He didn't mention Calican by name and you were grateful for that much. It stung a little that he still considered you a distraction after that tense standoff. Nuisance. You nodded all the same, focused on the floor plating. "I understand."

You could say that you did, anyway.

Fake it 'til you make it, I guess.

...

You got the feeling that something may have gone a bit funny in the negotiations. The Mandalorian hadn't mentioned anything about having to use his own ship for the job.

You could hear muffled voices on the other side of the bunk's shutter, and you had departed the station ages ago. Where were you headed?

There was a sudden, hollow rattle from the outside. Beskar. He had moved quickly, for whatever reason. It was a strange comfort to know that he wasn't in the cockpit, but here in the hold keeping an eye on the individuals he was working with. Though that begged the question of who might be piloting the craft.

Something large struck the wall beside the shutter with a dull boom, the impact making you jump. What were they doing out there? You moved your eyes from the wall back down to the child, who had just rolled their ball to you yet again.

Another impact, and this time there was a loud beep! That was the lock for the retractor on the bunk hatch, which meant--

The bunk shutter slid up into the ceiling, revealing yourself and the baby sitting on the bed. You paused mid-motion, raising an imperious eyebrow at the motley crew of characters that filled the hold.

An eternal second passed where a bald human man, a Twi'lek woman, a large Devaronian and the Mandalorian just...gawked at you.

"Sweetheart, you didn't tell me we were having guests!" You exclaimed in feigned surprise, doing your best to appear like you weren't scrambling to figure out a solution to this problem. "I would have picked the place up if I had known!"

Fake it 'til you make it, right?

The Mandalorian stayed stock-still as you climbed out of the bunk, the child secure in your arms. "I'm so sorry about the state of the hold, everyone." You apologized profusely with a bow, "it's difficult to keep everything tidy. Little ones, you know how they are!" The hulking Devaronian who was half-in, half-out of the refresher appeared downright flummoxed when you brushed past him to stand by the Mandalorian, while the bald man across the way quickly adopted a calculating look.

"Is this yours, Mando? Did you two make this?" He asked, grinning broadly as he got to his feet. "Look at you! Look at those ears!" He chuckled, moving in to fawn over said ears on the child. "Can I hold him?"

"I'd really rather you-" In a clean jerk of movement, he swept the baby out of your arms. "-Didn't." You finished, less scared and more irritated now. Just who did this guy think he was?!

The Twi'lek woman, who had been silent up until this point, started to giggle quietly to herself. The noise set your teeth on edge, to say nothing of the openly hostile look she was giving the Mandalorian. "I didn't take you for the type, Mando." She crooned, a small knife winding its way back and forth between her deft fingers. "Maybe that code of yours has made you soft." You knew an insult when you heard it, and you wondered what history the Mandalorian might share with her to warrant such a caustic reaction.

You could feel the tension rolling off of the Mandalorian in waves while the bald man toyed with the child. You took in the bracer of pistols he wore and your stomach twisted with nerves. The last thing you needed was more blasters near the child. "Me, I could never really get into the idea of havin' kids. Didn't have the temperament for it." The man remarked, "patience, y'know."

The baby's face scrunched up threateningly, heralding a deafening wail of distress. "Oh, quick, let me see him, he's going to pitch a fit." You said hurriedly.

No sooner had you stepped forward to take the child back (possibly by force) than an unfamiliar mechanical voice announced, "dropping out of hyperspace...now."

You barely managed to snatch the baby away from the bald man before everyone in the hold was thrown off their feet, the whole ship rolling under the strain of the abrupt change in navigation.

"Commencing final approach...now."

You stayed where you landed and clutched the child tight to your chest, ducking your head in case some of the cargo pulled loose. The ship banked hard and your body slid sideways on the floor.

"Cloaking signal...now."

Metal hit the deck on either side of you with a stereo clang!, making the child start to bawl but preventing you from sliding any further. An armored thigh plowed roughly between your legs and your eyes sprang open on reflex, sighing in relief when you were greeted with the familiar sight of the Mandalorian's visor. "Don't move." He muttered as the ship continued to pitch and sway.

You nodded, more than content to stay exactly where you were. His body caged in your own, solidly-armored form providing shelter for both you and the child. "Thank you." You breathed.

He merely shrugged in reply.

"Engaging coupling...now." The voice intoned overhead. The Crest plummeted and the Mandalorian swore under his breath, bracing himself on his forearms as his body was pushed down against your own from the force of the drop. The ship finally came to a stop with a rough shudder that made your teeth rattle in your skull.

"Coupling confirmed. We are down. And relax. Commence extraction now."

The Mandalorian propped himself up with one arm, curling his other protectively around you and the squalling child. "Everyone alright?" He rasped after a few seconds had passed. "Status report."

"That useless droid didn't even give us a proper countdown!" The Twi'lek spat, getting shakily to her feet.

"It's a droid, Xi'an. Y' expect too much. Now, are you two gonna' be able to be friends during this or am I gonna' have to put you in time out?" The bald man inquired, gesturing between the Mandalorian and the Devaronian. "Remember Burg, Mando let us use his ship."

"Al-right Mayfeld." The large man groused, struggling to extract himself from the refresher. "But you had better shut up that baby before I make it into a snack."

Your body tensed at his threat and you heard the Mandalorian chamber a round for his flamethrower, the click deafeningly loud in the relative quiet of the hold.

"Easy, easy. Burg, you gotta' be respectful." The bald man stressed the word, shooting you an apologetic grimace. "Flyin' makes him anxious."

"Making me anxious too." You managed to get out, using the hem of your tunic to mop some of the tears off of the kid's face. They had faded into sniffling and snorting, worn out from the scare and subsequent bumpy ride. You moved to sit up and the Mandalorian shifted back onto his haunches, one hand on your shoulder. You patted his hand and he squeezed gently before he rose to stand once more.

Mayfeld called up the ladder, "Z, are you sure they can't see us?"

"The Razor Crest is scrambling our signature, and I am inside the prison system. It's impressive that this gunship had survived the Empire without being impounded." The automated voice replied from the cockpit.

"Alright we got a job to do. Mando! You're up." The bald man ordered, gesturing at the floor port.

You saw the brief hesitation where the Mandalorian considered not obeying, but then he heaved a sigh and started rummaging around for something in one of the many crates.

"So, he never takes that thing off?" Mayfeld asked curiously as the Mandalorian crouched to work on the hatch encryption.

"Never. And I wouldn't ask him to." You replied firmly, bouncing the still-whimpering child on your hip.

"You don't know his name or what he looks like, and you're bumpin' uglies with him?" Mayfeld's incredulous tone made you wish the ground would swallow you. "That's nuts."

"I know him. That's really what's important in a relationship, isn't it?" You posited cooly, spying the Mandalorian squaring his shoulders underneath his cloak. Whether he did it consciously or not, it was a little humorous to see someone as stoic as he was blatantly preening. "Knowing a person has always been about way more than just knowing their name or what they look like. Knowing a person is…" You paused thoughtfully, keenly aware of the daggers Xi'an was glaring at you. "Well, there's just more to it that a lot of people don't seem to understand."

"Oh you'll fit right in with their merry little band of Creed-followers." The Twi'lek woman murmured, her tone sarcastic as she enquired, "I suppose you'll be getting your helmet fitted shortly?"

"Why do you think I'm doing this job in the first place?" The Mandalorian growled. No one was caught more off-guard than you, and you barely managed to stop yourself from shooting Xi'an a smug smile. "Beskar isn't cheap." He continued, free hand reaching back to wrap carefully around your ankle. "Plus, I'd have to surrender a piece of my beskar to be smelted in with their new helmet's beskar." He tapped his scored breastplate with the crypto device, which carried on beeping. "Need a lot more wear and tear than this before I can justify that level of commitment."

It was a legitimate struggle to keep from laughing out loud at Mayfeld's continued expression of bewilderment. "You Mandalorian guys are even more ridiculous than I thought." He muttered as the crypto pinged.

The hatch slid open with a soft click, and the Mandalorian got back to his feet to coil and stow the cabled device.

After some light bickering amongst the group, Mayfeld graciously agreed to go first. "You better hang onto this one, Mando." He joked, whacking a hand into the armored man's pauldron and then gesturing up and down at you. "Otherwise, I may just steal 'em for myself. If they're crazy enough to get freaky with you, maybe they'll settle for a guy who's a little more...normal." The smile he directed at you didn't reach his eyes, all teeth like a hungry animal.

You chose to heroically ignore his attempt at teasing you or inciting wrath in your 'partner'. "Stay safe, love." You crooned sweetly, deliberately attempting to be as saccharine as possible while you perched up on your tiptoes to touch your forehead to the Mandalorian's helm.

His hand found your own, fingers twining clumsily together. "You too," he hesitated before gruffly mumbling, "love."

Xi'an followed after Mayfeld (making a gagging noise at the Mandalorian as she went), and then Burg dropped like a brick into the ship below. That was the last of his team departed through the hatch and yet he still stood there, just staring down at you.

"Was that too mu-" you began to whisper, only to have him cut you off by shoving you bodily against the wall. You started to stammer out another apology but ended up falling silent when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. One large hand cradled the back of your neck while the other gripped your tunic at the small of your back, and he leaned down to touch his helm to the top of the child's head.

The embrace reeked of a strangely-poignant possessiveness that had your heart aching, causing you to almost mourn the loss of him when his hold loosened. "I'm so damn sorry." He muttered, releasing you fully and turning towards the hatch.

You caught his hand before he could leave. "H-Hey, I meant what I said." You mumbled, half-hoping he didn't hear you. His head jerked to the side to look at you and your confidence waned considerably under his expressionless gaze, making you drop your eyes to the floor. "Y'know, um, stay safe." You chickened out. Really, how could you have thought you would get away with telling him something like that? Seconds before he headed off to do something he had clear reservations about doing?

He was still for several seconds before he shook his head and swung himself down to the ladder. "Stay in the bunk." He instructed, and then he too was gone.

…

Time passed at a slow crawl while you were sequestered in the bunk space. You did your best to keep the child occupied and quiet, astonishing them via a cat's cradle made from your boot laces.

You thanked the stars again and again that the kid hadn't been hurt when the ship landed, your hip still aching from how rough it had been for you. At the same time you staunchly avoided musing on the Mandalorian's body over your own, how quickly he had moved to protect you. It didn't bear thinking about. Just like his embrace before he had left, solid beskar molding to the curves of your body.

Didn't mean anything. He was making certain the child was safe. If you were safe as well, it was strictly by proxy.

You shook your head at your silly thoughts, then stopped abruptly when you heard footsteps above you. You hushed the baby, moving them a little further back in the bunk as those footsteps shifted to impacts on the metal ladder.

Stay in the bunk. The Mandalorian's words echoed in your ears and you swallowed hard. Stay in the bunk, but what if someone comes for me while you're gone? What then?

You heard someone fumbling with the keypad and you held your breath, hoping against hope that whoever was on the other side of the door wouldn't be able to figure out the combination. Please, please, just this once. But despite your fervent prayers, you saw the shutter begin to rise for the second time that day.

It was a compound-eyed droid. The aforementioned Z, if you had to guess. They stood in front of you, head cocked slightly to the side as if to study you. "Curious." They mused flatly. Then, they raised their rifle.

Frantically, you scrambled for a plan. You weren't fast enough to outmaneuver a droid in a shootout. You didn't even have a blaster! Your knife was still strapped to your leg, precious little good it did you there.

Cold reality dawned on you, that this...this could be it. The baby whined warily and you shifted your body, bracing your arm on the wall and doing your best to be a human shield for the child. "It'll be alright, sweetheart." You whispered to them, swallowing your panic to reassure them as best as you could. "I won't let them hurt you."

You heard a whir of servos and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, unable to keep from cringing at the harsh report of the rifle. It sounded even louder in the cramped space. You waited for the pain, even though you had felt no blaster bolt impact. You assumed you were already in shock, ears ringing with the echoes of the gun.

Instead, a leather-gloved hand seized your arm, dragging you and the child out of the bunk space. You covered the baby's head, tucking them into the crook of your arm in an effort to protect them from the next attack. "No!" You cried, trying to struggle out of the person's grip so you could grab your knife. "No! Let me go, or I'll-!"

Metal met your shoulder and you heard a ragged exhale of, "shit." At the familiar sound of that modulated voice, you dared to open your eyes.

The droid was on the floor, a hole blown in its headgear. Most of your field of vision was taken up by a large form clad in beskar, whose forehead was resting on your shoulder.

"Oh." You said softly, concerned when you felt him sag against you. His other forearm hit the wall above your head, taking some of his not-insubstantial weight off of you.

There was a wound between his breastplate and pauldron, still slowly trickling blood onto his flight suit. "I don't have much time." He said hoarsely. "Have to get that Twi' back so I get paid. Qin."

"Tell me what you need from me." Bold offer, when your legs still felt like gelatin. The fingers of your free hand grappled the sleeve of his flight suit, holding it tightly. Maker, you had thought you were dead.

Relief and dread rushed through you in equal parts when he said, "Qin's out cold for the time being. Need you to stay in the bunk until I come get you." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Please."

"When this is all over, I'm not going anywhere near that bunk ever again." You threatened weakly.

"That's fine." He nodded against your shoulder. "Just a little while longer. Qin is getting me triple from Ran."

"We'll see about that." You huffed. He straightened up, then leaned in to press his helmet to your forehead. You closed your eyes, not able to handle being studied at that moment. "I-I thought it was going to kill the-"

"I know." The Mandalorian breathed. "I'm sorry."

"I was so scared." You admitted, your voice cracking. The hold you had on his suit tightened even further. "M' sorry, you're the one who's hurt but I can't seem to get myself together." You shook your head with a sad little laugh, moving to pull away.

The armored man kept you where you were though, his hands framing your shoulders. "I promise. We'll be safe once I deliver that Twi' to Ran, at least for a little while." He drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped the chin of his helm with two fingers. "Promise."

"I'll hold you to it." His helmet hung mere inches from your face, and you stood on your tiptoes to press your forehead to his once more. "Do what you need to do. We'll be here." You promised, mustering up a smile. "Stay safe."

His hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing for a second. "Wait for me. This won't take long."

…

In spite of your trepidation you ended up dozing off with the words to the lullaby on your lips, thoroughly worn out from your trying day. The child was glued to your side, snoring quietly even as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Thinking back, all you could recall was hearing the ramp hiss open, the hollow echo of voices in a large hangar space. After that, just the smooth hum of hyperspace travel.

When the Mandalorian finally came to retrieve you, even the unflappably stoic bounty hunter seemed like he had gone through the wringer. His steps were unsure, and he clung to a cargo net despite the level deck. "Need your help." He said thickly once you had swung your legs out of the bunk space.

Instantly awake at those words, you left the child to nap peacefully and followed the armored man back up the ladder to the cockpit. There, he all but fell into the pilot seat.

"Something's wrong." He muttered. "It's just a cut, but something…" He trailed off, shaking himself after a moment. "Can't focus."

"What do you need me to do?" You asked.

"Hands aren't steady. Need...need to get the beskar off. Peel the suit. Fix the damage." He sounded breathless, like he was rushing to force the words out.

"You have to walk me through this, okay? I won't touch anywhere you don't want me to touch, but I need your help."

"Just-" He cut himself off with a low groan. "Gods, my head. That rancor-sized bastard broke every knob in that stupid control room off with my helmet."

"Hey." You murmured, placing a careful hand on top of his own. "Stay with me."

"Right. Important." His helmet rolled back for a moment. "Dammit, come on." He snapped in frustration, shaking his head. Fumbling fingers unlatched his beskar breastplate, the metal clicking softly as he pulled it from its gription mount.

Next came the mount straps for his pauldrons, and here was where he really needed some help. The latches were worn to a smooth bronze patina, sliding out from beneath his shaky hands again and again. You carefully placed your fingers around his own, guiding him through undoing the simple fasteners before you tugged his pauldrons free. The harness slowly flopped forward, then landed on the floor with a muffled clunk.

He exhaled hard and started dragging at the upper zippers of his flight suit, quickly getting them caught for his trouble. "Sweetheart, hang on." The endearment slipped out automatically, your mind already focused on this next insurmountable task. "Let me do this for you, okay?"

He lolled his head against his shoulder silently, dropping his hands to rest on his thighs. You stepped closer in between his legs and then slowly worked free the jam he had created for himself.

One of the Mandalorian's hands suddenly flew up, grabbing your sleeve. "Didn't kill anyone." He slurred, almost panicky. "I swear. It was all droids, and the one guy...Xi'an killed him, not me, I t-tried to talk him down, and Xi'an..."

"I believe you." You assured him, gently patting his hand. "It's over now, okay?"

"Xi'an killed him, I just…" He trailed off, his head falling forward to rest on his chest. He might have been watching you fight with the zipper. "Told Mayfeld to ask about Alzoc Three, that bitch." He muttered, "like it was a joke. Like it was a joke. Alzoc Three was a nightmare, Ran almost died, I couldn't get the klesir...the smell…" He actually retched, "Burning, and I did what I had to but…they all had so many eyes, and it was so dark--"

"Whoa, hey. What are you even talking about?" You interrupted him, more than a little concerned. It wasn't like him to rattle off on such a wild tangent, frantic.

"Mines, we were sent into the mines blind. They didn't tell us about the T-Talz." He rambled on like you hadn't said anything, gesturing with one hand. "Dark. Cold. Talz, enslaved, mining...their whole lives, dying in those pits and it reeked like hatred."

Your hands went still on his zipper when his voice cracked. He sounded seconds from weeping, his next words punching indelicate through the modulator.

"Imps shove the young ones into the pits. Say their fur will cushion the fall. I landed in a pile of bodies." He breathed. "So many little ones. Tiny, tiny...tiny bodies, and the klesir, the death-rot, I-I--"

You abandoned the fight with his zipper to shift forward, mindful of his wound as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His helmet dug into your collarbone and you laid your cheek on top of it, feeling his shoulders tremble slightly. "You're not there anymore." You whispered, cradling the back of his helmet like you did for the child's head.

"It's s-so dark…" He mumbled brokenly into your tunic. "Came at me with a rock crusher and I couldn't--I couldn't...oh gods..."

"Shh, sweetheart." You shifted your hand lower, resting your fingers tentatively against the exposed skin on the back of his neck. He felt fever-hot, the area clammy and damp with sweat. "It's alright now. You're here with me. Breathe, okay? Just keep your face there and focus on breathing. We'll get through this together."

"Did that bitch poison me?" The Mandalorian half-sobbed, grasping desperately at your arms. "I can't keep my eyes open. Can't...can't keep them open...g-gods, it's so dark…"

"Love, look at me." You coaxed him, holding the sides of his helmet steady. "You're on your ship. The child is safe. You're safe."

"Are you sure?" He asked, the uncertainty in his voice breaking your heart.

Fake it 'til you make it.

"I promise."

"The kid-"

"They're asleep in the bunk right now. Do you want me to get them?"

"No, no." He waved the suggestion off, nearly hitting you with the haphazard motion. "S'okay. I believe you." His hands dropped to rest on your tunic over your hips, fingers clenching tight in the fabric as if he was trying to ground himself with your presence.

With a little creative positioning and more than a few swears, you managed to get the flight suit peeled down to his elbows without dislodging his helmet. The liner shirt you resorted to shoving up until it was out of the way, finally getting a good look at the damage.

He was littered in bruises. The angry contusion from that sniper bolt had mercifully faded, but in its place bloomed a veritable forest of new, smaller marks. Rounding out all these fresh acquisitions was the stab wound. It wasn't particularly large, though it sank deep into the tissue that connected his shoulder to his chest. If it didn't heal properly, it might impede his movement.

A strange, bluish residue darkened the dried blood at the edges of the wound. Your eyes narrowed. "Do you have an anti-tox kit? There's some crud here I don't like the look of."

"Blue?" When you nodded he reached for his belt, finally tugging free a small vial from a side loop. "Bathe area with half." He instructed, his breathing ragged again. The minute effort had clearly worn him out, which was incredibly worrisome.

You nodded, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. "I need you to lie down, okay? Otherwise this will just run off."

The bleary Mandalorian gamely left the chair and dropped onto the floor, his normally-smooth motions reduced to something resembling clumsy puppeteering. You rummaged through the rear compartments for one of your clean rags and a bacta patch. This was no simple mark from a gaudy belt buckle, after all.

"I can't b-believe she poisoned me." He remarked faintly, sounding indignant. "What the hell did I ever do t' her?"

"Maybe you were just too devastatingly handsome. She couldn't take it when you left." You suggested dryly, carefully tipping half of the vial's neon purple contents onto the open wound.

The Mandalorian hissed out a pained laugh, his whole body tensing briefly before relaxing again. "Shit, that mus' be it." He slurred. "Crazy Twi' was always stabbin' me. Wanted t' get m...me outta' th' beskar." He brushed his knuckles against your cheek. "Not like you. Y' always tellin' me t...to...to stay safe. Like you'd be sad 'f I got hurt."

You longed for a beskar steel helmet at that moment, mentally cursing your cheeks for flushing as hot as they did. This wasn't the time! He was still soaked with sweat, his shoulder jumping erratically under your touch. It was difficult not to notice the way his chest was heaving, the rise and fall of battered olive skin almost hypnotic. This was only the second time you had seen him in such a state of undress and, despite how terrible the current situation was, you still treasured this display of the trust that he placed in you. Just to ask for your help in general-! "Of course I'd be sad." You said quietly, trying to focus on smoothing the patch over the edges of the wound.

His thumb traced your jawline. "Really?" He asked, sounding somewhere between incredulous and seconds from passing out. "S'nice. You're nice. Nice t' look at, too. Mesh'la. Xi'an was jealous." He mumbled. You could hear his smile; he was gloating, the smug bastard. Leave it to a man who had been poisoned to gloat about an old flame being petty! "Jeal-o-us…" He tapped your nose, and then his hand flopped to the floor.

You had to sit back on your haunches, exhaling hard once you heard his breathing even out. This day was just getting stranger and stranger! Nice to look at, he had said. Xi'an was jealous. Maker, were you still blushing?!

You shook your head, for once not bothering to fight back your fond smile. "She sure was, wasn't she." You whispered sadly, daring to caress the side of his helmet.

You didn't want to leave him alone while he 'sweat out' the poison in case something went wrong, so you chose to curl up in the secondary co-pilot chair and keep him under observation. After several minutes, a hand fumbled up to grab your own. "H-ey." He breathed. "St…Stay here. Don' leave, okay?"

"I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere." You assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

"Can you...sing me th...that song. The one--the one...th' one the kid likes?" He turned his head slowly to look up at you, the side of his helm hitting the floor with a solid thud. "Keeps the dark...keeps th' dark outta' my helmet."

"Yeah, absolutely. Whatever you need." He squeezed your hand, which you assumed was his way of saying thank you. You then slid off of the seat and back onto the floor, carefully lifting his head so you could lay it in your lap.

He groaned at the motion and you apologized softly, stroking your fingers down the front of his helm like you did for the kid. You got a quiet sigh out of that. His hand shifted over to pet your thigh, and you felt his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

"Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you…" you sang, deliberately keeping your volume as low as you could manage.

The Mandalorian hummed along with the tune off-key and the sound made your fond smile return, despite your best efforts.

"But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me…"

…

You were uncertain of when you had fallen asleep, only knowing that your own dreams were far from restful. Fraught with images of dark pits and frenzied clawing through the void, the muted horror of an undefinable stench clinging to your body as you searched for him...

"My f-f-friend, if you are receiving this..."

The staticky voice startled you from your nightmares and you gazed blearily up at the Mandalorian's back. Somehow you had ended up back in the co-pilot chair. When…?

He appeared to be listening to a message, his form hunched over slightly so you couldn't see the individual's holo on the control panel. "...means you are alive. You may be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even."

Your brow furrowed as the Mandalorian scoffed, shaking his head.

"...lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown."

Ex-Imperial? You were wide awake now. You tucked your legs beneath the blanket covering you, huddling yourself up tight before you realized that it was actually his cape. He must have draped it over you after he woke up from his post-poison fainting spell.

The message rattled on, "They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy but we cannot get close enough to take him out."

"Osi'kyr." The Mandalorian hissed through his teeth, scooping his gription harness up off the floor and settling it back on his shoulders. "Of course not, of course." The grit in his words was unfamiliar, violent. You remembered what he had said about not touching certain jobs anymore; frantic, guilty rambling about Alzoc Three, dark pits. What else had he done before bounty hunting?

"If you would consider one last commission, I would very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize." His shoulders snapped tight. "So here is my proposition: return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members for protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want."

The Mandalorian was shaking his head again, knuckles rhythmically striking the edge of the control panel. He was angry. His presence seemed to fill the cockpit, robbing the space of everything except the silent fury he radiated. Like when he had been staring down Calican, the mudhorn about to charge.

"If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild. For a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile." Weirdly, the Mandalorian went dead still at that. The wording obviously had some kind of heavy impact on him. "I await your arrival with optimism."

"I'll bet you fucking do, you-" The Mandalorian seethed, reaching for his breastplate and then pausing when he saw you were awake. He continued the motion after a moment, clearing his throat. "We're headed back to Sorgan." He enunciated calmly, affixing the plate to his harness.

"Why?" You inquired, a little wary. Gone was the slur in his voice, the clumsy movements he had displayed only a few hours back. Also gone was his rage. He was somehow even more closed off than before, his body language bordering on unreadable.

"I'm going to need backup."

Part Six

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #eventual romance #slow burn #God I'm bad at this #i apologize #with that said #please enjoy!

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nolanhollogay · 4 years

Text

you’ve unlocked nate’s tragic backstory congrats!! @juliesdahlias @richitozier @witchofinterest

cw: talk of sex in the beginning (nothing explicit and nothing happens but u know i dont want anyone to be uncomfy), talk of and descriptions of child abuse, blood and stabbing

"No," Dick grumbled, glaring down at him. He was sitting on Nate's thighs, his legs tucked underneath himself as he frowned in playful displeasure.

Nate whined. "Why not?" he asked, walking his fingers up the inseam of Dick's jeans. His nails were painted a pretty purple color at Rachel's request and they looked exceptionally lovely against the dark blue denim.

Dick grabbed his hand to stop it's wandering. His palm was warm around Nate’s cold fingers. "It's 3pm."

"Time isn't real. It's a man made construct," Nate countered, tangling their fingers together. He didn't even really care all that much about having sex anymore, he just liked to argue.

"That doesn't mean we don't have to follow it," Dick said, rolling his eyes.

"So what? We can only have sex after 8pm? We're not straight people, Richard."

Dick laughed, face lighting up in surprise and Nate's heart sang.

"No, we’re not, but like, calm down. Wait a bit. You're like a rabbit," he said, kissing Nate's forehead. Nate smiled and pulled him into a kiss with a hand on the back of his neck.

"I have a pair of bunny ears, if you're into the kind of thing," he joked against his mouth, just to hear him laugh again.

Dick tried to keep the kiss calm and sweet but Nate didn't really have the patience for that. He slid his tongue between Dick's teeth, pulling him closer by his hair. Dick, for all of his protesting before, didn't seem too upset about it.

Nate had just gotten Dick's shirt off, throwing it to the floor, when his bedroom door opened.

He let out a loud annoyed groan at being interrupted. He couldn't handle any more robbers or people who wanted to beat him up. He really needed to invest in a better lock

He looked over Dick's shoulder and groaned again when he saw his father standing there. He was wearing a god awful trench-coat that was the color of olives and an unimpressed look. He looked older then when Nate had seen him last, around ten months ago over a Skype call. His hair was more gray than black and there were more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

What was he even doing here?

Nate pushed Dick out of his lap causing him to grunt in surprise. "Hi Dad," he said, forcing a smile. It probably looked as fake as it felt.

"I guess I know why you weren't answering my text messages," Nate's father said with a hint of a smile. Dick went pink in the face and grabbed his shirt from the ground, pulling it back on.

Nate shrugged. He'd been ignoring his father's texts for months for a variety of reasons. He'd seen the texts about him visiting that morning but assumed it meant some time in the near future, not that day.

Nate's father cleared his throat, looking between him and Dick with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Nate made a noise of annoyance in the back of his throat. He didn't want to introduce them. He wanted them to stay so far away from each other that they didn't know the other existed.

"Dick, this is my father. Dad, this is my boyfriend, Dick," he said, gesturing between them with his hand.

Dick smiled, charming but nervous and Nate’s heart turned into liquid despite his growing anger.

"Uh, nice to meet you sir," he said, reaching out to shake his hand. Nate's dad took it, looking less than enthusiastic. When they dropped hands, he looked Dick up and down, taking in his muscle and his messed up hair.

"I don't like him," he said in Mandarin, sending Nate a disapproving look.

Nate rolled his eyes. "I didn't think you would," he replied in English, just to piss him off.

"You could have at least told me you were seeing someone, Minjun," he said, once again in Mandarin.

Nate let out a humorless laugh. There was something dark and sad crawling inside his chest. He felt twitchy and ready to snap, like a caged animal. "Yeah, but then you would have gotten mad at me," he all but growled.

"Why would I be mad at you for dating someone?" his father asked, looking genuinely puzzled. Nate watched the realization hit him and he was given a look so pitying that it made rage dance under his skin. He wanted to bite someone.

"Minjun, I'm not your mother. I'm not going to hurt you or be mad at you for every little thing. You're an adult who's free to make his own decisions," he said. Then he quickly added, "Within reason." Nate scoffed. Of course he decided to switch back to English to say that.

Nate rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Dick sent him a confused looked, mouth twisted down in a frown.

"Is there anything you needed?" Nate asked, trying not to curl his fists at his sides. Or did he just come over to ruin Nate's day and unearth his trauma for no reason?

His dad shook his head. "No, not right now. But we'll make dinner together tomorrow and talk. I'll call you."

"Okay," Nate replied briskly.

Nate watched him go, seething silently. Dick watched him, eyes locked on the clench of his jaw.

"What just happened?" he asked, voice flooded with concern.

Nate didn’t want to talk about it. "That was my dad," he said vaguely.

Dick rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. "I gathered that, yeah. What was he saying? That stuff about your mom.. And what was he calling you?"

"Minjun. It's my name. My other name. And I don't want to talk about it. Not right now," Nate explained. He still felt caged. He was hit with the urge to break something, like the lamp on his desk.

"Okay. Fine with me," Dick said with a nod and a small smile. Then he asked, "Can I give you a hug?"

Nate laughed despite his rage. "Why are you asking? Freak."

Dick made an annoyed noise. "Because you're all tense. I don't want to touch you if it don't want to be touched."

"You're so soft. It's disgusting,” Nate said, sending him a smile. “Give me a stupid hug."

Dick wrapped his arms around his Nate’s waist, pulling him close. Nate buried his face in his neck, sighing. This was the one place he felt truly comfortable, wrapped in Dick’s strong arms.

It wasn’t until much later that Nate brought up his family again. They were lying in his bed, with Nate turned away from Dick, looking out of his window. The moon was full and bright, and he locked his stare onto it to give himself something to focus on as he told Dick his story.

"My mom is shitty,” Nate explained, unprompted. He knew Dick wouldn’t have brought it up again because he said he didn’t want to talk about it, but he needed to get it off his chest. it had been eating at him all day, like a parasite in his stomach. “She used to hit me and burn me with her cigarettes and she hated me. She's the reason I have the scar on my back."

Dick ran his fingers over it, the raised pink skin that interrupted the smooth expanse of his back. It was a line that was just off center and it would have been perfectly straight if not for the jagged curve at the end.

"What happened?" Dick asked, voice soft. Something cracked in Nate’s chest, but he ignored it.

Nate cleared his throat as the vivid memories hit him. He just had to focus on the moon and ignore the phantom pains. Ignore the feeling of blood trickling down his back and the blade under his skin.

"She, uh, got mad at me for something. I don't remember what, but she pinned me to the kitchen floor and tried to kill me. Said she was gonna rip my heart out from the back so I didn't have to see it,” he said. He remembered the sweetness in her voice as she said. He’d never heard it before that moment and he didn’t like it all. ”She would've gotten farther than she did if my dad hadn't come home from work early. That's why it's crooked at the bottom. Because he yanked her away from me from the side."

Dick mumbled, "Jesus Christ," which made him laugh.

"After that he shipped me out here to the States to live with my uncle when I was like sixteen. To get me away from her and so he didn't have to deal with all my bullshit and trauma. It's why he was trying to be nice earlier. He feels guilty."

Dick kissed his shoulder, wrapping his arm around his waist. "That's so terrible. I'm sorry you had to live through that."

Nate shrugged. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. It doesn't really matter."

"Of course it matters," Dick argued. "That's something that you have to carry with you every day."

Nate turned around to face him and Dick saw something on his face that made him kiss him, gentle and slow.

“Don’t get all soft on me,” Nate grumbled. “I’m not broken or something. I’m just traumatized and that’s my burden to live with.”

Dick’s eyebrows wrinkled as he thought of how to reply. Nate smoothed the lines out with his pointer finger.

“I love you,” he settled on. “I know we’re both weird about saying it cause we’re our own kinds of emotionally fucked up, but I do. Not just cause you told me about your family or cause you’re a good kisser. And I want you to know that someone loves you unconditionally.”

Nate’s face twisted as his eyes filled with tears. He huffed in anger and embarrassment at his body’s reaction. He wasn’t going to cry over this.

He buried his face in Dick’s chest as he tried to collect himself. “I hate you. You gross me out,” he croaked out.

Dick laughed, Nate feeling it from where his face was pressed against his bare skin. Dick ran his fingers through his hair making him sigh.

“Love you too,” he finally replied as he felt himself starting to drift into sleep.

There was a smile in Dick’s voice as he responded, “I know you do.”

#liuson #nathaniel liu #my writing #this was supposed to be longer but i have homework >:(#maybe there will be a part 2

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

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Could u please consider a yandere wenseulrene story where Irene and Seulgi are aggressive/obsessive and tries to play nice but eventually just pins Wendy and takes it from her whether she like it or not ? Thank u so much !

oof yes i can try. seulgi’s a new one for me haha. it’s been a little while since i wrote yandere. (i don’t condone this irl! just fiction).

[yandere!seulrene x officegirl!wendy]

tw : noncon, harassment.

...

For the most part, Seungwan could ignore it. The passing compliments, little winks here and there, the ‘accidentally’ brushing themselves up against her when they were waiting for the lift. If it were anyone else, these not so subtle hint drops and attempts at flirting wouldn’t have stood. But Son Seungwan was the kindest girl at work, shy and non-confrontational, making herself the perfect target, heaven-sent, for the disturbing infatuation of her two creepy, obsessive managers.

Bae Joohyun and Kang Seulgi; for two women who worked hand in hand to run a nation-wide corporation, you’d expect them to know how to share by now.

Of course, it was all happiness and sunshine when they had Seungwan alone in their office to discuss the monthly revenue or any potential liabilities; the women were content to share amongst themselves. But it came to a point where any interaction between Seungwan and anyone who wasn’t either Joohyun or Seulgi was downright unacceptable. Stealthy pupils would follow her every movement every day, stalking from the shadows, the sound of someone else making Seungwan giggle or sigh igniting a raging jealousy deep within. Call it frightening naivety, but Seungwan didn’t really pick up on any of it. Not initially, anyway. But very slowly, she began to pay closer attention to what lay behind those eyes, the hidden suggestiveness when they had her in their office for something as simple as a cup of water, the creepiness behind those ‘you look really cute today, Ms. Son’s’ and ‘you should wear that more often’s’ that should’ve been blaring red alarms in her face a long time ago.

However, not having been the subject of an obsession this strong before, Seungwan was at a loss when it came to how she’d handle it. Could she just tell them to bugger off and leave her alone? Of course not! There was no way on earth she was going to be rude to her superiors; plus, personal inclination aside, she really wasn’t planning on getting fired anytime soon.

It was all part and parcel of being an adult in the workplace, wasn’t it?

… …

It was late, and Joohyun had the younger woman wrapped in her arms as they sat on the sofa, just talking, like they did almost every night. After a while, Seulgi shifted to face Joohyun, who hummed questioningly.

“Unnie… Seungwan seems pretty blur. Have we not done enough? Is she purposely ignoring us, do you think? I’m getting tired.”

Seulgi watched as a familiar darkness flickered in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“Quite probably, yes,” she replied, pushing herself up and away so she had space to think. Furrowed brows, chin in palm and a fixed gaze meant that Joohyun was in action-plan mode, and the other girl couldn’t stop her growing smile as she waited for a taste of her girlfriend’s brilliant mind.

Seulgi waited till Joohyun had finished before chipping in, “Oh my… you don’t think that’ll scare her too much? She seems so fragile.”

“She just needs a little push,” the latter insisted, already devising another potential plan, “sweet girl like her? Probably hasn’t even had her first kiss yet. We’ll show her how it’s done.”

“Hm, okay yeah. Little push,” Seulgi parroted, slowly nodding.

How ‘little’ that push would be, however, was entirely dependent on how easy their victim made it for herself. They were quickly losing their patience, despite having done everything right. They’d been nothing but nice thus far, so if Seungwan still wasn’t chomping down on the bit, they’d just have to yank harder on the reigns.

Enough playing nice.

… …

It was past 5pm, and everyone had left.

Except for Seungwan, naturally. Joohyun had given her work to keep her back late after everyone had checked out.

“Such a good girl,” Seulgi whispered, both of them watching the back of their hardest worker through a creek in the door, “no complaints?”

Joohyun shook her head. “Not one.”

The task she’d been presented with wasn’t difficult. It was just filing. Something they both knew Seungwan was miles too overqualified to do but was simple and time consuming enough that she’d be the last one in the building. If the girl was upset or offended in any way, she certainly did a good job at hiding it, because she’d just accepted the work with a graceful ‘of course, miss’.

Joohyun secretly smiled. Sweet girl really did take whatever came at her.

… …

“All done, miss.”

The bright voice had both women snapping their attention to their pretty little employee, who was stood in the doorway, neat pile of folders balanced in one arm.

“Ah, very good,” Seulgi said, swiftly transferring the folders over to the desk as the other woman rounded it, leaning against its surface, long, lean legs crossed over one another and an imperceptible look on her face. It was an extremely attractive look, no lies, but Seungwan felt a quirk of unease at the way her manager’s eyes were studying her so… thoroughly.

The girl did her best not to let her eyes linger anywhere inappropriate for too long.

“Uh…” she paused to clear the thickness in the throat, anxiously twiddling the sleeves of her cardigan behind her back, “i-if that’s all, may I be excused?”

“Not quite, Ms. Son,” Joohyun said, arms crossed out in front of her, creasing her suit jacket ever so slightly, “please shut the door.”

Confused but complicit, Seungwan did as she was told.

“Lock it.”

“Oh s-sorry, wh-what?”

It only took about two seconds of silence before she ended up clicking the lock into place, the nervous pang in her stomach, wrenching.

Both women approached her in an instant, crowding her, more and more until she found herself backed up against the wall, a hollow thud sounding from where she’d hit her head on the faux wood. Seulgi spoke first.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

The girl in question flinched when Joohyun closed the remaining distance between them, reaching a hand up to stroke her hair, lightly, as if she weren’t touching her at all.

Seungwan bit the inside of her cheek, unsure, “I-I’m not sure I understand, miss.”

She suddenly gasped when fingers dug into her jaw, deeply gripping, hard enough to bruise the soft skin. She met Joohyun’s leering gaze with frightened eyes, unable to speak from how strongly the woman was clamping down.

“Hope you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart. Because we’re done playing.”

She never got to ask what that meant. As soon as she opened her mouth, Joohyun’s lips were on hers. Seungwan’s eyes shot wide open and she immediately renewed her efforts at shoving her away, but the older woman couldn’t be budged, not letting up for a second as she stole the air from the girl’s lungs. She didn’t stop until Seungwan was a dishevelled, flushed mess, the arm across her chest, the wall and the thigh wedged between her legs the only things keeping her upright.

The poor thing was just so overwhelmed; every which way she turned was just more unwanted attention from the two people she wanted to get away from.

They didn’t even grant her the opportunity to catch her breath after Joohyun detached herself from her lips. Seungwan panted, trying to pull away, but that only resulted in a firm grip turning her head to the side. It was Seulgi’s turn. The rising panic caused the smaller girl to instinctively struggle but Joohyun’s free hand had already found her wrists, pinning them painfully into the girl against the wall. The older woman sneered at the sight of Seungwan being ravished like this, the power she had over her, keeping her defenceless, absolutely helpless as Seulgi selfishly took what she wanted.

Just for fun, Joohyun promptly gave her thigh a firm thrust, loving the way it elicited a surprised mewl from her, Seulgi eagerly swallowing every sound she made.

This wasn’t a kiss. She’d been violated. Kisses didn’t leave you feeling the way Seungwan felt; frozen with fear.

Just as she was trying to block it out, a hand fell to her hip, flush against the wood she was pressed into. She couldn’t see whose it was, but did it really matter at this point? Cold fingers slipped past the waistband of her skirt, bunching her panties in a fist and giving it a harsh upward tug. Seungwan jerked at the tightness. Then hands, too many to count, roamed all over her body. The touching, the groping; they were all jagged around the edges, punishing and greedy.

Seulgi grabbed a handful of blonde, roughly yanking sideways, exposing the column of her neck. She moved her attention to the girl’s throat as Joohyun kept up her assault, latching on to suck hard, violent marks into pale flesh, ignoring Seungwan pitifully begging her not to. The spots of indigo would be too fresh, too tender to even touch, let alone hide from her co-workers. But perhaps that was the point.

It didn’t progress any further, though. Clearly this was just the beginning. Seungwan was in for a lot more down the line. This was a sneak peak, as you’d have it.

Joohyun and Seulgi stepped back, composed for the most part, admiring their mess of a victim; tangled hair, lipstick smears, uncontrollable trembling. It was a wonderful thing to behold. Poor Seungwan was incapable of supporting her own weight. Her legs, tired and shocked, gave out, and her backside hit the floor. She gave a weak grunt, shakily glancing up at the lascivious women who had given her a gracious little teaser of what else they had in store.

Suddenly, she felt small and scared and confused and so, so helpless.

#red velvet #red velvet scenarios #ask #red velvet yandere #yandere imagines #wenseulrene #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

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