#half cause prime opportunity to laugh at him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

landothemuppet · 3 years

Text

dancing with a spider (t.h) smut

Word count: 5.2k pairing: actor!tom holland x dwts dancer!reader warning(s) : smut (+18), swearing, female masturbation, mutual(ish) masturbation, mutual consented sex N/A: wow, okay! First; I’m so proud of this concept. I've never seen it on other tumblrs, but that doesn't mean I claim to be the only one to have had this idea.This is my first smut. Be indulgent. I hope you like this as much as my previous work. I remind you that English is not my native language. You can also find a small bonus : dancing with a spider (smau) Don't forget to comment, reblog, interact with us, it's important for the authors. Love you so much ! xx taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp @hogwartsmarvelmommy (’cause i know you were so excited to read it!) - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

It was your fourth season and you had the opportunity to share the floor with always the most extraordinary partners. You even kept in touch with them after the show. But when the production and the casting team told you that your next dance partner was going to be Tom Holland, you couldn't believe it. On the first day of rehearsals you posted a photo of an empty dance studio with a not-so-enigmatic caption. Your notifications exploded and you could only smile at the animation under your post. The first day Tom arrived super smiling, motivated and you were like a pile of springs at the idea of sharing the stage with him. The meeting was so warm, tom was a nice man, it's was so easy to talk with him.

"Hello, there!"

"Hello you! I'm Y / N, i'll be your dance partner for the next weeks"

"I was hoping I was with you! You set fire to last season"

"And I hope to bring it back fire with you, Spiderman! Let's take the trophy home"

You both laughed before clapping your hands and prompting him to start that first repetition. He was very studious ... for the first hour and a half before he started making you laugh every time you missed a move. You smiled to yourself every time Tom swore gruff words. You were pretty sure the production should beep lots of swear words coming out of its mouth. He was as much a perfectionist as you were, and even though Tom was a spontaneous boy, you still gave your best. The trust and the chemistry between the two of you almost immediately set in.

Your first dance was a Charleston, the production even specifically asked you that the first song you dance to be the Spiderman theme. It was super cliché but it set the scene for your partner. Especially since Tom's press tour was about to start soon after the show ended. The Charleston was a dynamic dance with a lot of kick and bounce but you knew Tom had enough energy. You also had an advantage that he did a lot of his stunts and because you expected to add some of his gymnastic tricks into the choreography, in addition to the lifts you had set up initially. You first taught him the basics of Charleston but your vocabulary quickly turned into onomatopoeia, which made your partner laugh a lot.

“okay… here we go..and pam pum, pam pam pum, again pam pum, swing, pam pum, pam pum, pam pam pum. Tom, focus!.”

“I’m sorry darling, I don’t speak your “pam pum” language.” he laughed at you.

“You Div! Come on, Tom! It has to be perfect. I want a 10 on the first prime and I know we can make it.”

During the performance, Tom was gorgeous! The judges stood up when he did his backflip on the judges' desk. You both were dynamic; you were on fire. His kick steps were perfect, your tandems in perfect synchronization. The energy in his feet was there, not too strong not to look like a jive, the complicity, the facial expressions. Everything ... Everything was perfect for you so much so that on the first "10”. Tom and you jumped for joy and clung like a koala to him as he spun you around. The juries have never stopped complimenting you and you were so proud of Tom for the work he had provided.

The audience loved you right away and the support you were getting with their participation in Dancing with the Stars was incredible. It always energized you. On your second week, you danced a waltz on Tiny Dancer by Elton John. During the judges' comments, Tom gave you a kiss on the temple, a mark of affection that did not go unnoticed by his fans. A few of them, thousands out of a few million after all, represented you as a lovely couple even though you were just friends and dance partners. But it was the risk of dancing with such a popular actor: being associated with him as a potential romantic relationship. Did you and Tom really bother you? No. To tell the truth, you played it a lot and liked to laugh about it, especially when reading the comments under your performances or your posts. You were even quite active on social networks.

When Tom couldn't rehearse indoors, you would sometimes follow him wherever you could. So you rehearsed everywhere: on film sets, in the rehearsal room, at his place. You were snuggled up on the couch in Tom's trailer while he was filming. You waited for him to come back for a break so you can practice a bit between takes. There were still a few reshoots to do on the last Spider-Man before its release. you were browsing old videos of your performances to give you ideas to add to your new choreography. You were not yet satisfied with the one you had built earlier this week..The door swung open to find Tom, staring at his phone as you jumped out of the couch.

“Hey love, did you see this?”

“Jesus, Tom, you scared me! No, what should I have seen?” you asked, unaware about he’s talking about.

“Look at my Instagram”

A few days ago you and Tom stopped by his parents' house to recharge your batteries. It was his grandfather's birthday and you were amazed to see him so close to his family. It was so important to him and you appreciate it. His brother Harry then took a snapshot of you two and Tom posted it on his Instagram to thank his fans for their support. You met his almost full family - apparently one of his brothers was in Scotland and couldn't get back in time. His mother was the most caring you have ever met; she was so sweet to you that your heart instantly melted. You were greeted as if you were part of the family and that had moved you.

You pulled out your phone to look at the comment section under his post and you did indeed notice how the topic turned to your alleged relationship.

"Oh my god, your parents liked your post ... that means you're going to marry me" you joked.

"Are you kidding? Don't you know you're already pregnant?"

"How did you know? I wanted to tell you during the next prime" you outbid

You and Tom laughed at your antics, he sat at the end of the sofa, putting his feet on your thighs. After a few seconds of silence, Tom smiles tenderly at you, looking at you with soft eyes.

“But it's true. They liked you. I mean, my parents like you.”

“Thank you. I love them too. Your mom is so adorable, protective yet adorable.”

“She would like to work with you on a photoshoot. She told me your face was so soft she wanted to capture this.”

“Is that a way of telling me I'm pretty, Thomas?”

If you only knew. But in truth, he thought you were beautiful. He had been following the shows since your first appearance. He already had a whole mental picture of you and what you seemed to be in life ... and participating in that season, he had learned that everything he had imagined was a far cry from who you were. You were much better: much more beautiful in person, naturally, much funnier, much more energetic, much softer. And you smelled good ... even when you had been sweating for two hours from dancing with him.

“you’re always pretty, y/n”

Your cheeks warmed up; you felt the blood rush all over your face. Your eyes rested on his ankles, which themselves rested on your legs. You bit your lip, touched by the compliment. Tom moved from the couch to get closer to you. He reached for your chin, but before he could touch you, the door opened on Harry who told him he had to go back and turn because there had been a problem with the lighting. That day, you felt your heart race but you never spoke of this moment which could seem quite innocent and harmless.

The rehearsals are linked and your complicity visibly grew as it was obvious that your friendship was drawing towards romance. But you were both far too oblivious to realize it. But it was in moments of laughter and sharing that you came to doubt the nature of your relationship. And the more the weeks went by, the more you really enjoyed Tom's company.

"Stick your side of your pelvis against my butt."

"what ... what?"

"Stick. The side Of. Your. Pelvis. Against. My. butt, Tom." you repeated laughing.

You were amused by the brunette's dismay; his cheeks were flushed and his stutter was adorable. Although he could be cheeky, like on your instagram post, simple little things like this unsettled him. You've pushed your butt out to the side of his pelvis, not quite in the center of his crotch. You needed him to understand the need for that closeness along with establishing some distance. You needed him to understand the movement. So, you stuck to him, your right hand on Tom's lower back while your left-hand pressed Tom's against your lower stomach to maintain the position. He yelped slightly in surprise and you laughed again.

"There. I need you to be close to me to do the shadow reverse rolls"

“O-Okay.”

You started your hip and knee movement against him explaining how to follow. Step by step, you introduced the move but you could see that Tom was insecure. You perceive it over and over again. But you couldn't deny it, the tension between you two was palpable and that's what kept you from that figure. You had to admit that you had always found Tom very handsome, he had always sent you a positive image of him. By getting to know him through this adventure, you really appreciated the man. Sometimes - after two or three glasses of red wine at the end of the evening, alone in your apartment - to imagine his chocolate eyes sweeping your body, to feel his hands on your skin, exploring more than the touch of a simple choreography. There were too many things left unsaid. Too many repressed feelings. But you didn't say anything about it. On the contrary, you have taken the budding feelings for your dance partner even further. It was unprofessional. That week you really worked hard. But something was wrong.

The samba was not in itself a disaster but it was not your best performance. In truth, it's even the first time you were actually in danger on the show. Behind the scenes, you tried to calm Tom who was freaking down. You used his own advice against him: turn your nerves into excitement.

“Tom, it’s going to be okay. We can do this. I’m proud of you. We can do this okay?” you tried to comfort him.

“I’m so sorry I failed our dance.”

“You haven’t. It’s okay. Tom, I’m so proud. I’m so proud to have you. I’m so proud to have met you. You’re incredible, okay? You’re the best partner I ever had…I’m so proud of you.”

Your hands caressed his temples, at the base of his hair, your thumbs passed below his eyes to soothe him. Instinctively, you kissed his forehead, nose, cheeks, continuing your comforting words. And it seemed to work cause your second chance was awesome. You were saved by the public and you jumped into his arms. Your hands grabbed Tom’s face for a moment and you kissed both his cheeks with way too much enthusiasm that your lips almost touched. Tom then buried his face in your neck, hidden by your loose hair. He would be lying if he said he didn't want you to actually kiss him. Well, not exactly. He wanted to kiss you; he was craving it every time he walked into the rehearsal room. But he didn't want your first kiss to be on TV in front of millions of viewers. His stomach twisted with emotion. Was it possible that you felt something for him or was it just awkwardness due to your infatuation?

Oddly enough, all that damn tension kinda evaporated when you did your paso doble the following week. It wasn't until week eight, a few steps from the final, that everything really changed: Argentine tango week.

With his glass of protein smoothie hanging in front of his lips, Harrison watched the scene unfolding in the garden with very conflicting emotions. Tom pulled you back to his body with such ferocity, your leg almost to his shoulder as his hand slid down your ankle to throw your leg back. The brunette then spun you around before grabbing your wrists with both hands, a dominant position for a technical move.

"Hey mate, do you want to..."

Tuwaine stopped in his tracks when he saw his blond friend totally overshadowed by the scene. He let out a hoarse laugh that brought Harrison out of his reverie.

"Dude, I never thought watching my best friend dancing a tango could trigger something in me. I'm going at Gracie's." he complained with a sigh

"Do you think they fucked?" Tuwaine asked.

"If they haven't yet, they definitely need it ... look at this ..."

Harry walked into the room too, controller in hand, before he even spoke, he followed his friends' gaze to see you and his brother repeating over and over again. Tom was now carrying you at arm's length before letting go of you with a little push. The three friends said "Shit" in sync of anticipation before seeing the brunette catch you in his arms like a bride, in a very controlled manner. Tom then put you back on the ground and you continued your movements until he stopped you again, your back against his chest, his hands all over your body in an artistic and sensual spectacle. The expressions on your faces truly reflected an inner struggle. You could feel the consuming passion between the two of you just looking at you and it was hard to deduce if you were acting for the storytelling aspect of the dance or if you were being sincere.

"Damn ... If I have to go through this sexual tension between these two again, I think I'm going to go and isolate myself at mom and dad’s."

On your side, you were so caught up in your rehearsal that you didn't notice your audience. At the end of the dance, you were both out of breath, your noses were touching, your eyes were on fire. If you had to listen to your heart, this was the perfect time to break the tension and kiss it and Tom seemed to be thinking the same as his eyes vacated from your eyes to your lips.

"It was perfect, Tom. Perfect." You finally said.

This little sentence allowed the actor to refocus and move away from you, reluctantly.

"Yeah ... You have to repeat that lift again ... you know, the one where you spin on the floor"

You can see exactly what figure he was talking about. It was quite difficult, indeed, and it was impossible to perform this stunt in Tom's cobbled garden, unless you wanted to tear your blank to shreds. You let out a little laugh and nod your head.

"By the way, mom wants us to go for brunch."

"With pleasure. May I ... take a shower first?"

The question seemed to throw off and he shook his head before inviting you inside to show you the bathroom. As you walked through the glass door, you felt three pairs of eyes on you and your heart began to beat with anxiety. Did Tom's friends sense the tension between you? Seeing the blond' smirk, it seems so. You went upstairs and locked yourself in the room as soon as Tom showed you which door it was. The brunette moved into the living room where his friends had started a fifa - and apparently Harrison had decided to stay -. It was Tuwaine who noticed the actor first and took the initiative to tease him.

"No need to subscribe to Pornhub anymore ... you guys are hot." Tuwaine joked.

"Yeah man… no way you weren't fantasizing about her." Harrison added

Tom's ears were as red as his cheeks in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. He rested his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands which were slipping through his hair.

"To be honest, she's driving me crazy. I don't even know how to take the first step towards her"

"Hmm ... kiss her, dumbass," Harry said, exasperated.

"I can't kiss her like this, unprecedented"

"Unprecedented? Are you kidding me? You're not going to tell me that you don't have a single chance to kiss her as your both bodies burn with sexual tension every time you dance together." his brother stormed sarcastically.

But to Tom, it seemed so sudden. He knew he was thinking too much, that he just had to ... seize the opportunity as soon as it presented itself. But there was so much at stake: his friendship with you - but was this complicity really friendship? Would he lose you if you didn't feel the same? What about the competition? You were about to go to the semi-finals, if you made it that primetime. Was he ready to start a relationship with you? Would he know how to manage his jealousy in the face of you, being close to your future dance partners?

On your side, you heaved a sigh of relief at the contact of the hot water. The soapy water wiped the sweat off your skin but the knot in your lower abdomen was still there. The tension that had accumulated between Tom and you, especially during this tango, was becoming too heavy to bear, it was becoming unbearable. You still felt like you had his hands all over you, and your own hands soaping you didn't get rid of the burn from his touch. You threw your head back against the tile in the shower. You weren't going to get rid of the feeling like that, with nothing to do but you were at Tom's, and by the greatest of luck, it was his shower gel that you had used. You smelled like him, still felt like his fingers were stroking your skin. Your dominant hand slid down your stomach as you bite your lip. No. No you couldn't. Once again, you were at Tom's. There were people downstairs. But you were in need and your hand ventured lower still. Your index finger began to go around your clitoris, you closed your eyes to take advantage of the moment. Softly you slipped between your folds in a weak moan. You were trying as best you could to be as quiet as possible, your free hand running through your hair, down your neck, caressing your collarbone and then your boobs. You inserted a finger inside you and a louder sigh escaped your throat. It was so good. You picked up the pace with your fingers, hitting as hard and as far as you could. Your hand came to tighten against your throat as your thumb stroked your lip, representing Tom's hand instead of yours. It was so easy to imagine the brunette with you, his scent was everywhere and you almost had the feeling of feeling his breath on your neck. But you had the feeling of "not enough". Reluctantly, you released your hand from your throat and fumbled to grab the shower head to bring it in front of your private parts. The pressure and temperature took you deeper into your dizziness and your fingers kicked even harder until you felt your legs shaking. Tom's name slipped from your lips as you let go. What you didn't know was that Tom was right behind the door, ready to knock to tell you that he was going to have to leave for brunch soon. Everything then happened so quickly. As soon as I got out of the shower, it was time to go to Tom's parents. At no time has this unconsciously shared secret been put on the table. No opportunities actually presented themselves. Then the repetitions started again, again and again ... until the evening of your elimination.

You would have liked to have won. Honestly, you thought you were going to win but your opponents were formidable. The final was very complicated. Several dances, including the Charleston that you did at the start of the adventure. You were proud of your journey. And even though you hadn't won, you had decided to celebrate the occasion with the team, celebrating the winners. After a few drinks, you headed to a London pub with Tom's close friends. You were so proud of him, so happy to have lived this show and to have made it to the final. But the melancholy and sadness gnawed at you a bit. What would happen afterwards? You were comfortably installed in a box with Tom by your side. You were alone, apart. His brother, Harry and his friends were at the back of the room, screaming a rock song while dancing, beer in hand. You were both euphoric but the tension was still palpable. But alcohol seemed to suppress inhibitions. One of Tom's hands was on the bottom of your thigh as he turned to face you.

"Fuck! That was so crazy."

"Fuck, yeah!" you said back

"You know ... even if we didn't win ... I'm happy"

You wanted to speak but Tom grabbed your cheek in his other hand, his gaze burning. His thumb stroked your cheek. You swallowed hard while admiring his chocolate eyes. You could feel your heart rate speeding up. Fuck how you wanted to swallow his finger and lick it. You had dreamed so much about his hands and you were obsessed with his touch. His hands were so warm, soft but you could feel he knew how to work with them. His hands weren't delicate, they were manly, in their own way. You could admire the veins in his arms and it twisted your lower abdomen. It was sexy. Your mind was sending you images of Tom pinning you against a wall, mattress, table, his veins drawn across his arms as his body swept back and forth against you. You swallow hard again as Tom continued to speak.

"Let me finish. I'm happy because, even if we didn't win ... I won everything ... I met you ..."

"Tom ..." you tried to speak, but what were you going to say? You didn't know it yourself

"And I'm a jerk."

“Tom…”

“I’m a fucking jerk because I wanted to kiss you so many times but I never had the balls to do it. And god knows I've been craving it for a while.”

Your heart exploded just like your lower abdomen contracted. One more word, one more touch and you could completely let go in this moment. He didn't seem to realize how mutual it was.

“And I heard you…” he continued.

"what?"

"In the shower last week ... you said my name. I couldn't take you out of my thoughts that night. I kept… I kept imagining that sweet sound and what it could be if it was me who really makes you these things"

You were in a bit of shock. First, Tom confessed to you that he was attracted to you, now you learned that he had heard you. Your body reacted before your mind. You passed your thigh over his legs to straddle him. Your lips moved closer to him; you were determined. To hell with the people around you, to hell with hesitation, you wanted him, so bad.

"Damn, kiss me already."

The fire in Tom's eyes sparkled his gaze, you could first see a hint of incomprehension there before you saw the desire in it. You bit your lip as your pelvis sank against Tom's crotch to signal your approval. It melted on your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands were all over you again; your legs, your kidneys, your back. Your teeth rattled at times from the eagerness of the kiss, but it was so good, almost as hot as your tango. You needed to feel it against you, to release that tension. Your hands were in his hair, pulling lightly at the roots. Tom groaned in the kiss.

"Let's go to your place ..." you whispered in his ear.

You've never been so quick to leave a bar, or even get to Tom's. The door barely slammed as he slammed you against the wall, both of his hands gripping your thighs as you jumped up to wrap yourself around him. You let out a moan when you felt its bulge against you.

"Wait…" Tom stepped back slightly.

"Tom ..." you complained.

"No ... no ... I want you to know that I really appreciate you. Not ... just physically."

"Damn, me too Tom, but if you don't fuck me now I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands."

The brunette let out a small laugh before carrying you to his room where he laid you on the bed with a little too much enthusiasm. You yelled slightly in surprise as Tom hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head. You had seen him shirtless before but it was even more beautiful when you knew it was more intimate. It was quite intimidating and at the same time, you didn't feel the need to talk. Tom kissed you again, more tenderly, deflecting onto your neck, his hands sliding under your top to touch your already too sensitive skin. You moaned his name as your own hands caressed his shoulders, his back. The heat in your crotch choked your whole body. Tom's fingers wandered over the zipper of your jeans, he gave you a look for your consent and you just nodded. You eagerly helped him remove your pants, surprising it slightly when your underwear fell off at the same time. You gave him a naughty smile that the brunette returned to you. You then remove your top so that he can admire your breasts still shapely by your bra.

"Damn, you're beautiful," he huffed, desire burning in his eyes.

You kissed him as you lay down on the bed again. Tom's hands began to caress your skin again, his thumbs applying light pressure to the inside of your thighs and you were opening your legs almost instinctively. His fingers began to roam your privacy, sliding between your folds. You threw your head back against the pillow not without noticing the smirk he had on his face.

"You are so wet ... are you impatient?"

"Fuck ..."

Tom kept playing with your labia to reach for the clit, you moaned at his touch and it only made him smile more. He started drawing circles against your sensitive button, sometimes rolling it between those fingers to alternate between his index finger and thumb. Your legs were contracting with each little wave of pleasure. Tom reveled in the sight beneath him and his erection grew bigger and more uncomfortable, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to see you collapse under him, feel you lose your mind just by his touch. He slipped a finger inside you enjoying the soft sound of your moan before starting to pump in a steady rhythm. You already felt a first orgasm rising, your nerves slowly loosening. The pleasure was overwhelming, the sexual tension you had tried to suppress too great and the mere touch of Tom was driving you crazy. You weren't going to last long, you had been waiting for this moment too long to enjoy a long, sultry fuck. It was too much for Tom, he needed you to touch him. He then unbuttoned his own jeans and pulled his pants down below his buttocks. You caught his signal and then your hand grabbed his hard cock. You started to pump, letting Tom growl in pleasure, letting out a few curses. The feel of your fingers on his dick was divine, the pressure all the more pleasant but it just didn't seem enough.As Tom added a second finger, you moaned louder, slightly complaining.

"Tom ..." you moaned.

"What is it, love." he asked, in a naughty tone

"More."

"More?"

"I want more ... please."

"Tell me what you want ... use your words my pretty girl"

"You ... I want you inside me, please."

He could have played you motherfuckers and said he was already inside you, but he wanted you just as much right now as you wanted him. Tom kissed you fervently then leaned over to his nightstand to grab a condom from the drawer. You were under birth control but you like the fact that it protects itself as well. He placed the condom on his hard member and positioned himself at your entrance.

"We can stop at any time."

"Tom, fuck me."

“Your desires are my orders, love.”

When he sank into you, you both let out a full moan. It was so good. After a few seconds of adaptation, Tom started to move at a steady pace. You circled his shoulders with your arms, stroking his skin with your fingers as you moved your pelvis trying to find a rhythm.

"Fuck, y/n. You're so tight"

You moaned at the sound of your name and Tom knocked a little harder, farther, just over your G spot. Another moan rang out in the room and your fingernails started to scratch Tom's back. He picked up the pace, restraining himself from moaning your name over and over again, to no avail. You felt a new wave of pleasure, even more powerful than the previous ones, and one of your hands caught on the base of her hair.

"I'm going to cum ..."

"That's it, baby ... cum for me."

Tom wasn't far either, one of his hands grabbed his headboard to stabilize his pace as he held you by the hip. His punches were faster, more powerful. Your eyes fell on his arm, contracted, his veins drawn as he hammered you. Your orgasm exploded out of your throat and you squeezed yourself around his cock. Tom had to catch up on your hip, repositioning both of his hands on your body as the sensation of you collapsing plunged him into his own orgasm, moaning your name in unison with you moaning his. He collapsed on the bed, rolling next to you before removing the condom, tying a knot, and throwing it to the floor, mentally noting to throw it in the trash later. You approached him and put your hand on his chest, slightly shiny. You kissed his skin tenderly, gently recovering from your emotions. Tom ran his hand over your head, stroking your hair.

"I'm so glad I was on this show. I never would have met you if I hadn't." he entrusted you tenderly.

"I'm glad you were on this show too." you smiled at him.

"I like you, y/n y/l/n"

"I like you too, tom holland."

You both laughed a little. Tom leaned over you and kissed you. He might not have won dancing with the stars. Maybe he hadn't brought home a trophy. But he had you ... and it was way better than anything he had hoped for.

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader

316 notes · View notes

wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

braid boy

Okay so I wrote two versions of this fic one where the reader is black/ has natural hair (this one!) and one where they aren't (read here)

Sero x reader

warnings: I am white as sour cream and I followed a couple tutorials to write this I'm so sorry if what I've written makes no sense.

word count: 1,000 (about)

summary: Hanta just can't keep his hands off of you...r hair

“Oh, hey sweetie,” you said looking up at Hanta. Sero smiled at you and leaned over the back of the couch, he cupped your chin and tilted your head back, and kissed you. He felt you smile against your lips and he started to melt.

Sero groaned and fell over the couch and landed in your lap. You laughed and stroked his cheek.

“Well hello there handsome,” you said. Hanta tried to brush his bangs out of his eyes but the hair fell right back in his face. He tried again and again, it fell right back in his face. You laughed as he huffed.

“Babyyy help I can’t see you,” he whined. “I need to cut my hair,” he huffed.

“No It’s sexy when it’s long like this,” you said making Hanta flush. He knew you thought he was hot, but it was nice to hear you say it.

“Here let me,” you said pushing him to sit up, he followed your lead and sat, even though he was tired enough to fall asleep standing. Gently you carded your fingers through his black hair pulling it away from his face and off the back of his neck. You picked a hair tie off the coffee table and snapped it on.

“tada,” said holding up your phone so he could see. Sero turned his head looking at the braid. Man, it had been a while since he’d seen his forehead.

“It’s perfect,” he said turning around to give you a kiss. “Now I can keep my hair long and see you,” he said kissing you one more time, he cupped your cheek and pulled you into him, he stroked the side of your head, accidentally touching some of the baby hairs that framed your face.

“Any plans darling? We’ve got the whole day to do whatever you want,” he said smiling at you goofily.

“I was actually going to do my hair today,” you said

“Oo let me help,”

“You can’t braid my hair the way I braided your Hanta,”

“I know,” he scoffed, then got suddenly got bashful. “I’ve been watching tutorials online and some of my friends even let me practice on them,” he explained.

“Please?” he asked. He looked so cute, you just couldn’t say no.

The two of you settled in the living room, everything you used laid out for him, and enough Real House Wife’s episodes to last you years.

“This is going to take forever,” you warned, he cracked his knuckles.

“I’m ready,”

He started by combing through your hair than doing a little bit of prep work, priming spray, straightening your hair slightly with a heated brush, moisturizer, then coconut oil to lock in the moister. Then Hanta made his way around your head sectioning the hair into smaller pieces using tiny elastics. Then he got down to business, he took two pieces of synthetic hair, linked them together in the middle then laying one half of the loop over your natural hair right at the base of your scalp, wrapping and knotting it in place, then keeping the hair as close to your head as possible he started to braid. He was very careful to braid the hair in the direction the braids would eventually lay.

You hadn’t lied, it took the better part of the afternoon and you went through way more Real housewives than either of you’d like to admit, but Hanta sat back proud, looking at his work.

“Done, praise me beloved,” he said. You smiled.

“Not half bad,” you teased and leaned in to kiss him.

But before you could reach him, the lights shut off. “Huh,” Sero said, he tired the tv, nothing. The lights the ceiling fan, the stove, all nothing.

“I think the power’s off,” you said, he nodded, his face grave like he’d snapped back into hero mode.

“Will you find the candles? I’m going to call the building manager.” you nodded and followed his orders, digging through some drawers until you found a handful of candles and matches. The sun was setting casting golden rays of light into your shared home. It was romantic, or at least it would be if you weren’t freaked about the power outage.

“Apparently the powers out down the block but it should be back in a few hours,” Hanta said clicking his phone off

“How long is a few hours exactly?” you asked

“The landlord said two hours but I’m willing to bet it will be at least four,” he sighed. Your frown deepened, “awe don’t pout baby we can still have fun even without internet, we’ll play battleship or something,”

“Hanta if the power is out, the AC is out,” you sighed and Hanta’s face fell as he came to the same realization. You were in the middle in one of the worst heat waves Japan had ever seen, both of you were going to be cooked alive.

“We’re going to die,” he said, the grave look on his face made you burst out laughing. Hanta grinned, you were so pretty when you laughed.

“Would you like to spend the night with me while we’re roasted alive?” he asked offering you his hand, you grinned and took his hand in yours lacing your fingers with his.

“Of course.” It was already starting to heat up inside, the hot air seeping through the walls, the summer mugginess inescapable. You wondered if this heat was what caused the outage, everyone in Japan running their air conditioning on full blast.

Normally Hanta would use this opportunity to pull you into him for a long nap and some snuggles. It had been a long time since Hanta had been scared of rejection, but he was fairly sure that if he asked you to hold him now you’d shoot him down.

“How about a nice cold shower together? I mean the water still works,” he asked.

“There aren’t any windows in the bathroom, we’d be completely in the dark,”

“That’s what the candles are for, we’ll just stick the candles in the shower and-” he offered, then immediately backtracked. “Nevermind that was a bad idea, a bath?”

“Hmm, a candle-lit bath, how romantic,” you said, tugging him to the bathroom.

The two of you lounged in the bath across from each other. Hanta had spent a pretty penny getting a bathtub long enough for him to fit in comfortably as an added bonus the tub ended up being large enough for two. The water was cool, lit with several different candles placed around the lip of the tub.

Hanta let himself relax for the first time that day. He loved his job but sometimes it felt like the world was on his shoulders, but being here with you and just basking in your presents made it better. Even if he had to work hard to be everyone’s hero, but at least you were there for him his own personal hero.

#sero x reader #sero imagine #sero hanta x reader #sero x black!reader #sero hanta #sero x reader fluff

120 notes · View notes

sweetestpopcorn · 2 years

Note

The White Princess book is worse than the Starz tv show. In the books, Henry VII is a irremediable jerk. What does Philippa Gregory have against the Tudors?

Hi there!

I actually also read the book, and I don't know... in some ways the show is hum... not better but less bad? In other ways the book is less bad. Yes, Henry and Elizabeth's relationship is less bad in the show and it especially kills me because the two actors are very well casted and have amazing chemistry together! So the show did have the potential to be very good! Jodie is so amazing and Jacob could have been an amazing Henry as well. But everyone on that show just acts so "unroyal". Like I cannot for the life of me forget that episode when Henry just stats beating up his own mother and throwing her around before half the court! Like... what meth did you take before writing that?! And having watched the lady responsible for the show, oh what's her name... Emma something... explaining why she had everything about Perkin aka "Richard" (hahaha lol!) being "light and bright" to show he was good and pure, and everything around Henry being "dark and black" to show he was bad I just... Do you think your audience has an average mental age of 4 years, woman?! And this is what I hate about the majority of shows nowadays in a nutshell, they think people are complete idiots who will eat everything up and that they can just give any trash and that people will take it and praise them cof cof G*T and subsequent REDACTED SHOW cof cof being two prime examples of treating people like dumbasses who can't tell a chair from a table and expecting to get praised for it.

This all said and I still do prefer the show because the book was just...

One of my favourite parts was when after having an affair with her uncle Richard who was about 32, Elizabeth complains of what a pervert Henry is for being so much older than her.

*Drum Roll*

Henry VII was 28.

So 28 > 32. K, Philippa, your move. People in REDACTED SHOW must have gone to the same school she went to, though, cause y'all are just as "good" at basic arithmetic 🤗 Queens, go off! GO OFF! You are right who gets to even decide what numbers are bigger than other numbers! F_ck you mathematicians!

On a side note again, I think Philippa would cut off a foot for the opportunity to write about the characters of asoiaf because there's incest everywhere and magic 😂😂😂 the woman would have a field day!

And yes, I don't know what the Tudors did to her, and I don't know how many org@sms Richard III gave her, but I believe the right answers are: killed her whole family and quadruple org@sms. So... go off I guess, Philippa.

I got nothing else to add.

But this woman's success does explain a LOT of how sh_t gets approved on networks and sh_t is so successful. I just... I am tired.

Btw if any of you are Tudor fans I would like to suggest The Laughing Cavalier's channel over on youtube because he tears these shows apart in such a funny way! Love him!

youtube

#the white princess #philippa gregory #show us on the doll where the tudors hurt you #the laughing cavalier #popcorn answers

10 notes · View notes

gandrewheadcannons · 3 years

Text

I wanted to share some writing I had done earlier this summer with you all! If you like it let me know if I should continue? It’s meant to be a story focusing around the beginning of their time in Washington and into the podcast. I’ve left it at a really weird stop but that’s all I had so far.

Title: Undetermined

Pairing: Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki

Tags: Mention of prescription medicine, mention of Jeffree/Shane/Ryland, unfinished

Evening is dimly creeping through the half-opened windowpane casting a glow across the built-in table connected to the cramped inner wall of Andrew's microscopic kitchenette. His studio apartment in LA sat cramped in-between Hollywood and Calabasas, a mediocre waypoint for his work for the last few years. He clicks the viewfinder and focuses on the bright oranges and yellows that dance teasingly across the glittering tabletop; catching flicks of sliver and reflecting them back to the lens. A mug of dark roast with just an edge of too much cream is left forgotten in the corner of the frame. It feels cinematic and lonely all at once. The cafe style booth he sits in causes his back to ache, the rest of the kitchen a sterile and unforgiving white, but he misses capturing the day to day beauty the world had to offer. He imagines the reel being played back with a layered sound of twinkling windchimes, quiet laughter and a piano reverb with cuts of the morning sunrise on a hike and steam off the top of a ceramic mug. A familiar face with flecks of blonde in the beard, strong jawed and a roguish smile weaving in and out of the frame, turning back to laugh at something the cameraman said.

“-with a mandate like this.” Garrett is brushing his teeth through Facetime. Andrew catches the corner of his bamboo toothbrush flashing in and out of the lens. He must have laid his Iphone flat on the countertop because when Andrew really looks he can see the bottom of the mirror and a bunch of bright light.

“I know. It sucks. Couldn’t get honey the other day, man. Fucking honey. It’s not like the bees are going anywhere.” He laughs but it doesn’t feel funny. The minimal supply he had was dwindling thin. He was beginning to ration his meals and he wasn’t sure how much toilet paper was left under the bathroom sink. It was all very apocalyptic without any of the zombies or scientists swooping in with immediate remedies.

“Ah dude.” Garrett spits and there’s a tapping sound like he’s hitting his toothbrush on the edge of the porcelain sink before he fully pops into frame. He looks relaxed, sandy hair flopped to one side and beard properly scruffy though they’d only been locked down about a week and a half now. “I know. I can’t handle it anymore. I miss people.” Andrew hums at that. He doesn’t really. He misses the occasional gathering, sure, but he hadn’t quite placed his anxiety surrounding the idea of seeing others since they’d released the Jeffree series. "What was it that bothered you most about taking part in this?" His therapist had asked him. "I missed the fun," he’d answered. "What was the fun?" She’d pressed deeper. "Garrett," Andrew had been quick to reply. "And like. Everyone else too." He'd added when she hadn't said anything. "I miss it not feeling work." She had let him talk about that instead.

"Some people." He tacks on to Garrett who hums easily. He doesn’t think he misses many of the people he’d spent most of 2019 with, his life a mixed cocktail of Ambien, Adderall and Lexapro without any feelings of relaxation manifesting. His psychiatrist had discouraged upping his doses anymore and by early January she began urging him to begin seeking new opportunities to “work on his environment”. He hadn’t quite figured out the avenue to take to do just that.

"Well, some people." Garrett agrees and he's already back out on his couch. "I don't know how many more times I can watch Winter Soldier before I freak out." Garrett sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Same as you and every other person." He turns his camera off. He needs the break from the screen.

"I miss you." Garrett is easy like that. He isn't ashamed to tell people how he feels in every moment. It was something to be admired and yet Andrew just felt envy at it. When Garrett had begun to slip away from him, melting like honeydew sweet and sour into a depth of a place where Andrew couldn't quite find him, he'd only managed to grab him back out by Garrett's honesty. Doesn't know if they'd be having this conversation if Garrett hadn't used that honesty like an anchor and letting Andrew catch him last minute with it.

"I can come over." Andrew offers. He hates being confined in these walls anyways. It was hollow and dark. The email from Shane still sat open on his Mac across the room on his bed. Thinking of extending the break, can't really decide. Want to get quarantined together? I have a few video ideas we could maybe mess around with or just film some day to day footage until creativity strikes us it reads. His skin itches for the company but the image of their guest room makes him uneasy. Doesn't know if he could withstand being there with very little to fill his hands with, editing complete and no real ideas on the table for the time being.

"I can come to you." Garrett offers like he was inconveniencing Andrew who had offered anyways.

"If you touch your car right now I am going to freak out Garrett Watts." Andrew admonishes. "The second they open up the garages and mechanics again I'm making you take that thing there, burn it and we get a new one." He's opening a duffle now and throwing in his travel toiletries and a few pairs of underwear.

"Oh come on Andrew it's not so bad." Garrett laughs as if Andrew wasn't still reeling from the aftermath phone call of Garrett nearly wrecking on the 101 barreling top speeds until he reached a secluded patch of grass to slow his Pirus down onto. By the time Andrew heard the story Garrett was okay; Michael had gone to pick him up and Garrett was sending pictures of little Star Wars figurines that Michael kept mounted on his dashboard. His heart didn’t calm until he had managed to get his hands on Garrett in person though, sneaking out for an afternoon to grab some coffee with Garrett before heading back to Shane’s to finish editing. His shins still feel heavy with the weight of Garrett’s calf as he’d pressed their knees together until the table while they’d talked – the weight reminding him of how alive and okay Garrett really was.

"Oh yeah a car that dies out randomly is really great." Andrew throws in a box of protein bars and a Gatorade into his bag. He hesitates before grabbing a stitched bear made from gray yarn, green buttons for eyes luring him in. "I'll be over soon." He doesn't know how well the conversation will hold up over Facetime as he's moving.

"Okay cool Andrew." Garrett's eyes are soft. "See you soon. My dad is actually calling."

"Tell him I said hi. See you soon." He so easily could tack on endearment, babe at the tip of his tongue burning hot. Garrett's ending the call before Andrew even has the chance.

The half opened can of frosting is across from, the only lights on are the ones twinkling from some intricate set up Garrett had on a shelf. Garrett’s on the third loop of the home screen on Prime, humming thoughtfully whenever he pauses on a summary to read but then continuing to scroll before picking one. He’s slumped down low, long legs kicked out on the coffee table while Andrew is curled up in a ball against his side. Once, Caleb had pointed out that if people didn’t know them they’d get the impression that they were dating. Garrett and Andrew had awkwardly laughed at that comment, tinged with humiliation at how their relationship was being interpreted. They tried to be better then, not letting themselves fall so in sync when other people were around.

Andrew loved it like this though, when it was just him and Garrett, so he could press his cheek into Garrett’s bicep and not have to question why it felt so right. In his left hand his phone illuminated with another message from Shane. Opening it he read a message about how much they all missed him and wanted him there during this time. Apparently Ryland was looking for someone to help film a video he had planned. He quickly shut the screen off and pulled back from Garrett some, his stomach in a sudden tangle of knots.

“Good?” Garrett asked him looking down. His crew neck was for Spokane and looked a little like the Taco Bell logo from when they were younger. He’d paired it with a pair of sweat shorts for the night as they were both supposed to be going to bed soon. Andrew picked at his own Adidas track pants, imagining a loose thread to busy his hands.

“You ever just. Feel like you gotta get out?” He tilts his head to the side and watches Garrett pause what he’s doing with his Playstation controller and set it carefully on his coffee table.

“In what way?” He asks thoughtfully, turning so his chest was open to Andrew. Their knees bumped and Andrew felt like a little boy when he wished he could crawl and hide in the empty space of Garrett’s lap.

“Like okay. Say you just really loved what you used to do. You basically achieved your dream job. You have all these amazing people, you like your boss, things are going really great and you’re making a lot of money.”

“You buy yourself a really good vacuum.” Garrett plays along teasingly causing them both to laugh.

“You get yourself those stackable containers for your meal prepped lunches.” Andrew plays back. “But then…” He runs his tongue inside his teeth then outside methodically. He searches his brain to try to figure out what to say to Garrett to

“Then?” He drums his fingers on Andrew’s knees to get him back to the present.

#gandrew #gw #as #my writing

35 notes · View notes

where-dreamers-go · 3 years

Note

I’d love a platonic Boba Fett x Mandalorian! reader where reader worked with the clones as a kid, so she got really good at telling them apart by the tiniest details! So when he meets her on a hunt or something she recognizes him immediately and they catch up over a meal. Then they maybe finish the hunt together or just just talk about fights they’ve been in? Thank you dear!!

“Reunion” Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader

(A/N: Requested by the awesome @the-and-sign-anon.

Here’s some platonic Boba Fett fanfiction for yah! I feel like this has taken me a year to do, but it hasn’t, obviously. I just want it to be cool. I hope you like it! This is my first time writing for Boba Fett.

Aliit - family

Beskar’gam - armor

Buir - father

Vod - brother

Warnings: Canon violence (blasters). Death (no details).

Word Count: 1,445 words)

Late afternoon on an Outer Rim planet was not out of the norm for you. The system’s small sun casted long shadows behind the roughly structured buildings. A coolness crept into the air as evening grew near.

Perched atop of a well used cantina, you awaited a clearing near your intended location across the main square. You preferred less attention where you were going. The less people at small tucked-away building’s entrance the better.

It should not be much longer, you thought.

Earlier in the day, you had staked out the surroundings and where exactly you were to get the object. The bounty of the hunt. Was the objected named by the one who hired you? No, they had only told you who had it and where. Then added that it was valuable and quite decorative.

Helpful, you mused sarcastically.

Standing up, you decided that you would make it the right time to grab what you needed. The shortcut route would be best. Not the fastest way per se, but more your style. Rooftops were fine walkways in their own right. You were more interested in keeping the high ground. Only being in the area for less than twenty-four hours was a semi-followed rule of yours. Plus there were sightings of other bounty hunters.

It was prime opportunity to get the object of the bounty and leave. No more further delays.

Armor glinting in the sunlight, you kept your shadow hidden within the growing darkness cast by buildings and their antennae.

Three buildings and clothesline away from the unguarded door, you paused.

A bounty hunter.

You knew of course that there were others hired to grab the same object, however the one that caught you eye did not tickle your fancy nor did you care for their style. Too flashy with his large weaponry and inflated attitude. He was strutting a little too close to the door of your objective. Not to forget he was causing more trouble than needed. Pushing citizens around physically and verbally was unnecessary.

Can easily get passed him while he’s occupied. You thought, boot pointed in the direction of a small balcony below. Just—

Green paint grabbed your full attention. A very specific colored Beskar’gam in the next structure over. The sight of the colors and their arrangement lead you into a pursuit. The Mandalorian was steadily leaving a building. Closer. A small dent on his helmet.

You smiled, your thoughts on the bounty pushed aside.

Time to say ‘hello’, you thought as you leaped down into the dusty path.

A blaster was already lowering from its aim as you rose to your full height, meaning he recognized you.

The Mandalorian’s stance was slightly relaxed yet bent and ready to move. There were a few moments of long silence. Two Mandalorians watching one another.

“Are you just gonna stand there quietly?” A modulated male voice spoke from the green helmet. An accent in his voice pulled the air from your lungs. The familiarity striking and comforting.

“I wanted to give dramatic effect.” You said as you lifted one of your blaster pistols.

“Not sure your knees will approve.”

“Probably not.”

The grin you held disappeared as someone rounded the corner. A tall weapon in their hand. The bounty hunter you had spotted before. Not a well known one, you had not heard much of him. Only disliked any time you crossed paths, however briefly.

“Two Mandalorians? What…are you two after the bounty?” He laughed. “Why don’t you go shine your armor.” With loud steps, he walked closer. “Something you’re good at, right?”

That one’s unreasonable, you thought.

“If you’re after the bounty, why stop and chat?” You asked.

“What are you gonna do about it?” They clicked their tongue. “I’m going to get it anyway. Can’t have dusty troopers in my light.” A gloved finger edged to the trigger of his weapon as he continued forward. “Rona Olien. I’m that good.”

You and Boba turned your helmets to face one another. A silent conversation and decision transpired.

click

You charged forward in a crouch as the first round of blaster fire came from the bounty hunter’s modified weapon. The blasts stopped as the bounty hunter, Olien, staggered back as a blasterbolt hit them in the shoulder. Boba’s doing. Using the blunt end of your blaster pistol, you hit the side of the man’s head. The bounty hunter landed on the ground in a heap, groaning.

Walking up beside you, Boba kicked the large weapon out from Olien’s grip.

“If you’re going to shoot a Mandalorian, next time have better aim,” said Boba.

The two of you started walking away from the man. That was until a laser fire hit the wall of a building beside you.

In a flash of color, Boba had angled in a twist and had fired his blaster.

thump

“They were quite rude,” you said as Boba turned back to you.

“No honor.” Your brother lowered his weapon and walked with you to the destination.

It did not take long for the both of you to enter the building and find what you were after. A little digging and Boba had it in his grasp.

“A vase?” You tilted your helmet-protected head.

“An expensive vase.” Boba clarified. Rotating the piece, he examined it.

“Is it more or less than the job?”

“A bit more. Not by much.”

“Is it enough for you?”

His green and silver helmet turned in your direction. “It’s enough that we can split the difference for the job. And don’t tell me you don’t need it.”

You raised your hands in mock defense.

“Come on,” Boba turned on his heel. “They can wait one more day for their vase.”

His words surprised you. Yet you knew deep down that family meant a great deal more to him than a job.

You and your brother walked to a decent hotel and rented a room for the night; after grabbing some food of course. Neither of you wanted to part ways immediately. Besides, communicating via two separate ships was not an ideal way of spending time with family you had not seen in years.

Once in the quiet and privacy of the room, you relaxed. The food, vase, and weapons were put aside.

“It’s good to see you, vod.” You walked up to one another and inclined your helmets together.

“I’ve missed you.” Boba took a step back. “There’s a dent in your shoulder piece.”

“I know,” you groaned. “Too bad it wasn’t on my helmet then we’d match.”

“Hardly.”

You shook your head, smiling. There were more scuff marks on his armor than you remembered. Then again, so did yours. You had not seen one another in more than two years. Taking different opportunities tended to do that.

Living in an Empire was much different than whatever it really was when you were younger. You and Boba practically grew up together on Kamino. A rainy world where all you two saw was the insides of the cloning facility. The three of you, your shared father included, stayed there together. Jango Fett, your buir, had found you on a battle-worn world and brought you into the aliit, family, where Boba was your constant companion. A vod who was your only aliit after the battle on Geonosis.

Lives could always change so suddenly. Ones who lived together and depended on one another could find themselves on opposite ends of the galaxy.

Comfortable where you were, you started removing your armor and setting it down in your preferred arrangement. It was strange to have your helmet off while in the presence of another, however your vod was a major exception. The was a freedom to it all, the familiarity and the opportunity to just be yourself with on you trusted.

“That guy from earlier…,” you started as you yanked off your boots. “Have you seen him before?”

“Once or twice. He’s sloppy.”

“And had an ego the size of a rancor’s butt.”

He chuckled at your comment.

“Tomorrow,” you sat back in your seat, “I think you should give them the vase. Just in case they think of shortening you credits because I’m with you.”

“Changing subjects fast….They wouldn’t dare.”

“Just in case. Plus the whole bounty hunter image…”

He scoffed. “You’re my aliit.” Sighing, he nodded. “Fine.”

“Now that’s settled.” You grabbed the food and brought it closer. “Let’s eat.”

And eat, you did. Lounging about, the two of you talked and joked about the past. Catching up was half the fun. Making new memories was even better.

“I really have missed you, Boba.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Star Wars Tags: @darkenwolfy @sweetheartliz07

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#Boba Fett x Reader #Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader #Boba Fett #where dreamers go #star wars #requested

84 notes · View notes

likethehorrormovie · 3 years

Text

Another horrible angsty headcanon:

Bakugou refused compete in the dorm competition- not because he was tired. And not because he thought it was dumb, either.

It was because his room was too empty without his All Might collection.

When Pinky had first suggested it- Bakugou should have leapt at the chance. He should have been reeling at the opportunity- he should have been itching for the moment he'd crush the rest of the class into the ground. Because- let's face it- two parents in the fashion industry? He was amazing at this.

When it came to design- Bakugou was as much as a prodigy in that as he was with anything else. Like- when it came to submitting their ideas for hero costumes- Bakugou didn't just send the "designers" a brief. He sent them a pattern he designed himself, the materials required and where to buy them, fabric dye brands and colours, specifications on the stitching size- and measurements right down to the fucking T.

He also included a note reminding them politely not to fuck with the design. Because he was good at this. And it showed pretty damn well- when the other losers showed up in lame ass excuses for costumes they themselves probably had barely even thought through. Even if the fuckass designer had put two dots on his costume against his WILL- Bakugou's outfit was still 10x better and more practical than anyone else who had set foot in UA.

Nah. When it came to design, Bakugou was easily the best. And he would never do something as fucking pathetic as half assing his own goddamn room.

Every item, every bit of furniture, every nicknack he owned fitted together into kickass perfection. Colour theory, placement: it matched- or it complimented- it was practical- it looked fucking awesome. He kept it clean cause he wasn't a fucking heathen, and he refused to buy anything for his room that wouldn't fit in with the rest.

...And no one even fucking knew it.

Not many people saw Bakugou's room, anymore. His middle school friends started fucking smoking when they turned twelve, and llike hell was he letting that stink near his room. And Deku hadn't been in there for... some time now.

So no one knew. No one had even the slightest inkling that Bakugou Katsuki would easily have the best room in the class. It wasn't even a fair fight.

So he should have been jumping at the chance to show them. Like he always did, when challenged. He should have been feeling the thunder of impending victory in his chest, kicking open his own door, and watching as everyone looked at his room in pure awe- and Bakugou was rightfully recognised as the 1A room King.

So he should have been excited. Right?

... Yet here he was. Standing, in the centre of his room- looking at two, cardboard boxes. Still packed. The contents, hidden away inside.

He could hear the muffled sounds of 1A chatter, coming from somewhere below. Gathering before the dorm competition began.

...Bakugou had snapped at Kirishima, when the red head offered to help him unpack these boxes. As if the dumbass hadn't already been helping Bakugou with all the other boxes- without a even a hint of complaint from his explosive friend.

Kirishima had apologized, good naturedly, like he always did. Before leaving the room. (And leaving Bakugou with an unfamiliar feeling curling in his chest.)

Bakugou stared at the boxes. They stared back.

He'd packed these a while ago. A day or so before they were told about the dorm system, actually. It had felt too weird going to sleep with this... stuff in his room. Looking at him.

It's your fault.

So, he'd packed it away. Scooping it all off shelves, and putting it into two cardboard boxes he had lying around. It just about fit.

He hadn't been quite sure what he wanted to do with them. Putting them in the attic was too permanent. And like hell was he throwing this away. Some of it was even limited edition. So- the boxes had stayed, on the floor of his bedroom, for about a week. His bedroom at home.

He hadn't... He hadn't wanted to take them with him. He'd tried to say he wanted to leave them behind- but the hag said they were taking up to much space. That he either took them to the dorms... Or they got thrown away.

So he took them.

... When Kirishima had left the room, ten minutes ago, he'd been wearing that little hopeful expression of his. The one he got sometimes- like the time he asked Bakugou to come swimming. One he struggled to say no to.

This time: the expression had appeared after telling Bakugou about the dorm competition. Asking him if he was up for the "super manly" challenge.

"Fucking maybe. I don't give a shit. Bet your rooms all suck ass, anyway." Bakugou had told him.

...Alone in his room- Bakugou moved forward to the partially opened box. The one Kirishima had gotten part way through ripping into- before Bakugou had realised- and told him to fuck off, Shitty Hair!

With his right hand, he peeled the box open. Peering, as if with fucking apprehension, at the items he knew were inside. As the cardboard moved, his eyes came to land on-

Knock-knock-knock!- "Bakugou!"

Katsuki startled. Whipping around towards the door.

"The fuck do you want- Shitty hair?!" He yelled back. Perhaps pummelling a little more aggression into his tone than he should have. He looked back to the item in the box.

"The competitions starting, bro!" Kirishima laughed back. Not seeming to notice. "Thought you'd wanna come see everyone's rooms before we get to your floor."

Bakugou paused.

"Come on man, you're gonna wanna see these!" The red head continued. Before he paused. In a way that Bakugou knew meant a devious smirk was blooming across the red head's face. "... Hey," he spoke. "...Did you know Midoryia has a crazy All Might collection?"

Bakugou stilled. Still transfixed the object in the box. (It's your turn.)

"No seriously bro, it's like an otakus room!" Kirishima spoke again, when Bakugou didn't answer. "You know... I wonder if anyone can beat him..." Hw trailed off. The challenge in his tone clear, but playful. Joking- if Bakugou was being pragmatic about it.

Bakugou didn't answer. He was still staring at the object. At the others, too. All the ones in the cardboard box. Each one, matching the other. In terms of colour. Size. Each complimenting every single other thing he possessed, in one way or another. He'd never realised how much he-

"Hey Bakubro?" Kirishima's voice interrupted. Bakugou cursed internally, as he recognised the tone of uncertainty in his voice.

"Haah?!" He responded. On instinct.

"...You coming?" Kirishima asked. That hopeful tone- on the frays of his voice, once more. Katsuki paused.

"Nah." He replied. Voice even, as he looked back at an All Might figurine. Sitting, in a box, with countless other nicknacks like him.

"Nah" He repeated. Sitting in a nearly barren dorm room. With two cardboard boxes, unpacked. "It sounds fucking dumb." He said, loudly. As All Might stared back at him.

"You sure?"

A figurine of the hero in his prime. Of the man, long before he'd met Katsuki. Before he'd even been born, probably.

Your fault.

"Yeah." Bakugou swallowed. "Don't give a shit, and I'm fucking tired. I'm going to bed."

"Oh!" Kirishima made a sound of suprise. "Oh- well... Okay man! hahaa," he laughed nervously through the door. Bakugou felt the curling feeling in his chest again. "Well, I'll uh, catch you later man. Sleep well!" The red head called through the door. Overly cheerfully.

"Fucking obviously. I do everything well, moron." Bakugou retorted. Keeping his voice gruff. Looking at the All Might trinkets in the box. How messily he'd packed them.

"haha, I know man," Kirishima's voice responded warmly. Through a door with no posters on it. Because those were all in the other box. "I'll see you tomorrow. Gnight!" He called. Voice becoming fainter- as footsteps began to walk away, down the corridor.

"...Night." Bakugou said back. Not loud enough to be heard, from where Kirishima had gotten to. His voice still seeming to bounce off the bare walls of the dorm room. A room that was startlingly empty, when it wasn't filled to brim with all things All Might.

Your fault.

...And soon enough, the footsteps were gone. To late on, be replaced with chatter, of 1A. Oggling at each and ever room, with gasps and whoops- and snarky comments. Each reaction more excited than the last. Hours later, the particularly indignant sounds coming from what sounded like the common room, indicated that the winner must have been announced. The 1A Room King.

...Bakugou didn't find out who it was. He didn't find out what the different rooms even looked like. He could only hear. As he hid the cardboard boxes under his bed. And didn't go to sleep.

80 notes · View notes

rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years

Text

The Revived - Chapter 18: Exceeding

This is chapter 18 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Sapnap, George

Word count: 3,121

Cw: Violence, getting shot, spiraling, pain, crying, tension between characters, brief discussions of lying

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Sapnap stood in the entryway of Tommy’s house, expecting an answer.

Wilbur smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. His voice remained passively cheery with something reserved behind it, “We were just having a talk. A private one.”

Sapnap took another step into the home, “I’m not leaving you here with him. You're looking super… off right now." Something was held back in Sapnap’s words.

Wilbur took a second to reflect on the moment. The moment wasn’t that abnormal by itself. He pulled a fun harmless prank with George and the two were simply chatting inside a vacant home. It wasn’t necessarily his fault George had too many attachments to his Dream and refused to tell him anything as a result. Wilbur growled out, "It's nothing that concerns you. Leave."

Sapnap kept his eyes centered on Wilbur. "George, come over here." Wilbur flickered his eyes back for a moment, seeing George try to side-step out of his way. His mind momentarily switched him with Tubbo as their actions mirrored each other. He wasn’t letting another person leave him. He wasn’t letting more information slip through his hands. He couldn’t afford it.

Wilbur harshly exhaled, “We just need to finish this up, then both of you can go do whatever." He really despised how difficult people could be. Simply blinded by a lack of understanding- one Wilbur shared- that was destructive if not properly taken care of.

And how Sapnap was a destructive fool. So easily swayed by his emotions. He pulled out a loaded crossbow, aiming it at Wilbur. His finger rested gently over the trigger, twitching occasionally. “Step the fuck away from him. Hands where I can see them.”

Annoyance filled Wilbur’s eyes. “Sapnap, don’t do anything rash. We can talk this out.” Wilbur gestured to the man in front of him, “I haven’t done a single thing wrong, isn’t that right, George?”

He looked back towards George, who immediately refused to meet Wilbur’s gaze. George was painting him as a villain. The one that cornered him until the heroic Sapnap came to save the day. The one that needed to be taken care of. The one that died to his own flaws. Heroes never died to their flaws. Heroes loaded a crossbow to protect the ‘innocent.’

Wasn’t Wilbur just as innocent himself? All he needed was answers to fix the mind of his. The one that insisted to be nicer and embrace the little parts of life. The child in his brain who could be removed if he simply knew a little more. Just a few more minutes of conversation and he would have all he ever needed. But with Sapnap present? He had to turn those minutes into quick moments that would pass before the man holding the crossbow even blinked.

He placed his hand firmly on George’s shoulder, slightly pushing him back into the wall. He didn’t even intend to. He didn’t apply much pressure. “George-” He was sharply cut off by the stabbing pain in his leg. He jumped onto the other leg to avoid the painful pressure as he was tackled down by someone he couldn’t see.

A punch hit him square in the jaw, landing on top of a bruise he received from Niki not too long ago. He hissed out in pain and tried to throw the person off of him. When he caught a second to look, it was Sapnap on him, but the moment it took to realize that, he whipped his head to the side after getting punched again.

He wiggled his arms from underneath him and weakly punched him back, unable to move his body into the motion. After more hits that made Wilbur almost dizzy, he knew he couldn’t play fair. He took his fingers and poked them into Sapnap’s eyes, making the man on top of him stop for a moment. Wilbur took the opportunity and punched him as hard as he could, flipping their position and making him on top.

He prepared to hit Sapnap again, not even thinking about why. All he knew was he was getting attacked, and he wasn’t going to be on the losing side of history. Just as he was going to hit the man under him, a blue blur pushed him off, Wilbur’s curled up fist connecting with George’s arm with half the force he aimed for Sapnap.

Still, he made a grunt from the impact and muttered something Wilbur couldn’t hear. George seemed to take a small, hesitant step away, but Sapnap didn’t follow suit as he rolled over and grabbed the collar of Wilbur's shirt. Sapnap must’ve pushed on the pulsing pain in his leg as he groaned from the dizzying sensation. Sapnap took it as his chance to hit Wilbur again. It didn’t just happen once, but Wilbur lost track. He just felt his head jerk back and forth and he closed his eyes from the pain.

When the punches stopped, he opened his eyes slightly. He saw George telling Sapnap something, holding his shoulders firmly. He felt like he could see Sapnap pulling against George’s pull with an anger in his eyes.

“He’s not worth it,” He heard George mumble.

Despite being on the floor and writhing in pain, he hissed out at George, “Fuck you.” He felt pain connect with his face once more. He laughed bitterly. The day was saved. The hero put the villain in his spot. He wouldn't do anything bad now. The innocent people could finally live in peace.

The peace that thrived off of the villain being put to a permanent retirement. The stories he heard from a young age painted it so simply. If only he could have a permanent rest. A permanent rest from this routine he lived in. Besides, everyone else needed a break from him anyway. Just a couple of days alive, and they already needed a break.

Sapnap got off of him. Kicking the place where the pain lay in his leg as Wilbur curled up. “Shit,” he whispered, barely able to acknowledge the people still in the room as the pain throbbed once more. He whimpered quietly to himself as he heard footsteps slowly grow fainter and fainter. There was a distinct sound of voices but he didn’t bother paying attention as he closed his eyes.

“-bur! Wilbur?! Please, please respond, Wil.” Panicked whispers filled his mind. “Oh no, oh no, he’s dead. What happens if he’s dead? Do I die and get put into limbo two: electric boogaloo? Does he get put in limbo? Oh no this is bad.”

A moment of silence was followed by a slightly calmer tone, “No trains coming. That’s good.” Ghostbur cried out in pain, “Wilbur, what did you do this time?” The question wasn’t meant directly to Wilbur, despite him being the subject of it.

Wilbur only managed a groan in response as Ghostbur excitedly gasped, “Wilbur! Can you hear me?”

Wilbur pushed himself up to where he was sitting up. His head spinned as he mumbled, “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“That’s great, because I’d like an explanation of everything that just happened. I thought you said George was your friend! And George didn’t even try to stop all of that. While I don’t think I’ve personally met him, he sounds a little rude.”

Wilbur tried to stand up but he cried out in pain along with Ghostbur at the sensation in his leg. He muttered, “Oh shit.”

“Language,” Ghostbur bitterly mentioned.

“I got shot with Sapnap’s crossbow.” He frankly should have connected the dots earlier, but he just assumed he got kicked really hard. The blood trickled down his leg, slightly staining his pants along the way.

“Oh! Okay… how- how do we fix this?”

“Prime, Ghostbur, I have no fucking clue.” Wilbur sighed quietly to himself, “I’m not cursing at you or anything. I’m just upset that all of it happened.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

The comment took Wilbur off-guard, “What did you say?”

“I said the feeling is mutual. Do you not know what that means? It means when-”

Wilbur cut him off, “I know what it means. I just- I really didn’t expect that out of you.” A light astonishment slipped into Wilbur’s voice.

Ghostbur sighed, “That doesn’t really matter right now. We need to focus on your- well I suppose it would be our- leg.”

Wilbur nodded vaguely. “Right. Okay step one…” Wilbur’s voice died as he tried to think of a vague-ish rule that would apply to any injury. “Get out of immediate danger.”

Ghostbur asked, “Is anyone with you?”

Wilbur shook his head, “It’s just you and me. And me and you. We got the whole place to ourselves.” Wilbur chuckled at the familiar jingle.

Ghostbur didn’t laugh though. His voice stayed firm in a way that frightened Wilbur more than Sapnap did. “What’s step two?”

Wilbur let out a shaky breath, “Um… assess the damage taken.” Wilbur thought for a moment, “There’s gonna be swelling in the face and eventual bruises. There’s also the arrow in my right calf. The injury is on the exterior, about the middle of the leg.” He slightly moved his leg closer, making him wince in pain in company to Ghostbur’s hiss. “It doesn’t seem too deep.”

“You’re doing good so far,” The praise sounded dull, as if it was just supposed to keep Wilbur busy as his mind ran. “Now step three.”

“I’m guessing that would be taking inventory on your medical aid and equipment. As far as medical aid, I-” It was quite pathetic to say that he didn’t have anyone, so he settled on an alternative, “I don’t think anyone is nearby to help.”

“We could go to someone and get help?”

Wilbur quickly feigned an excuse, “I don’t want Sapnap or George seeing me again.”

Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, “Good point.” He thought for a moment. “We can’t go to Tubbo or Ranboo either?”

“George or Sapnap might see me and I don’t want to risk going into the nether.”

Ghostbur frustratedly sighed, “So no one wants to help us.” It was stated so matter of factly that Wilbur almost agreed. Instead, he slid himself up one of Tommy’s walls, standing mostly on the leg that wasn’t injured.

Wilbur tried to sugar coat the situation the best he could, “I’m sure people want to. They’re just…” Only helping him out of pity. “Unavailable.”

“Sure. Alright, what supplies do you have?”

“I doubt I’d find much, most of the useful stuff Tommy had was transferred to Pogtopia.” Before Ghostbur could speak again, he added on, “Ghostie, are you alright?”

“It’s-” Ghostbur took a shaky breath, “You need medical attention. Focus on that first.”

“You’re just as important as I am,” Wilbur reassured.

Wilbur hated the silent response more than the arrow in his leg.

He restated, “You are just as important as me.”

The quiet voice filled his mind once more. It was hesitant and small compared to the pain that persisted in Wilbur’s head. He could hardly focus on the words themselves. "I'm not. I'm really not.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, "Woah, where is this coming from?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just don't feel happy right now." The voice lingered in a dull disappointment that stabbed Wilbur in the heart.

Wilbur pulled a cheery voice, "Uh, you can think about Friend?"

He expected a happy rant about the shade of his wool, or the time of day the little sheep ate. He couldn’t expect anything else out of the happy little ghost. He couldn’t expect Ghostbur’s actual answer. "But then I think about things I shouldn't."

"Like what?"

"I…” Ghostbur took a shaky breath, “I feel like you lied again. No- I know you did. I just don't like to think about it too much."

“I didn’t li-” Wilbur cut himself off at the realization that he promised Ghostbur they were going to see Friend. The talk was still fresh in his mind, remembering the exact part of the cobblestone bridge he was on along with how he shifted in his clothes uncomfortably. “Oh shi- shoot. Ghostie, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you that I didn't see Friend. I tried looking for him, but he wasn't at L'Manberg like last time."

Ghostbur bitterly laughed, "Do you really think that's all you've lied about?" Wilbur thought for a moment before Ghostbur continued, "I know I have memory problems from time to time. But I've been remembering things really clearly ever since you got revived. And nothing makes sense anymore. You said we would go to Tubbo, but now we can't. You- you said Tommy was coming back, but he never did. And- And you rarely tell me things anymore!" Ghostbur’s voice wavered with a saddened anger. It teetered in a way that made him sound like he was crying, "I thought you were my friend." Wilbur’s vision seemed to messily blur at the final words.

Somehow the ghost that loved everyone he met and named a sheep ‘Friend’ was against him.

One could easily look at Wilbur and see him in those history books. Slightly tint the photos of him a dark gray color or a crimson red if it was recent. State so loudly that no one could stand him. Source all the lives he ruined, and explain how Ghostbur should be in the overworld instead. Let the innocent person run free as the villain rots, cold and alone. Stuck in a train station. That was where Wilbur belonged.

While part of him thought he wasn’t the villain, he was just on the wrong side of history, he knew he was lying to himself, because the two were much the same. It was a habit he developed years ago. He had to believe the best would happen and it would come. So he tried to believe the best, his tone coming off as sarcastic and uncaring, "Oh, we totally are friends! Best friends forever, y'know?"

Ghostbur’s voice shook with such confidence and resentment, "A best friend would tell me things and stop the pain from constantly hurting." A melancholic gray filled his vision for a moment, before flickering away.

Wilbur shifted on his uninjured leg and hobbled towards the entrance of Tommy’s house. Ghostbur wanted to be told the perspective of the world. Simple. There was the wretched villain looking out of an abandoned home, squinting into sun, attempting to help a ghost trapped in his mind. Wilbur spoke in a hushed tone, “I can tell you things. There's an apple on the ground. It’s bright red-"

Ghostbur cut him off, his words rushed and eager to escape him, "Tell me the important things! The details about clouds and trees mean nothing if I'm in pain!"

Wilbur hummed in acknowledgement, “You’re right.” He hopped once more out of Tommy’s house, using the exterior of the wall to act as a support as he limped towards a familiar direction. The world was closing in on him, when he realized who he was once more. Wilbur Soot. Creator and destroyer of L’Manberg. The villain who had been slayed yet again. A repressed genius, who had been holding back for far too long. He let out a breath as he felt his entire being soaring towards the sky, out of the pain, and into the sky that belonged to him as much as his sunrise. “We’re- I’m going to Pogtopia.”

He heard sniffles echo through his mind accompanied by hisses of pains and quick apologies. It turned into white noise as he centered his mind on his throbbing leg, well- as he tried to center the pain there. His mind still ran, telling him about all the things he grinned at.

It felt nice to be above it all. He was simply a mastermind, a work of art that no one else understood. The walk was moderately quick, but peaceful. The adrenaline must have been kicking in as his limp lessened.

He coughed once, as he supported himself on the walls of Pogtopia. His hand ran over the buttons, and while he didn’t press them, he could hear them clicking faintly. They weren’t mocking him anymore, he thought. They were shaking underneath his grasp, and it sent a laugh through his body. “I’m here,” he said out loud.

“Great,” Ghostbur said sharply, though it was clear he had a hard time saying it.

He threw back his head a little, as if he was bored. “I’m not sure where they put the medical equipment.” He thought about his last trip to this place. “Ah, perhaps Tubbo brought it to that little bunker of his.” The name seemed to sting his tongue, but everything else stung him more, so it was hardly relevant.

“We…” Ghostbur tried with a shaky voice, “We’re not allowed to go in there without him. H- he said-”

“You were the one who said medical attention was the first priority,” Wilbur reminded the ghost, continuing to walk ahead. He received no response.

Whatever.

He remembered where the bunker was, fortunately. He soon found himself in there, and while it felt forbidden just before he walked inside, Wilbur never cared much about what he was supposed to do. The world wasn’t going to keep him down. He had been staying at the train station, with little to no light, and hours, days, years ticking ahead. He had let the comfort of tolerance, and connection that would be broken at the slightest misstep, overwhelm him. He had forgotten everything he had learned last time he was in Pogtopia. A silly little shell, who was far too easy to keep down. But Wilbur wasn’t anyone’s shell anymore.

He looked at the books and the little farms for food. One could stay there for months or longer, and remain perfectly intact. “Huh, I could do some reading while I’m down here,” he said.

“Please- please take…” Ghostbur’s voice wavered, though the next part came out harshly, “Please take care of the wounds.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I will.”

Ghostbur responded to that with a hiss of pain, but Wilbur barely noticed as he walked to the nearest chest to pick up some bandages. There was thankfully a potion of regeneration, and something that would disinfect the wound. He wished it was an instant health instead, or even just having more potions in general.

Regardless, he sat down on a chair, feeling the pain slightly more as his leg changed position. He looked at the arrow. “I’m going to remove the arrow now. Brace yourself I guess.”

Ghostbur held his breath, and Wilbur ripped it out with as much quick force as he could, knowing full well that it would be less painful to get it done quickly. “There we go.” His smile wavered for a moment, though he settled on the most confident expression he could muster. He’d done this countless times before. Ghostbur sobbed, and Wilbur huffed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ghostbur didn’t respond though. Instead, Wilbur heard the sound of muffled cries and whimpers echoing through his mind.

#the revived #c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #wilbur angst #revivebur #ghostbur #c!sapnap #c!georgenotfound #c!george #ghostbur angst #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fic #dmsp fic #dream smp fanfic #dsmp fanfic #i can't think of any more buzzwords so i think that's good

15 notes · View notes

whatgaviiformes · 3 years

Text

Firefly’s Glow 2/?

Part 1 | Part 2 You are Here

A/N: This chapter gave me a helluva time, but here ya go with the promised literal box that I almost scrapped. TW: Spiders - I’ve bolded the first two words that start and end that section if you’d like to skip. This should be the last of the main whumpy bits - I struggle a bit with that I think, but I have LOTS of ideas for the angst and H/C.

For @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 for the prompt :) and with thanks to @godsliltippy and @gumnut-logic for the support as I whined about this chapter, and then @bonsaiiiiiii who wanted a tag for more pocket!Gordon.

*Nervously sends out to the ether*

*****

Part 2

Gordon pressed his hands against the smooth glass.

“What is all this, Fuse?” Gordon asked, hoping his voice carried enough to be heard, though it echoed around the small containment. “What did he do to me? Are my brothers okay?”

Gordon was not expecting much of an answer, and it was rather obvious what happened to him. But the surprise in Fuse’s expression softened for a moment all the same, visible even through the distortion of the glass, and Gordon could recognize the conflict behind the silent pause.

“I shouldn’t be talking to ya,” Fuse said.

“Fuse. Please?”

“Mmm. They’re fine. He only captured you.” The bottle shook briefly under Fuse’s hand as he peered through it at Gordon’s hopeful expression. “Ah, shit, fine. Okay, so they’re coming. The Hood’s nervous – packing quickly.”

“Where are we?”

Fuse shook his head. That’s all Gordon was going to get. From afar, Gordon heard Havoc call her brother, and Gordon could see the momentary panic in the larger, obtrusive eye. The larger man hastily placed Gordon’s bottle back on the shelf and turned to answer her, even as Gordon pled for him to wait.

“Fuse! Don’t leave me here.”

But the man was gone. Gordon slammed his fists against the transparent walls of the makeshift prison with a frustrated growl, even as it gave the smallest of trembles under his hands. A little to close for comfort there. In his swift exit, Fuse had placed the vessel nearer the exposed side of the shelf – shifting off balance there would be a dangerous topple.

Okay, Gordo, time to regroup.

He’d still learned a few things. First – this wasn’t a main location and that explained the instability of his container if the intent was for it to be temporary. And he’d learned that his brothers were coming! That meant he wasn’t going to sit around and wait for the Hood to take him away to a new base or safe house. He needed to give his brothers the best chance of finding him.

One thing at a time. First, he needed to escape.

So no toppling out; how about toppling in? Gordon turned to investigate the new space his positioning afforded him. It would at least get him onto the shelf if he could put the right amount of pressure in the right place.

He carried with him a lot of important life lessons from his brothers. This one was from John: smacking the bottom was not actually the prime spot to get the ketchup out of a Heinz 57 glass bottle. And because it annoyed his older brother, he used to keep hitting the bottom anyway, even though he knew John was right. So, he would aim for where the 57 would be. His container wasn’t quite the same shape, but he could make a well-educated guess. He knew for sure that his reach was too low, so he’d need to jump.

Gordon gave his non-injured right foot a test bounce.

It wouldn’t be enough. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his left foot to the floor and launched himself upward to the imaginary 57 before he could think about the pain. His body collided with the opposite side of the container, and he started to slide back to the bottom even as the vessel tipped and then fell to its side with a delicate bounce against the wooden shelf, though it did not shatter.

Dazed, his breath came in gasps and fogged the glass below him.

Keep. Moving. Gordo.

He crawled his way to the opening and out, then stood.

There was little in this room that would give away that there was a prison below and that it was a hideout for the Hood and the Chaos Crew. Overlooking the space as he was now, it appeared to be a simple, lightly decorated lounge room with a mahogany coffee table in the center and a beige reclining couch across from him.

There was an empty cup on the coffee table, so this place at least seemed lived in. Behind him the wall was brick, even though the rest of the room was painted an off-white to complement the furniture. As he glanced over the side of the shelf, he saw that the dark stone extended all the way from the floor to the ceiling. The lingering scent of dusty wood smoke around the area told him his shelf was actually a fireplace, but the part he cared about was the stone. The cut was intentionally rough and uneven to give a rustic appearance to the inside of the home. He could climb down that.

The cold of the rock permeated his fingerless gloves where he dug his nails into a groove and swung his body to the left so his feet could find purchase on the ridges.

The descent was cautious and slow going without the safety net of a rope or a grapple or a spotter at his disposal. He felt the strain in his legs, his arms, his core, even his fingers, as he descended. Virgil – and he felt a pang in his chest thinking about him laughing that awful cackle – would be having a conniption fit if he knew what Gordon was attempting, especially with his ankle throbbing as it did.

He knew his position left him vulnerable, and as he approached the last few rocks before the floor, he was already planning his next move. He needed a rope – if he could get to the couch there was a blanket he could pull a thread from and repurpose. He also needed to hide. It depended on how close his brothers were.

Resources first? Hide first?

He never had the opportunity to decide.

“They’re here! Move!”

With an angry shuffle of feet, the floor vibrated, and though the stone held firm in Gordon’s capable hands, the shelf above him did not. The container, which he had so precisely calculated how to topple, finished its roll as it tumbled off the shelf into a free fall above him. Time moved quickly and ever so slowly all at once, Gordon’s terrified eyes wide as he followed its plunge toward the ground. And he couldn’t escape it, couldn’t move, couldn’t watch –

It shattered.

It landed beside him – too close - with a shower of glass that hurled shiny, translucent daggers into his hair as he ducked his face into the space between his arm and his chest in attempt to protect himself. But the accompanying sound of breaking glass hitting hardwood reverberated in a devastating banshee scream that consumed his body, and he fell stunned, his head spinning, his ears ringing, the soundwaves crippling him even as they coursed through him and carried his own screech aloft.

“Nice try.” Female. Havoc. He felt her grab him by his waist between her fingertips and raise him up. He blinked blearily at the blood that ran down his wrist, lacking the energy to fight or even look up at Havoc and Fuse at all.

“Is he ok?”

“Does it matter?” She fumbled to unlatch a box at her side. “We need to go.”

His vision started to clear enough for him to realize he was headed back into the darkness, and sure enough, the light disappeared once again with a definitive click of the latch somewhere above him.

~*~

The Earth deserved to be loved, appreciated, and respected – she gave live, she could take it away. But to be honest, the Universe was trying to kill him today. He was not sure what he did to upset her so much. After surviving in a cell for who knows how long, escaping the height of a fireplace, and then somehow managing to dodge an incursion of broken glass shards with only a few scratches up his arm, he knew he was either incredibly unlucky or quite lucky indeed (depending on how you spun it).

But this was getting ridiculous.

Spiders were not in his preferred field of study, but he knew enough to recognize the giant wolf spider, family Lycosoeidea, that shared his current space. It was the eye structure that gave it away. Two large black orbs dominated the hairy brown face, with four smaller eyes in a row below. Though he could only see a sliver of them from this angle below the creature, he knew there were two more medium-sized eyes above the main ones. Eight in total over three rows.

In any other situation, Gordon would have carefully captured her in a cup and taken her outside to feast on the pests there. Though wolf spiders would generally only bite humans when provoked, their venom could still be quite painful, and cause swelling and irritation. These, however, were not normal circumstances.

Here she was dangerous; half his size, but still giant. She was as much as prisoner as he was, and who knows how long she’d been in here without food. And worse, unlike their other arachnid cousins who relied on vibrations and movement to see, wolf spiders with their eight eyes could see quite well.

Hers were locked hungrily on him. At the bottom of her elongated jaw, two fangs pointed inward, poised to strike into Gordon’s sides. He had no human size to counter her venom; a bite would be his death.

He’d had enough of that already. And this time he had resources.

When Havoc released him into the box, he’d hit the contents of it hard, and everything was unsteady enough to jostle as she moved. Feeling around, a light was the first thing he found, small enough for him to hold in his arms and attached to a ring of a keychain. He was able to hit the power button with the palm of his hand. It would’ve been his thumb if he was the right size.

Next there was a pair of snips, which was about the same size as himself but clearly intended for delicate cutting based on the proportions of the dangerous edges and the grip.

A small, thin sewing pin there was as well, and a spool of wire. This was a portable diffuser kit for explosives, he realized.

Then, drawn by the light, came the eyes.

In the time it took for him to take stock of the tools around him, the world around them lurched again. He landed on his backside, and the spider was tossed to the other side of the kit. The movement gave him the extra seconds he needed to scramble for the sewing pin and to raise it upward like a rapier just in time to pierce the spider’s cephalothorax as she came down with a cry.

God, he felt that.

He shimmied out from under the creature with a wheeze, the world around him still sliding back and forth with Havoc’s run.

~*~

His heartrate settled, and he lugged the keychain light into his lap where he could easily reach the power button with his hands and started flickering morse code into the container walls, not even sure if the light would reach around the edges of the box.

Gordon had started by counting, but after a while all thought became the sporadic shifting of his dark world and the distorted CPR of his hands hitting the button, and he realized he had no idea how much time had passed since he was thrown into the box. Surely, they were long gone from the safe house by now.

Click Click Click.

Click.

Click Click Click.

The world shifted.

Click Click Click.

Click.

Click Click Click.

It shifted again.

Click Click Click.

Cli…

The world toppled, hurling him against firm metal as it spun away from the echo of Havoc’s groan.

He ducked his head between his knees, bracing for a crash landing that never came, though he felt the connection of the box landing in a new set of hands.

“What’s so important in here, I wonder?” He heard a voice say.

A voice that prompted all the adrenaline in his veins to dissipate in an instant, the voice of the clouds in the sky. Brother. Protection. Light flooded his chamber, and Gordon, covered in blood and ichor, wearily looked up at his much larger, cleaner, human-sized brother.

He stood up with a groan and brandished the sewing pin like a sword before sliding it to his side where he’d wrangled a piece of wire into a makeshift belt.

“Gord -?!”

“Hi, Scott.”

#Gavii Scribit #Firefly's Glow #Gordon Tracy #science!Gordon #half of the military!bros #thunderwhump #thunderangst #Gordon is having a really bad day

17 notes · View notes

kaleidoscopek9 · 3 years

Text

ALRIGHT-

I've had this list of headcannons just sitting in my notes app of my phone and I wanna put it somewhere so 👀

(These are heavily inspired by what I could gather from the skele boys in @bonelyheartsclub! I just threw in a few of my own.)

-----------*

Sans

- Does a LOT of stargazing and has quite a few space-themed knicknacks and clothes in his room. He's got a telescope too!

- Dad jokes. Any time is prime dad joke time. He's never let an opportunity slip past him.

- He's an absolute prank master. You're considered lucky if you happen to avoid the ones he's planted around the house like bombs waiting to go off.

- He's cryptic as fuck. Always giving half-true answers to every question. Occasionally he may slip up and give you a brutally honest response, but that's only with the people he trusts most, and he finds being open to be very difficult.

- He's constantly referencing memes and vine quotes from days of yore. He practically has a database of every meme ever in his head, and he doesnt let it go to waste.

- Cuddling with him is basically a one way ticket to nap-town, and you constantly find yourself waking up to him smooshed against you on the couch after dozing off. For being a skeleton, he is a surprisingly comfortable snuggler.

-----------*

Papyrus

-So much baking and cooking. It's his favorite past time, and the kitchen never smells the same when he's done making whatever he's making in there (it's 12 times out of 10 pasta) And while his cooking may be sub-par, you never say no when he asks you to try his latest dish.

- He's always up to go shopping with you. It never matters where. Malls are his favorite, especially the big grand ones with fountains and huge windows. He makes it a point to bring spare cash because you KNOW he's going to ride the mini marry-go-round even if he can barely fit in the seats.

- You two love to binge watch cooking channels. Always discussing which foods would be the most fun to make, writing down recipies, and having a hell of a time trying to pause the show at the right points to get all the information down.

- Papyrus is notorious for game nights. He's always pulling out boards and cards that you've never heard of before and never starts a game until he's absolutely certain you know the rules. Winning of course, is always his prime goal when it comes to games, but if he senses you're on a particularly rough losing streak, he MAY slip up. Occasionally. Just enough so you can win a game or two. Or five.

-----------*

Blue

- Hyper as all hell. You give him a reasonable dose of sugar or caffeine and he could power an entire city for a few hours without breaking a sweat.

- If he had been in high school, Blue would have been a theater kid. He's always humming a tune from a Broadway show or Disney movie, and he's got a pretty good collection of songs on his brother's Spotify playlist.

- This guy will blast Steven Universe music at full volume he has no shame.

- If you are ever driving somewhere with him, an aux cord is a MUST. Singing in the car is a very frequent thing with you two, and you'll only get out after the song is over.

- He likes cryptids! Mothman is his favorite and he firmly believes he exists somewhere.

- He's your workout buddy. If he manages to drag you to the gym with him, that is.

- Blue hates seeing you down in the dumps, and is always trying to cheer you up with his quirky puns and jokes to get you smiling again.

- He'd be the best motivational poster ever. Whenever he picks up that you're going through a rough spot and falling behind on self-care, he knows just what to say to put the spark back in you again.

-----------*

Stretch

- Radiates goblin energy.

- A goddamn meme lord.

- He's made two or three widely known viral videos and nobody knows it was him.

- You need someone to go to an anime convention with? Stretch is your guy. He's god awful at planning stuff out, but he'll make sure you both have a good time, no matter what happens.

- He's really big into nerd culture, and he DMs for a dungeons and dragons game every week.

- He'll occasionally smoke, but he doesnt have lungs, so he does it more for shits and giggles than anything else.

- As lazy as he seems, he is very reliable. If he knows it's something important to you, he'll get it done. Chores though, he's a lot more iffy with.

- He really likes bees.

-----------*

Red

- Talks big talk, but he's actually a huge softie.

- He's basically a big pillow with sharp teeth that can curse.

- A nervous wreck.

- His brother shops at Hot Topic. He shops at Spencer's. Very convenient.

- He's a pretty big flirt and throws out little compliments and things to butter you up from time to time.

- If you take Red into a Dave and Busters he will win the most expensive prize at the booth in about 2 hours. (He knows how to cheat at every single game)

- He's a competitive gamer, and has a pretty impressive following on Twitch.

- He can go from loud and brash to quiet and insecure in a matter of moments, depending on the situation.

- He loves to bake, although it's something he will never be caught dead doing.

- Comfort is not his strong suit, but he will defend you without a second thought.

- He can be a little clingy and will text you now and again to ask what you're up to, just to ease his mind.

-----------*

Boss

- Professionalism is his game.

- The walking embodiment of Hot Topic.

- He loves to listen to rock and screamo music. He's also got a thing for Disney villain songs.

- You need some punk biker or vampiric goth fashion advice? Boss got ya.

- Skellator Man.

- Out of all the skeletons, Boss has the biggest ego.

- He hates admitting he's wrong. He would rather DIE than admit he's fucked up something.

- "I am not nice-"

- He could kill a man with his high heels.

- If it's got spikes he'll probably wear it.

- Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsundere. Tsu

- Did I mention he's a cold blooded tsundere.

-----------*

Nox

- Small angery man.

- He listens to a lot of classic and instrumental music. He finds it very sophisticated.

- Wakes up obscenely early in the morning. Always followed by a cup of the most bitter coffee on the planet.

- Comes up with the best insults. He could roast someone so hard that they'd dissolve into a pile of soot. He could glare at you and you'd cease to exist. He's that good.

- WILL step on you without remorse.

- Threatens to kill someone on a daily basis.

- Very rarely has spare time for himself. He's always keeping busy doing something.

- Loves dark, dry humor. A child falling off a swing will have him laughing for a good five minutes.

- Has a stone cold poker face.

- He might have a softer side to him. You may never know because of the walls he's built up around him.

-----------*

Rus

- He absolutely adores animals. He volunteers at the local animal shelter and plans on adopting every single dog there.

- Rus has a massive sweet tooth. Donuts are his favorite, and you can easily bribe him with anything sugar coated.

- A road trip master. You put him in a camper and he knows exactly where he's going and what he's doing.

- "Going off grid, fuck yeah- I pull out my credit cards and shred 'em."

- Hiking, camping and geocaching are some of his favorite things to do. He loves to explore the wilderness and it's like he has a built-in compass for finding his way.

- His ideal date is going to a Wal-Mart and causing absolute chaos by riding bikes around and tossing all of the inflatable balls from their displays.

- Cryptidcore energy.

- Rus loves watching Buzzfeed Unsolved and ghost huntings. He's a big fan of Supernatural and Stranger Things, too.

- Stutters and slurs his words a lot. He's got some speech impediments from the gold canines in his mouth.

- A bit lacking when it comes to social skills, but he can be extremely caring and sweet.

-----------*

Ash

- Very soft-spoken and awkward. He doesn't get much social interaction and is still figuring some things out.

- He's very self-aware of the wound in his head. Whenever he has to leave the house he wears some sort of hat to cover it up.

- Practically lives in his garden. He understands plants more than he does human beings, and he spends time daily tending to whatever he's growing.

- Him and his brother are both vegetarians, and the smell or sight of meat makes them both feel sick to themselves.

- Has trouble sleeping due to his reoccurring nightmares. He will often sit in his garden late at night to help calm himself.

- Radiates soft energy. He would absolutely give the best hugs out of all the skeletons.

- Very touch-starved. Physical affection is something he rarely recieves, and he probably lingers with touches a lot longer than he should.

- Unintentionally makes God-teir jokes without realizing it.

----------*

Poplar

- Very well-educated in a lot of things. He really likes stocking up on useless factoids and making up his own just to mess with people.

- He answers Jeopardy questions with concerning accuracy.

- He enjoys going out to eat, and he's always up to try fancy foods.

- He likes photography and reading. He is well into the Harry Potter series.

- Poplar is prepared for anything at any time. A lot of stuff doesnt phase him at all, and it's difficult to catch him off-guard.

- He's willing to try anything new, once.

- Always willing to help out with schoolwork if he thinks you're seriously struggling with it.

- He's always carrying around small planners and notebooks to write in so he can keep track of things.

#long post #headcannons #hc #bhc #bhc headcannons #bonely hearts club #like i said #most of these are from the game #i just have a very specific image of these guys in my head and i wanted to put it down somewhere

39 notes · View notes

visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Okay but the song “only us” from dear Evan Hansen and it’s Wanda and Vision either in the avengers compound or Edinburgh when Vision asks Wanda to stay with him. It is also a very nice song and makes me want to cry (really love your WandaVision mixtape fic ive read it so many times already)

oh gosh you’re destroying my heart with this one. thank you so much for requesting! the song fits them so well. I hope you like where I took this prompt though it might not be what you had in mind. I went canon divergence from CW but still at the compound for some extra comfort.

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape Track #22: Only Us by Laura Dreyfuss, Ben Platt

Synopsis: The Sokovia Accords are renegotiated so that the team are never divided. Following the successful signing of the document a press event is held at the compound. Wanda and Vision take a moment to breath away from the crowds, both have been holding back from each other for months, worried about risking their friendship. A simple miscommunication leads to a brief moment of angst as they realise their months of pining over each other has been mutual.

(ft. months of yearning, sky dancing, Wanda scaring a journalist away from her man, being too worried about each other to realise you’re literally in love--- )

The new Avengers Compound was the ideal location for press events. It gave the team the opportunity to host things on their own terms, in their own space and with their own security team – primarily Friday holding down the Compound’s fortress of a security network, as she so often did. Not to mention the sleek marble floors and tasteful interior décor made for great photo opportunities. Vision understood the logic of hosting the press event following the successful renegotiating of the Sokovia Accords at their home, but it did not make it easier to bare.

He’d just managed to escape the crowded living room after being trapped for half an hour between various news microphones. Vision figured he’d be safe enough by the hors d’oeuvres table which seemed empty enough what with the majority of the team engaged in the living room. He took a moment to relish the silence, turning away and pretending for a moment that it was just a normal evening and that soon enough he could settle down to watch television with his friends and Wanda.

Wanda. Vision grew nervous, perhaps he should have stayed by her side. The press were notorious for asking her the harshest questions to get the scoop they wanted. He hoped that things would be different with the new version of the Accords and the momentary peace it granted between the state and his teammates, but these reporters were sharks and Wanda was far too good at grinning and bearing it. She’d smile at as many cameras and dodge the worst of question if it meant securing a good report of her teammates to the public.

Brows furrowed in concern, Vision turned to make his way back to the living room and check in on her but found himself face to face with a short, eager man. His recorder was held at the ready, but he seemed a little more hesitant than those Vision had past experience with.

“Mr Vision, I’m Jeremy from the New York Gazette, I don’t suppose you’d mind sparing some time for a few questions?” Behind Jeremy a photographer waited, holding her camera up expectantly. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Vision knew how important it was to make a good impression, so he forced a smile.

Back in the living room Wanda’s hands had grown twitchy from being clasped in front of her for so long. She worried that if she didn’t then she’d fold them, something that could make her appear guarded and judgemental. No matter how on edge she was about this whole situation, it was only one night, and she had promised to do her best to be as appealing as possible to the strangers crowding their living room.

So far, she had only been approached by two gutsy journalists who took turns asking her questions about her role in the negotiations and her view on the resulting document they had all signed into. Their questions had been remarkably tame, a more pleasant experience than she’d had in the past, that was for sure. But they’d quickly grown tired of her civil answers, and a small voice in Wanda’s brain told her they’d wanted her to cause a scene and give them something they could really write about. No matter, she’d undermine all their expectations.

In search of comfort, Wanda found herself looking around the room for Vision, she had lost sight of him early on when the journalists had been let in to mingle with her housemates. But Vision was nowhere to be found, and so she grew concerned. Suppose he had been cornered by a particularly nosy journalist? Wanda hated being asked questions about her role in Ultron’s uprising in Sokovia, or the sickening accident she had caused in Lagos, but what really had her grinding her teeth was when these sharks turned their hungry eyes on Vision. He was a prime target for an interesting scoop, and he was too often kind enough to entertain their advances, even, when their questions became inappropriate.

Vision had been her safety net these last few months, always there when she needed a quiet moment away from the world that was so insistent on unpacking every part of her and scrutinising whether she was allowed to wield her own powers. Months spent negotiating with official state representatives intent on disproving her right to exist often became overwhelming. It was in those moments that she sought Vision out.

Many a sleepless night had been spent together, watching sitcom reruns in the living room and falling asleep on the couch together. It began as a simple comfort. But after nearly two years of living with Vision, Wanda worried that she was in danger of being very much in love with him. It had been thrilling at first, then scary, and now the uncertainty between them was agony. They always stopped one step before the edge, so Wanda could never work out if her feelings were being reciprocated or if his affection was purely platonic.

Regardless of her complex feelings around him in that moment, she needed to be there for him as he always was for her. A break had appeared in the throng around her, and Wanda made a beeline for it, catching Steve’s gaze as she passed him. He gave her a nod and she smiled back to assure him that she was alright.

Next to the spacious living room was the dining room which had been cleared of dining table and chairs and was instead occupied by a long buffet table occupied with dozens of different canapés. Wanda thought most of it looked wildly unappealing, perhaps she and Vision could get late night takeout once this whole ordeal was over. Her cheeks warmed at the potential and she quickly schooled the giddy smile from her face.

As she had expected, Vision had been cornered by a journalist and to Wanda’s dismay, she recognised him immediately. Jeremy Coin – he’d written a fairly scathing piece on her involvement in Stark Industries, questioning if she, as a ‘weapon of mass-destruction’ could be trusted with the secrets behind the biggest technological conglomerate in the West. Of course, his carefully timed article had coincided with a big charity launch that she had aided in. Wanda had to step aside from the project at the last minute, lest her presence affect the donations. Aside from volunteering with the charity side of the corporation that Pepper had invited her into, Wanda could hardly be said to be in possession of any industry secrets.

It was fair to say that she was not particularly keen on the man.

“Jeremy,” Wanda said, coming to his side and placing a dangerous hand on the man’s arm, a little bit of his own medicine you might say. It did not go unnoticed, and Wanda took pleasure in the fear on his face as he stepped back. “So lovely to see you!”

“Miss Maximoff,” the short man said, trying for a smile as he pushed back his oily hair, “ever a pleasure.”

“Vis,” Wanda said, shifting her weight so she was nearer him. Vision’s eyes darted between the two, reading the sharp changes in body language. “You all ok here?”

His eyes softened at her reassuring smile and he nodded. “Of course, Mr Coin and I were just discussing some of the more pointed areas of the new Accords,” Vision gestured to Jeremy, “he had some very interesting questions on the relevance of human rights to the discussion of sentient AI.”

Wanda’s stomach dropped. Of course, the snake would have something to say regarding Vision’s humanity.

“Oh,” Wanda purred dangerously and turned on Jeremy, who was now visible sweating, “do elaborate.”

“It was nothing really,” Jeremy said raising a hand in defence. “Perhaps, inappropriate given the newness of this agreement.”

“Perhaps,” Vision said with a tight smile and Wanda took pride in the air of sarcasm he used. “We can finish this off with a photo, then?”

“Of course, of course.” Jeremy hurried to wave the photographer closer.

“Wanda, dear?”

Wanda started at the endearment, Vision had only used it when he was teasing her about this or that. Never before had he used it as genuinely as he did now, and certainly never in public. He extended his elbow to him and she took it instinctively.

The camera flashed once or twice, and Wanda did her best to smile without looking like too much of a lovestruck fool.

“Thank you for your time,” Jeremy said, hurrying to backpedal back to the main event still ongoing in the living room.

“You’re welcome,” Vision said tightly.

“I can’t wait to see your next piece,” Wanda said, unable to help herself.

Vision managed to wait until the man had made it around the corner, practically running away from her, before he started laughing.

“You mustn’t scare him like that,” Vision said quietly to her.

“It’s harmless,” Wanda said shrugging, “besides he was asking you rude questions.”

Vision’s laughter died and he grew more solemn.

“Come on,” Wanda said grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs. “We’ve done our parts for the evening.”

Vision tried to be reluctant about shirking his duty as Wanda lead him up to the roof, but he craved the alone time they spent together more than he cared about his responsibilities.

Vision loved the rooftop of the compound and had spent many evenings escaping the commotion within to stare at the stars above. This far from the city the constellations were remarkably visible.

The rooftop was often used as a space to wind down after particularly challenging days and so it was equipped with a sufficient number of fairy lights as well as a picnic table and barbeque set up. When they reached the rooftop Wanda dropped his arm, much to Vision’s dismay, and ran over to the picnic table where Bucky had left a small radio a few evenings prior. She stopped a foot away and pointed at it dramatically and the speaker crackled to life, music bursting forth. She turned it down a bit and then made to throw herself down in the middle of the courtyard of grass on the rooftop. They often lay there, side by side, Wanda pointed out it was the best way to watch the stars without getting a sore neck, but Vision just liked being able to see the wonder on her face.

This time however, Vision reached out and caught her hand.

“A dance, first?” Vision asked holding out his other hand. “As a thank you for coming to my rescue?” Wanda’s cheeks reddened at the invitation, but Vision was too focused on internally reprimanding himself for taking the selfish opportunity to get closer to notice.

Wordlessly, she accepted his hand and pulled herself closer. Vision’s chest constricted slightly as she slipped one hand over his shoulder, the other coming to rest lightly in his left hand.

“I don’t think I have ever danced like this,” Wanda murmured, this close she had to look up to meet his eyes and Vision grinned down at her.

“There’s a first time for everything.” He pulled her a little closer and took note of the challenge in her gaze as she tightened her grip on his hand.

They started slow, moving in time with the ballad playing over the radio. Wanda got the hang of the steps easily and Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had once thought to investigate simple step dances, precisely for an occasion such as this. If anything, he was the one stumbling, forgetting to count his steps owing to Wanda’s intent gaze never leaving his eyes.

When Vision started to float, Wanda joined him. A red mist surrounded the tips of their feet as they spun into the air. Wanda’s laugh was music to his ears as they kept tight grips on each other, and she sent them spinning around and around. The world below and around them fell away and Vision could only see her, the light of her smile and the happiness shining in her eyes. Never was he as happy as he was with her. What he would do to spend the rest of his life with her…

On Wanda’s cue Vision spun her away and she twisted gracefully upon her magic before returning to his embrace. Her back came to a rest at his chest with his arms around her waist as they swayed and slowly drifted to the ground.

Feet now flat on the ground, the gravity of his body returned, along with the gravity of the situation. Wanda turned slowly in his embrace and Vision froze, unable to move as she turned her eyes on him. He couldn’t help but mimic her body language and they both leaned in. He watched her eyes widen as they flitted desperately about his face and Vision stopped.

He turned his head sharply to the side and took several deep breaths. Dropping his hands from Wanda’s waist he hurriedly took a few steps back, worried of what he might do without the distance to separate them. She was his friend, his closest friend and he would not risk making things estranged simply because of the futile feelings captivating his normally rational mind.

“We ought to be getting back downstairs, Tony said they wanted a group photo at the end.” His voice didn’t sound right following the tense silence that stretched between them.

Wanda’s eyes had grown shadowed, and she turned away from him.

“Why must you do that?” Wanda asked and Vision started at the rawness in her voice.

“Why must I do what?” He asked, forcing his vocal cords to act.

“You start things, you get close and then you pull away from me again and again,” she said, and Vision was horrified to see her turn and reveal that her eyes were brimming with tears. “You are so straightforward with everythingelse! If you don’t want me that way, you just have to say it.” A hand came shakily to her mouth and she wrapped her arms around herself, turning away from him.

Vision was dumbstruck and stood like an idiot for a few moments while he tried to process what she had just said. In his silence Wanda kept talking. “It’s fine, clear as day, let’s just forget I said anything.” He watched her surreptitiously wiping at her eyes and rolling her shoulders back. How many times had he seen her do the same thing on the days when it was difficult to face the world? Never before had he thought he might become the source of her hurt.

“Wanda,” Vision reached out to catch her fingers as she tried to walk away from him, “how could you ever think I wouldn’twant you?”

She spun on him and snatched her hand away. “What do you mean?”

“Of course, I want you,” Vision said, his voice hitching in exasperation. “I just worry about my feelings ruining our friendship, I understand you don’t feel the same—”

As he babbled, hoping to mask his abrupt confession, Wanda stalked closer until they were nearly nose to nose.

“Hello,” Vision breathed, going cross-eyed now that she was before him.

Wanda laughed, an exasperated smile on her face in stark contrast with the tears she had almost shed moments ago. “We’re both fools.”

“We are?” Vision asked hesitantly.

She bit her lip and leant closer, her forehead brushing his. Her hands found his and it was as though little sparks danced between them as she trailed her fingertips up his palms. Vision shivered though he did not feel the cold.

“We’re trying to confess the same things here,” Wanda whispered but Vision’s eyes had shut, and he was desperately trying to hold onto his composure as her fingers made their way up his forearm.

“I—we are?”

He felt Wanda nod.

“Please don’t leave me to infer things, I’m clearly not very good at it,” Vision whispered, and he pressed his forehead to hers longingly.

“Then let me say it,” she said, her voice a whisper upon his cheek, “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.”

He was holding his breath.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Vision melted.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited—” but he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before Wanda was kissing him and the world was falling away.

It was months of anticipation paying off in one glorious moment and Vision felt sure that he was flying again. His hands came up to cup Wanda’s cheeks as they moved in sync. He finally drew back with a laugh and grinned as Wanda teased another kiss from him.

“All this time I was holding myself back, thinking you could never be interested in me, I worried I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you.” The truth flowed out in a rush now that he’d admitted to the secret he’d kept hidden the past long months.

“Oh Vis,” Wanda murmured, turning forlorn and raising a hand to his cheek. She made to continue but huffed in frustration as she searched for the right words. In the end she instead pressed her forehead to his, the mind stone flickering at the familiarity of her touch. And then a rush of emotion hit Vision as she started to project her feelings to him. It was something else to hear her tell him she was falling for him, but to feel that emotion coursing from her to him. Vision let loose a shuddering breath. Her longing, her worries, her fears. In return, Vision did his best to call forth the longing he felt for her, the burning love that was growing in his heart day in day out and pushed it her way.

Wanda laughed happily at this and drew back, her eyes shining. Vision nodded in understanding and turned his chin into her hand, kissing her palm tenderly.

“Let’s forget the dumb doubts, just forget all those irrational worries and let’s just—” Wanda shook her head happily, “just be us.”

In that moment Vision would have done anything she asked but he settled for a tender kiss. Wanda sighed wistfully into him and he trailed his arms down her back to hug her to him.

Wanda couldn’t recall when she had last felt this happy, but it went beyond your average joy, she was ecstatic. Every worry from earlier in the evening, her months spent agonising over his true feelings for her all fell away. It was impossible to not be lost in him, not when she finally had him where she wanted him. She drew her arms up over his shoulders and hugged him tightly, delighting in how perfectly their bodies matched, his chin coming to rest atop her head. The rest of the world fell away and reassembled itself around her, now reoriented with Vision at its centre.

“It’s just you and me,” Vision whispered in her ear.

“There’s nothing else in the world that I need.”

They stayed content in their own little world, not longing for anything except the shared comfort of each other’s warm embrace.

#wandavision #scarletvision #scarlet vision fanfiction #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #vision #wanda x vision #visionsofusfics #its all about the yearning #sweet sweet longing #bit nervous about posting this one #but I hope everyone likes it

10 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

To Tell You The Truth Part Six

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! This whole chapter is like. Fluff, with a sprinkle of healing. Prime indulgence hours. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Ezra displayed your battered helmet alongside his own on the mantelpiece above the faux fireplace, the two domes leaned into one another as if engaged in private conversation.

Most evenings found both of you in the main room of his modest apartment, him pacing back and forth as he recounted various portions of his 'semi-fictitious' memoir that were giving him trouble, while you drew and offered input where you hoped it might be beneficial.

"My editor, Kevva bless him, dares to insinuate that I am too ponderously wordy for the average book market." Ezra bemoaned one evening, dramatically collapsing into a sprawl of limbs on the couch alongside you. "'Get to the point, Ezra!' As if it is that simple, to just trim the fat off the prize cut of loin without regard for the flavor it provides!" He spat indignantly.

"You are very…" you searched through all the fanciful words you had picked up from him, finally settling on, "verbose. Almost to a fault. Sometimes I wonder if you're deliberately taking three times as long to say something."

"If I am to be prolific with my speech, I would rather be saying somethin' that people are interested in listenin' to." Ezra retorted, sounding somewhat betrayed over you taking his editor's side. "I've endured countless lectures from individuals with some form of power over me and none of them possessed a modicum of eloquence. Their words were weapons of the bluntest sort: hackneyed and ramshackle and detestable." His voice dipped lower, gravelly and reverent. "I would rather a singular articulate quote to a thousand plain, lifeless, uninventive platitudes. Words are all I've ever had for most of my existence, gentle soul. They are a precious commodity gleaned not from the treacherous climes of some deadly moon, but from the stolen tomes and salvaged papers of civilization long past."

He rubbed his temples, obviously exasperated. You, on the other hand, were a bit flushed. His rants were always a joy to witness, whether you wanted to admit it or not. There was something about Ezra getting riled up that you found mesmerizing.

"I apologize, gentle soul. You are not here to be my sounding board, and I shall not treat you as such." He said finally, dragging his hands down his face. "I will not subject you to my bouts of tempestuous querulousness."

"Hey, you can talk to me all you want! I just wish I could contribute usefully to your musing, that's all. I'm not nearly as well-spoken, I'd hate to use a word wrong." You replied, grimacing. "Like querulous...querulousness."

"It means I am peeved. Cantankerous."

"You?" You gasped in mock-surprise.

He groaned, "I did not realize how astute you were." You spotted the corner of his mouth twitching upwards and you knew you had him, nudging your elbow into his side until he surrendered and gave you a lazy grin.

"Ezra, what does 'mercado' mean?"

He jerked upright out of his slump at that, looking confused. "Where did you hear that word?"

"From...you?" You replied uncertainly. "It was while we were still...um, in the tent, I had just finished with your arm and you were looking through my sketchbook." His blank stare prompted you to continue, "you saw a picture I drew of the west dock and you-"

"Oh!" Ezra gasped, his eyes brightening with comprehension. He bounded off the couch, vanishing into his room. You sat there, wholly bewildered, until he reemerged struggling into his coat. He seized your hands, tugging you upright and then kissing your forehead. "You precious, beautiful woman!" He praised. "I am so glad you reminded me of our blood pact, sworn over the battered salvage of my arm on that accursed moon."

"Uh." Precious. Beautiful. "Blood...pact?"

"Hurry up, hurry up, put on your coat!" Ezra demanded. You imagined you could see his blond streak fairly bristling with excitement. "We must go."

"Go?"

"To the mercado!" Again with that gratuitous, flamboyant roll of the 'r'. You were beginning to suspect that he was enjoying himself.

"What, now?" You asked, allowing yourself to be essentially spun into your long coat. "But it's dark out-"

"All the more reason to rush! If we aren't expedient, they may be closed when we get there!" He grabbed your hand once again. "Kevva waits for no man, gentle soul!"

...

You had never run the length of the Pug's west dock without some incredibly valid, logical reason. So the fact that you were currently running because you were being giddily dragged along by a large man who was far too invested in deep fried food spoke volumes toward the sheer amount of the things that had changed in your life.

"Wait, wait-" You finally had to stop him, your side aching from your haphazard sprint. Ezra halted, appearing confused as you wheezed for air. You clung to his hand a bit tighter than you meant to.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"C-Can't-" you gasped. "Hurts. Gimme' a second."

"I--oh. Oh! Gentle soul, why didn't you voice your discomfort earlier?!" He erupted in a panic. "Sit down, sit, I'll-"

"No no, I'm okay. It's just a stitch." You tried to calm him, but he was having none of it.

"I must insist that you sit down, immediately." He implored, sounding distraught. "If I have caused you harm, if your wound-"

"Hey, I'm okay." You interrupted him firmly. "I'm just a little less...in-shape, you know? Tender still."

"I feel like a tyrant, I offer my most sincere reparations."

"Ezra, oh my gods. You're so dramatic." You half-laughed, your breath catching when he kissed your knuckles in contrition. "We can keep going, I just can't run across the entire dock."

"If you are certain, gentle soul?" Ezra asked, gesturing back the way you came and arching his brows. "We can always jettison this fanciful excursion, should you require a reprieve."

You shook your head, tugging on his hand. "Nope, we're already down here. Keep one foot moving. If we get there and they're closed, then I'll need a reprieve. To mourn my loss."

"Too true!" He agreed, mindfully shortening his strides. "It's not far now. Once we arrive, promise me you'll rest?"

"If you feed me, absolutely." You joked.

"I would love nothin' more than the opportunity to dote upon you, gentle soul."

You laughed for real this time, assuming he was playing along with your jibe. When he didn't join in, you tucked your chin down into the collar of your jacket in embarrassment. "Ezra, you...you take care of me all the time." You pointed out, feeling shy of all things.

"You are my partner." He answered simply.

Partner. "I...Damon, h-he-" You began to speak, but then choked off at the last second.

Ezra stopped dead and you closed your eyes, scolding yourself for starting something you knew you wouldn't finish. "Martyr's malfeasance." The brown-haired man cursed softly.

"I'm...I'm sorry," you hurried to apologize. "I don't know why I...just forget I said anything, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the fun."

"Every time I hear about him, he strikes me more and more as a man that I should have taken my sweet time disposin' of." Ezra snarled in that furiously cheery tone, his words stoking the tiny fire that you sheltered in your stomach.

Your grip on his hand tightened after a moment. "He didn't deserve the effort."

"Do not apologize for the shortcomings of others, gentle soul. I reiterate that I am here to listen if you need me. Though I warn you, I may not be able to keep from interruptin'." Ezra's eyes had gone dark with thought, his expression distressingly grim. "I am, at the end of the day, a loquacious fool." He perked up after a moment, pausing in front of a brightly-lit open air market. "Ah, and here we are! It appears that luck is with us, gentle soul, they do not close for another hour. Shall we fulfill our pact?"

The rest of your evening out was spent (intentionally or not, though you had your suspicions) effectively chasing off the shadow that recalling Damon had cast over you. Despite your protests, Ezra did end up feeding you half an order's worth of the delectable little sopaipillas, one by one.

...

When the rainy season hit, storms whipped through Puggart Bench and its wards with all the delicacy of a green prospector getting their hands on their first pull. It wasn't so much of an issue during the day; the sound of Ezra diligently expounding to himself usually muffled the howling winds or pouring rain. Late at night however, you couldn't help but imagine that the rumble of thunder was the pod striking the atmosphere, or that the rattling of the rain on the windowpanes was thrower fire. Your dreams turned frantic and riddled with nightmares. You even tried keeping your bedroom light on at one point to combat it, but it just amplified the shadows and gave your mind more fuel for its inventive fire.

You struggled in solitude for a good few nights, until one evening when you finally couldn't endure any longer. Surely he wouldn't mind, you would be quiet.

You slipped from your bed, bringing your pillow along as you padded down the hall to his room. Just as you reached for the keypad, the door slid open.

Ezra stood in front of you, a thin blanket and one of his pillows underneath his arm. He stared down at you. You stared up at him, your own pillow clutched tightly to your chest. "I..." he coughed awkwardly. "Er, the howling gale outside has...my nerves a bit...frayed. I merely-"

"Oh thank gods, I'm so glad it wasn't just me." You felt like you would burst with relief. "I was coming to ask if I could sleep in your room."

"What a novel coincidence! I was about to throw myself upon your mercies as well." Ezra winced at the thunder that boomed overhead after he spoke. "An expedient compromise is in order, gentle soul. We will adjourn to my quarters for this particular endeavor."

He stepped aside with a little bow and you entered the room, going to curl up on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Gentle soul, I think you've done enough proverbial listenin' at the teacher's feet to last a lifetime. Make yourself comfortable." He urged, spreading his blanket back out on the bed. "If we must weather this storm in conjunction, I would prefer you were nearer rather than farther."

You opened your mouth to protest and the wind whipped the rain against the windows with a hollow rattle, sounding for all the world like a thrower shot at range. Your fists clenched on your thighs.

Damon isn't here. It's just Ezra. It's only Ezra.

Ezra turned to face you after meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles in his blanket, his forced smile and hollow eyes reminding you that you weren't the only one haunted by ghosts of your past. He extended a hand and you grabbed hold, letting him pull you up off the floor.

You fell into him, burying your face in his chest for a selfish moment. "Thank you." You whispered, uncertain if he even heard you over the rumble of thunder.

Ezra pressed his lips to your hairline and then ushered you underneath the blankets. He was achingly chaste, as though he thought you might bolt if he showed any sort of blatant affection. Truly, you might have if it had been any other person. His tentative touch rested on your wrist for a moment before he laced his fingers together with yours.

"Your proximity is a balm to my troubled thoughts, gentle soul." He murmured. "You turn my mind to poetic wanderings; dalliances in sun-dappled clearings, rain that does not make me fear for my life." Ezra sighed, the noise barely audible. "All too often I am back there in my dreams; suffering mutiny, I am left to decompose until a gentle soul comes and pulls me up out of the weeds."

"I have nightmares about Damon." You confessed softly.

The grip he had on your fingers tightened ever so slightly. "I said I would not ask, and I will not tarnish that promise. I am here, gentle soul." His eyes searched your own, forehead furrowed with concern. "I have never trusted someone as I trust you. I have never...you fought alongside me, you placed your life in my hands, despite-" He paused, swallowing thickly. "You have earned all the time you might ever need. If it is mine to give, it is already yours."

His words, unwavering and slow, were what pushed you over the edge. In a voice that trembled and eventually broke, you finally told him everything. You held nothing in reserve, the terrible stories of all those nights in the pod tumbling out of you one after the other. You were so tired of carrying everything in silence, and talking about it...it was as though it made it all real. Tangible. Something that you could finally release.

Ezra was surprisingly still through the whole endeavor, the normally-animated man obviously reining himself in. The only indication of his own mental state was the way he occasionally rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you spoke about particularly trying instances.

"So this is the explanation." He said hoarsely once you lapsed into silence once more. "This is the trauma that you bear upon your precious, gentle soul. I...You've held it so tightly for so long, even though it wounds you. What has changed?"

"I found you." You replied bluntly. It was nonsensically simple to say, but it was true. He inhaled sharply. "You could have killed me, but instead-"

"I couldn't have." Ezra denied, shaking his head. "I saw you and while I knew I could play the part of the villain, I couldn't have...I wouldn't do anythin' to you. If not simply because you didn't slaughter me where I stood, then when you told me you had that kit and you almost broke my jaw after I startled you." He worked his jaw for a moment, like he still felt the echo of your head slamming into it. "And that man, the Sader, tryin' to tempt me into tradin' you in like livestock…"

"Because of everything that happened to me before, I...I panicked. I shouldn't have. I should have trusted you."

Ezra shook his head. "You had every right. I apologize for makin' you feel as though I would have accepted that pittance. I should have discussed everythin' with you beforehand." Lightning flashed nearby and thunder boomed, making you flinch sharply. Ezra urged you closer, his ragged shirt pressing to your cheek as you hid your face in his chest. "Martyr's malfeasance, your tenderness carves the heart out of me." He whispered. "You make me wish I was a reputable individual."

You started to apologize and he waved it off, stroking the back of your head and lulling you to sleep.

Despite the comfort his proximity brought you, the nightmares still came. You woke up panicking, as you often did, struggling away from the grip of the man beside you. He grunted and reached out to switch on the bedside table lamp. Ezra. It was just Ezra. You scolded yourself for your reaction, beginning to apologize again. But he simply rolled over and pressed his forehead to yours, humming in his throat sleepily.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt as you slowly relaxed against him and he mumbled, "In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn," brown eyes already half-lidded again. He sounded like he was reciting something, the words slurred with exhaustion, "In my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight."

You closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and letting it soothe you back into a doze.

"For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you…"

…

His right hand had some minor nerve damage, which was to be expected. The infection had crept deep. You noticed a distinct lack of buttons on a majority of his new clothing, zipper pulls apparently easier to operate left-handed.

As the storms grew worse though, so too did his hand. It would occasionally seize up in bad weather, which unfortunately was all the time during the rainy season. Ezra was thoroughly miserable, though he attempted to hide it. The rapid progress on editing his memoir slowed to a grinding crawl as he pecked away one-handed, keeping his right secured in a brace for most of the time.

"Kevva damn it." He swore one grey morning, struggling fiercely with the tie around his neck. He was supposed to meet with his publisher and he always tried to dress the part.

"Hey," You yawned from the kitchen doorway, "you okay?"

"Gentle soul I must beg your assistance, I will be late!" Ezra pleaded from the bathroom, his tone distressed.

You left your mug on the counter, stifling another yawn as you slipped into the bathroom and batted his hands away from his neck. "Hold still." You mumbled, barely awake. His fingers dug into the sink on either side of you as you worked. When you glanced up you saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears, his gaze fixed determinedly on his own reflection in the mirror. "It's okay to be upset, you know."

His jaw worked and he swallowed hard, obviously disagreeing but unable to vocalize it.

"I got it. All done." You soothed, patting the knot flat. "You won't be late. Be sure to check your fly." His eyes widened in panic and his hands flew to his zipper, making you burst out laughing. "Not now, Ezra! When you get there!" You grinned, playfully bumping your knuckles into his stomach just above his belt.

Ezra's chuckle was a little watery, but you chose to ignore it to let him think he was saving face. "What would I do without you, gentle soul? Wander the streets half-dressed with my placket splayed, I imagine." He mused, pressing a fond kiss to your forehead. "Now, Kevva waits. I will return presently. I believe it would be prudent for you to begin amassin' your sketches. We seem to be in the final stages of pre-production."

"Isn't it exciting?" You asked brightly.

"I am nervous enough to void my stomach." Ezra admitted. He squeezed your hand tightly. "I wish you could come with me, gentle soul. You make me feel at ease."

"You should have woken me up earlier, then!"

"You would have come with me?" He sounded surprised, running his hands through his unruly hair in an effort to smooth it down. "These meetings are so toilsome. At least if you were there, my publisher might spare me his tedious lectures." His blond streak sprang back up once his hands had passed, continuing its perennial goal of sticking out at a rakish angle.

You reached up to gently tug on the unruly little tuft of hair, smiling at him. "Suffering is no fun if you're doing it alone."

"Misery does indeed love its company." He sighed, his hand shifting up to cup your own on his temple. "These hands of yours, I..." he paused, grimacing in pain and flexing his own fingers. "Dammit, I…"

"I'll be here when you get back." You said simply. "Just like any other day."

Ezra's eyes were dark with thought as he stared down at you, the silence stretching almost uncomfortably long. "I...of course. Yes." He replied, his voice quiet.

You weren't expecting the call from him several hours later. You were just tucking into your lunch when your headset began to chime and you scrambled across the kitchen to grab it. "Yes, oh esteemed roommate?" You greeted him in the usual manner, smiling even though he couldn't see you.

"Gentle soul, are you busy?"

You stared longingly at your lunch. "I was about to eat. What's up?"

"He wants to see your sketches."

Your heart dropped. You weren't sure why, it wasn't as if you hadn't anticipated needing to have your own work checked over. Deep down you had hoped they would have more important things to consider, but it couldn't be helped. "What, now?"

Ezra's words were strangely clipped, so different from his usual flowery speech. "I'll be returnin' shortly, if you're amenable?"

"Absolutely, absolutely. I'll get...I'll gather everything up." You hurriedly put your plate back into the cooler. "Are you okay?"

"He has been more abrasive than usual, but I anticipated as much." He sighed raggedly and you heard the sound of the starter. "I've been out of sorts since this mornin'." He confessed. "I am uncertain as to why. Perhaps it's simply the weight of my own mortality catchin' up to me."

Your hands stilled in the process of shoving all your hard copies together. "Ezra, did something happen?"

"Nothin' aside from my immaculate personage being stained with impotence in the most mundane task imaginable." Ezra griped.

"Don't scare me like that." You scolded him. "I understand you're upset, but please don't use words like mortality. Gets me nervous."

"Fear not, gentle soul. I'll plague you for a good few years yet." He teased. "I am simply mourning the loss of a certain autonomy. The rain will not last forever, but while it lingers I imagine my moods shall be as grim as a graveyard."

"You'll have to try harder than that, you...poetically dour thing, you." You retorted dryly, shoving your hard copies into your unused portfolio. His laughter was loud in your ear. You loved when he laughed like that, all bright and startled like you had surprised it out of him.

You loved a lot of things about him, if you were being honest.

…

His publisher was a man named Thomas Anglio. He was in his late fifties, purportedly had no sense of humor and wore suits that were immaculately tailored.

The man's lack of humor was probably due to the stress of his job, you reasoned charitably. Managing so many aspiring authors couldn't be an easy feat, especially when he also had to juggle a certain querulous someone. At least you knew Ezra was paying him generously.

The secretary waved Ezra on tiredly, already reaching for the next Serv tablet before he was even done signing the both of you in.

You trailed along behind him as he strode into Mr. Anglio's office, the dark-haired man the picture of easy confidence. "I present my illustrious, illustrative companion." Ezra introduced you grandly as Mr. Anglio rose from behind his desk. "Gentle soul, this is Mister Thomas Anglio, a stalwart friend and a fiercely fashionable silver fox."

"You flatter me, Ezra." Thomas sighed, shaking your hand. "Please, take a seat and show me what you have prepared."

You obliged nervously, your hands trembling slightly as you undid your first bundle of sketches. "I believe what Ezra wanted was to have them sort of...scattered through the book at key points. Headers for each chapter, as well." You spread the pages out on the desk and Thomas leaned forward to examine them.

"Ezra, you are not writing a children's book." He pointed out practically. "The subject matter of this...strangely-realistic fiction of yours is decidedly adult."

"I am wholly convinced that my tale will not be half as impactful without their sketches, Mr. Anglio." Ezra insisted firmly.

Thomas groaned, rubbing his temples. "At least I know you're not doing this just to pad the final page count." He settled back in his chair, leafing through the piles of sketches. You had tried to separate them out by chapter, though due to Ezra's constant revisions you were certain some of them were out of place. "You understand we will not be using all of these, correct?" Anglio seemed relieved when you nodded hurriedly.

"I thought it would be better to have too many than too few." You explained quietly.

"You have quite the knack for drawing." He mused, lingering on one stack in particular. "Your portraits of Ezra are remarkable."

You heard Ezra swallow loudly beside you. "Portraits…?" The former prospector echoed tentatively.

Your brain ran back to you scrambling to collect all your sketches, shutting your eyes in silent panic as you realized you must have shuffled in the extra ones you hadn't meant to bring along.

"Yes, these appear to be for the portion of the story where our brave hero barters with a mercenary gang for safe passage off the moon. If I'm recalling correctly, of course." Mr. Anglio slid the pile of sketches to Ezra, who snatched them up immediately.

You saw his brown eyes go wide and you quickly ducked your head, busying yourself with pretending to sort through the groups of sketches. This was what you got for being disorganized! There were only supposed to be one or two from that scene!

The rest of the meeting was spent whittling down the groups of sketches to two per chapter, or three if they were small enough. Thomas also politely requested that you retool a few things, "this woman's helmet looks dangerously close to that inquisitor's from the Second Illumination. The last thing any of us want is to be sued by a failed monarchy."

You would say that the meeting went well, but you were so busy dreading being alone with Ezra again that it was all a blur. You just knew that your copious amounts of sketches focused on him would be subject to thorough questioning. And well they should be, it was borderline obsessive.

The jut of his jaw, the strong profile of his aquiline nose, the streak of blond above his right temple...all lovingly captured time and again. With and without the helmet.

You were certain you would be lucky to escape unscathed, waiting in fear for the proverbial pot to boil over.

...

"All you needed to do was ask, gentle soul." Ezra finally drawled after watching you anxiously wring your hands for the majority of the ride back to Ward Twenty-Seven. "Had I known that you wished so fervently to render me artistically, I would have happily sat for hours that you might properly capture my magnanimous visage."

"Please, please don't be upset." You begged, your fists tight in your lap. "I'll move out, okay? I'll leave and...and you'll never have to see me again. I'll send you the revised story sketches over the Serv, I'll-" His hand reached for your leg over the center console and you almost jumped out of your skin. "Wait, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't-"

"Gentle soul, I am not aggrieved in the slightest." Ezra assured you quietly. "Breathe. You seem ready to go to pieces." He rubbed your thigh soothingly, back and forth. "Breathe."

"You...you're not angry with me?" You asked tentatively. And really, you ought to have established that from your time in the Green!

Angered Ezra was a looming thundercloud, he was magma barely contained by fragile crust. His fury, though an absolute force of nature, dissipated as soon as it arrived, like the outbursts wearied him too much to perpetuate and maintain. Damon had seethed and resurrected his anger whenever the mood struck him, so it was odd to engage with someone who seemed to deem the emotion more trouble than it was worth. You knew that the man currently in the driver's seat was a hundred times more likely to launch into a woebegone soliloquy about how tenuous material possessions were if he spilled tea on his shirt. But old habits died hard; you couldn't seem to keep yourself from getting wound up.

"Far from it! You capture my countenance in a way that is decidedly more flatterin' than any mirror." Ezra tilted his head. "I am...envious of the man you have drawn." He admitted softly. "I wish that he and I were one and the same."

You weren't quite sure what to say. At least he wasn't angry. Or he said he wasn't. If anything, he sounded...sad. "What do you mean?" You asked, your brow furrowed as you recalled what he had said the night you shared his bed.

You make me wish I was a reputable individual.

Ezra shrugged, sighing, "Nothin' at all, gentle soul. The rain is just makin' me morose, I'm afraid. I'll be glad to be home again."

Home.

"Want me to make some tea when we get home?"

The soft smile he directed your way had no business settling in your stomach the way that it did. "Of course! You are somehow better at makin' it than I, a true conundrum considering how long I toiled away to achieve my technique."

You almost didn't notice when his hand cautiously returned to your thigh.

Almost.

Part Seven

164 notes · View notes

samwrights · 4 years

Note

Literally so happy I found your blog 😭😍 you’re such an eloquent writer and you seem so chill!! Love your content and your personality 🤍🤍🤍 If you still have the time, can you write more poly stuff? 😗😗😗 preferably with Kuroo and Bokuto after the same girl.. I just imagine them as besties in their respective careers in their 20s, in their sexual prime(slight fuckboys lol), and then BAM. Reader who’s a bad bihh comes in and effs up their life and they now have to share 🤤🤤🤤

oh my gosh this ask has all of my favorite things in one omfg i’M SCREAMING. eloquent though, at the moment, makes me chuckle because I’ve wrote the word COCK like a hundred times today. Not that I’m complaining 😏

I am ALWAYS down for more threesomes/poly requests! Especially with these two clowns, oof lemme at em.

Surprisingly, this one is NOT nsfw. This ones more on the sweet side, if there is a sweet side to fuck boys?

It was such a cliche—two roommates just hanging out at the bar looking for a target for the evening. Not that it bothered either of them, really, but considering they frequented this place so much, Bokuto and Kuroo have nearly fucked everyone in this goddamn bar.

Shit was getting old.

Sure, old hookups came and said hi, trying to hopefully get lucky for the evening, but they were both just looking for something fresh. Maybe they had come too early, Kuroo wonders, only seeing a few faces he didn’t recognize. “Need another?” An unfamiliar voice causes the former Nekoma captain to direct his attention towards the bartender standing before the two of them.

Fresh blood, he notes, as you put your weight on your palms that are resting on the bar top.

“Never seen you here before!” Bokuto chirps brightly first, dazzling smile and all as he pushes his empty beer bottle towards her before making a side-eyed glance. His telepathic link to his best friend beside him tells him one thing—he’s gonna go for her.

“I’m actually the morning bartender. I’m just filling in for someone.” Your tone is thoughtful as you grab another local craft bottle for the silver haired man that spoke. Reaching for the bottle opener secured to your forearm with a wristband, you snap the cap off. “Name’s [name], nice to meet ya.”

“Bokuto Koutarou.” The silver haired one replies before taking a swig off the IPA.

“Kuroo Tetsurou.” Comes from the messy, raven haired man beside him. “And I’ll take a round of shots—walker, blue label.” Ritzy, you muse. They must have been celebrating something. You grab two shot glasses before reaching for the top shelf for the bottle of Johnny Walker. “A round, sweetheart. One for you too.”

“I like you guys already.” You joke, grabbing one more glass and pouring shots for the three of you. “Cheers!” The men before you hold their own respective glasses, clinking them to each other as they touched and downing the whisky.

“To the start of a beautiful friendship.” Kuroo declares as he sets his glass down on the makeshift granite.

A beautiful friendship indeed.

Being around Kuroo and Bokuto was so easy. Especially after six months of casual hangouts. They were fun and lively, a little dorky in their own ways, but you often found yourself in their company in your free time. Sometimes, you’d just hang out with them in their apartment playing video games and watching movies. Other nights, the three of you would venture out to either end up at some sort of club or karaoke bar together. You fit right in with them when you learned they were often on the prowl for the best hookup because you were in dire need of the same.

Tonight was a night the three of you were out at a club—the music overtaking your own heartbeat as you’re sandwiched between your two friends and your inhibitions left at the door. Unbeknownst to you, the two of them are toying with their psychic connection once again, silently asking the other if they today was going to be the day.

The current remix ends, a mute signal for Kuroo to flee to grab the three of you your next around of drinks. Meanwhile, Bokuto takes the opportunity to anchor his hands on your hips, grinding your ass against his pelvis while his lips graze your sensitive neck. His tongue grazes along the shell of your ear and you can hear the way his breath is thick with lust, even as Kuroo returns.

Shame floods your body because there’s no reason your friend should ever see his roommate holding you the way he is. But rather than any reaction at all, he hands Bokuto his own beverage. Over the music, you can hear Kuroo as he leans in towards the both of you. “You gonna share, or what?” Bokuto only grins before allowing his teeth to graze along your pulse in your neck before handing you off to Kuroo as if you were some toy. “Have you figured it out, princess?”

What the fuck?

Your eyes snap towards the raven-haired man who has one set of fingers digging into your bare midriff while his hazel eyes fuse with a darker hue. He can see the confusion in your face, even more so when you look at Bokuto who’s only grinning like an idiot. “Come on, man we should tell her.” Though his voice is thoughtful, even over the resonating thrum of the bass in the club, you can hear Bokuto clear as day.

“Tell me what?”

“We want to fuck you.” Kuroo’s voice is so cocky, it’s almost a little neauseating. If nauseating were synonymous with ‘domineeringly attractive’, then yes, definitely nauseating.

“I mean, we kinda want more than that,” Bokuto adds sheepishly.

“I don’t feel like this is the place to talk about all this, man.” Your mind is in a whirldwind and you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact that your two friends you’d met half a year ago are proposing...something? What the fuck was happening? Kuroo slams the rest of his beer, encouraging the both of you to chug as well. Following suit, you’re tugged along towards the exit until the pounding music is a faint murmur in the background.

“This is a joke, right? There’s no way—“

“We’re dead serious,” Kuroo interrupts, “we’ve been arguing for months over who gets to hook up with you and we never reached an agreement so we settled with just offering both of us.”

“Did you maybe think to fucking ask me?” You snarl, yet both of them out a huff of air that’s a cross between a laugh and a scoff.

“Would you really deny either of us?” Kuroo asks seriously.

“Let alone both of us?” The finishing each other’s sentences business was a little off putting. But they were right. Being with them was so natural, so easy—there was no way you would ever willingly ditch these fragments of friendship. And you would be lying to yourself if you said you had never entertained the thought.

“Just this once.” You mumble out.

That was three years ago. Three years ago this very day that you, Kuroo, and Bokuto slept together for the first time, inadvertently consummating your three-way relationship. And now, the three of you lay in the massive bed you all shared, completely bare with only a three blanket covering you while Bokuto basked in being embraced from both sides.

Yes, Bokuto has to be in the middle.

“Happy anniversary, guys!” Your little sunshine of an owl chirps, wrapping his brawny arms over both you and Kuroo.

“How the hell did you guys trick me into this?” You mumble out bitterly, albeit jokingly, as your nude body slips out of bed to get dressed and make up breakfast.

“Aw, come on babe. You love us.”

“Pfft, right.” You stick out your tongue towards Kuroo who was grinning slyly at you. “I’m breaking up with both of you right now.”

“You really wanna play coy this morning, kitten? You know what happens when you tease us.”

“Remind me, Tetsurou.”

The flirty drip that leaves your lips prompts the boys to chase you around the apartment before you can get dress. Needless to say, they manage to catch you with ease, laughing as they did so before showering your body with bruises and love bites like they so often did.

What a beautiful friendship indeed.

169 notes · View notes

scarlettwitcher · 4 years

Text

Baby Girl Chapter Three

Summary: Y/n tried to avoid her past with a certain Statesmen but when they’re partnered back up for a mission that could cost millions their lives, Y/n must make the right choice. (This is the Kingsman: The Golden Circle movie basically in writing with reader insert. I recommend watching the movie, it’s amazing! It’s on Amazon Prime Video.)

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Agent Gin(Y/n), Tequila, Ginger Ale, Eggsy, Merlin, Champ, Harry, mentions of Poppy, Charlie, and Clara

Word Count: 5,168

Warnings: angst, really bad insults, fluff, SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral(female receiving), cursing, that’s it, i think.

Author’s Note: This is what started everything. I wanted to write this scene in general ever since i watched the movie, and then it just progressed to me writing this series so enjoy! Shoutout to my lovely @giftofdreams for being an amazing beta! I do need a few betas for a few fics i have, if you’re open to help, send me a message please! As always, thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome/needed.

Previously...

Whiskey knew exactly what Champ meant and he sighed, nodding his head. "I'll try Champ."

"I'm serious Whiskey. That girl has been trying hard to recover. She may be young but she has a big heart." Whiskey nodded as he waved his goodbye, hanging up the call. He was relieved at finally having some time to talk to you, even if it wasn’t alone. Who knew this would be the start of a long, long roller coaster.

Now...

Soon as promised, he appeared in his jet, picking you and Eggsy up, flying you both to where his girlfriend was so you could get your passes to the festival. The whole plane ride you locked yourself into your room, ignoring Whiskey’s occasional knocks on your door. “Darling, talk to me.”

A few hours later, another knock filled the silence. “Sugar, please.” Of course, you ignored it. “You can’t be in there forever baby girl.”

You ignored every one of his advances and you tried even harder to ignore the pet names. Once upon a time, his words would melt you and make you feel like you were the only one in his eyes. Driving up to where Tilde was staying, you sat in the back, watching the scenery pass by as your hair flowing in the air. Whiskey’s eyes kept glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. He didn’t know how you could be more beautiful than you were but here you were, taking his breath away as you always did. Stopping in front of the house, Eggsy jumped out of the car and ran inside leaving you alone with Whiskey. He cleared his throat as he patted the passenger side chair. “Come up here with me darlin.”

You laughed humorlessly as you shook your head. “In your dreams sugar.” He knew you said that condescendingly and he huffed in annoyance.

“Sweetheart, you have to talk to me at some point. We’re on this mission together.”

“Then I’ll only talk to you about the mission.” Whiskey rolled his eyes as he half turned in his seat, watching you. You felt like his gaze could burn through you and you wiggled, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what, darlin?”

“Like you want me. We both know it ain’t true.” You mumbled quietly looking away from him. He felt his next words die in his throat as he tried to think of something nice to say. He really didn’t know the extent of the pain he caused you. Sure, you were in your early twenties and you were considered immature by most but you knew what you felt for the cowboy was real. Whiskey sighed and turned back around before honking a couple of times, alerting the butler nearby. You watched as he neared the car and Whiskey waved him away, mumbling his apologies. A few minutes later, Eggsy appeared with a few bands in his hand. “Got the passes from my contact. You're gonna love Glastonbury.”

“Well, that's the easy part, kid. Take a look in the glove box.” Eggsy popped the glove box open and looked inside, pulling out a tiny container. He opened it and you swore he wanted to laugh. He looked at what looked like a minuscule condom. You remember feeling the same when it was introduced to you. “Fucking hell, bruv. Thought everything was supposed to be bigger in America. Is this why you overcompensate with these massive cars?”

Whiskey chuckled, pushing his glasses back up his nose, as he leaned in, holding his finger up to Eggsy. Whiskey was about to explain its use but you decided to butt in. You leaned in between the two, giving your shoulder’s back to Whiskey as you looked up at Eggsy. “Goes on your finger. The surveillance tracker is in the tip. Apply light pressure for three seconds to release it.”

Your scent quickly invaded all of Whiskey’s senses and it took everything for him to not moan. You smelled sweet, just like he remembered. He was so tempted to reach out and touch your skin, seeing if the way he remembered it was the same or if it was better. “Nice, bruv.” You giggled at his slang and your laugh snapped Whiskey out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and you sat back as Whiskey drove off in the direction of the festival. You spent the car ride talking to Eggsy as much as you could, ignoring a simmering Whiskey. You made it a point to ignore him and it didn’t take long for Eggsy to catch on.

From the moment you arrived, you were overwhelmed with the people, smells, and the music. Considering you entered the agency at a very young age, you didn’t experience a lot of the “life things”. You didn’t have the typical years any teenager did. Both your parents were Statesmen and they raised you in hopes you would become one too.

Whiskey noticed your excitement as you slipped on your band and he couldn’t help but smile. You were adorable. You walked amongst the people in between Whiskey and Eggsy as he started talking. “Okay, so according to her Instagram feed… Charlie's ex-girlfriend is up ahead at the VIP bar. Which one of us is gonna plant the tracker?”

You came up to the V.I.P entrance where several tents surrounded a large bar. The security guard stopped the three of you, motioning to his wrist. “Bands, please. You’re good.” You passed him with ease as you continued your walk into the area.

“I say we both make an approach. Whoever gets on best, goes for it.” You visibly stiffened at this, not happy with what could happen. Both Whiskey and Eggsy noticed your immediate discomfort but neither said anything. You weren’t included because from research, you were able to conclude she was straight and you wouldn’t be able to woo her.

Eggsy cleared his throat before shaking his head slightly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out you and Whiskey had a past, especially after he noticed your behavior in the car. “Well, it doesn't have to be a competition, bruv. Why don't we just go up to her… shake her hand, pat her on the back, whatever, you know. Job well done.” You commended Eggsy for his kindness. You hadn’t known the brit for very long at all but you took a liking to him and he to you.

“The hand is not a mucus membrane, Eggsy. Neither is the back. They teach you anything at Kingsman?” Whiskey found it amusing that Eggsy hadn’t caught on to how the tracker was applied and he shook his head. You kept your head down, trying not to call attention to yourself. Whiskey noticed how guarded you had become and he wished he didn’t have to take a stab at sleeping with the target. He had just gotten the opportunity to be around you again and he knew this would make everything worse.

“What are you talking about?”

“Our trackers are designed to enter the bloodstream. They circulate harmlessly, providing full audio and GPS.” As Whiskey explained, he made a hand motion with two fingers and for a second, you forgot you were angry with him, remembering how undone you became on his fingers the first time you slept together. Your mouth watered and you felt your underwear dampen at the memories of what happened between the two of you. Eggsy was in a whole other world as he finally started to connect the dots. He held up one of his fingers in question.

“Mucus membrane. That's like up the nose, isn't it? What the fuck am I gonna do? Stick my finger… It's not just inside the nose, is it?” Whiskey spotted the target and he kept his eyes on her. You noticed and you quickly switched from aroused to feeling nauseous. You mumbled quietly about how you needed a drink, making your way to the other side of the bar. You had to keep your eyes on the target in case anything could happen.

“No, Eggsy, it ain't.” Whiskey watched you leave and he sighed, feeling tense about the whole situation.

“Fuck.”

“All right, I'll take the first crack. Watch and learn, buddy.” Whiskey took a chug of his small flask before he was stopped by Eggsy’s hand on his shoulder.

“Are you sure about that bruv?” Eggsy nodded his head towards you. Whiskey glanced in your direction and sighed as he shook his head. He knew if he was the one who had to place the tracker, things would worsen with you.

“No, I’m not but I have to give it a try, no matter how bad it might go.” Whiskey took another sip as he winked at Eggsy. Eggsy just clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He caught on quick that he was going to make the target reject him on purpose for your sake.

“Good luck.”

Whiskey walked over to Clara with a cool swagger to him. You watched him as you downed another shot. “Miss, I beg your pardon. Now, I don't wanna pester you, but I just have to know, what time are you playing?” Because of the comms that you were wearing, you could hear everything and you couldn’t help but cringe at his words.

“Pretty little thing like you come here often?” You had had a hard mission that involved kids and Whiskey found you at a bar, drinking your pain away. You smiled tightly as you ordered another shot, signalling the bartender to prepare one for Whiskey.

“Only when I want to forget.” Whiskey chuckled quietly, drinking the shot quick, hissing from the burn.

“You and me both sweetheart. You and me both.” You looked over at him and it was at that moment that you knew. You were in love with him.

You knocked back another shot as you tried to shake the memories out of your head. You weren’t worried about getting drunk anytime soon. Working somewhere like Statesman, you built a huge tolerance for alcohol.

“I'm not in a band.” Clara grabbed her head in embarrassment. “Oh, God. Who did you think I was? Please don't say someone ghastly.” Her voice echoed through your comms and you downed two more shots.

“I’m sure she plays for Hozi-dead. I mean, geez, sweetpea, go outside.” You heard Eggsy snort and chuckle into the comms as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fucking hell Gin.” You held up a shot in his direction before downing it, letting out a quiet hiss from the burn.

Whiskey wanted to laugh and he had to hide it with a cough as he listened to your sweet voice. He loved it when you were jealous. That’s what he hoped you were. If you were jealous, then there was the sliver of a chance he could fix things. “God damn it, now I feel like a fool. I just assumed that a woman with your charisma…” You felt your insides turn and feel like lava as you took another shot. “Well, she just had to be somebody.” Even though you recovered, even though you swore to not fall for it again, even though you trained yourself to be better, within a few minutes of listening to Whiskey, you were falling back into the same hole that was loving him.

“Right. Thank you.” You downed your last two shots before talking into the comms.

“I think I’m going to go watch some shows, I’ll see you boys later at our tent.” Without waiting for a response, you disconnected your comm and tracker, leaving them on the bar counter, needing some alone time to think. Whiskey wanted to tell you to stay, to just give him a few minutes but he couldn’t, not with Clara staring so intensely at him. He looked away in the direction where you were and took a deep breath.

“No, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to make me feel like a dumbass. So I'll let you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink.” Whiskey snapped his fingers at the bartender trying to get his attention. Clara watched unamused.

She raised her finger as she spoke. “Follow my finger.”

Clara swiped her fingers a few times to the left. Whiskey followed her finger every time before he chuckled and raised his eyebrow in confusion. “What are we doing?”

“Swiping to the left. What, you don't do Tinder in America?”

“Tinder what?”

Eggsy finally approached the pair as he nodded. “Do you know, I think it's probably a generational thing. It translates as "Go away, old man." Whiskey cleared his throat as he filled his mind with thoughts of you to keep his cool and not punch Eggsy.

“Be good, be cool. Bye.” Whiskey took another sip of his flask as he walked out of the V.I.P. area in search of you. He knew it was probably not going to work but he flipped out his phone, pulling up your name. He smiled fondly at the picture he had as your contact, He took it the night you slept together. You were asleep on his chest, resting your head on his heart with your hair flowing across your back. He had his arm wrapped around you possessively. The angle was perfect and he took a picture, a selfie of the both of you, in remembrance. He had taken many pictures of you that night but that was his favorite. He thought back to the countless times he would look back at your photos, staring at the ones he had of you sleeping, of you riding him, of you laying naked and stretched out on his bed. You drove him crazy.

He shot you a quick text, watching for a few minutes, waiting for the read sign to pop up. Fortunately, it did and so did the little bubble indicating you were responding. He felt his mouth go dry and he couldn’t remember a time he felt this nervous. A few minutes later and a message from you appeared on his phone but it wasn’t something he wanted to see.

8:01 PM - Whiskey - Sweetheart, where are you?

8:13 PM - Gin - Isn’t trying to apply the tracker more important than where I am?

8:14 PM - Whiskey - Baby girl, please. Eggsy is the one placing the tracker on Clara. I just want to talk.

Whiskey sighed angrily through his nose as he responded back immediately. You opened the message and you could feel the sincerity. The one thing that Whiskey has only ever reserved for you was babygirl. You used it all the time and so did a lot of the agents but Whiskey never did. He had only ever used it with you. It was too intimate for him. You bit your lip as you stared at your phone.

8:22 PM - Gin - I need some time J

8:23 PM - Whiskey - I’ll be waiting baby girl

Whiskey sighed as he read your text and decided to wait for you at your tent. He walked in, looking around before deciding to sit down on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his chin in between his hands. He didn’t blame you for the way you were acting. Hell, he was expecting worse but he wanted to show you he had changed. He wanted you to see he wanted you. He had asked for a transfer back to the Kentucky offices a few months ago but he was denied by Champ because of you. Requesting again, Champ said he needed your approval to make the transfer. Whiskey knew it was going to be hard but he wanted to fight for you.

Glancing at his watch after a few hours, Whiskey noticed it was going to be close to midnight. He was starting to get worried. He knew he couldn’t get a hold of you so he waited. A few minutes later, the tent door slowly opened and you stepped into the tent. Whiskey stopped his pacing, his head snapping up to meet your eyes. You stood there timidly as you tried to gather your thoughts. You had spent the last few hours trying to get Whiskey out of your head but you couldn’t. You thought you were ready to confront him but seeing him now, every logical argument you had was thrown out the window.

Whiskey felt his heart pump with adrenaline as he made his way over to you, hugging you tightly, holding you as hard as he could. You gave in and wrapped your arms around him as he kissed your head. “I’m so sorry baby girl. I’m so sorry. Fuck, I was so worried.” You took a shaky breath against his chest and you were overwhelmed with his scent. He smelled exactly like you remembered. Leather, Whiskey, and some cheap but surprisingly sweet-smelling cologne. He rested his face on the top of your head, inhaling you and surrounding himself with all that was you.

“Whiskey w-wait.” You were overwhelmed. You pushed Whiskey away as you took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling vulnerable. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, not after everything you did.”

“I know, baby, I know. But you gotta let me try to fix things. You gotta let me show you.”

“I know enough to know that people don’t change.”

“Gin, I haven't touched a girl in months, since I went to New York.” You took a shaky breath at this and you felt your lip tremble. Whiskey had left for New York a year and a half ago and it shocked you. “You’re all I think about. Your smile, your scent, your laugh, your stupid jokes. The way you moan my name and call me those sweet, sweet things. The way your skin is so soft and the way you say you’re mine. I miss you.” Whiskey slowly started to walk towards you, cornering you between him and the wall. “Champ told me to not try anything but I just, you make me weak, baby.”

“Why wait until now?” Whiskey chuckled as he dragged a hand down his face in frustration.

“Baby girl, you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts and when I was in Kentucky, you wouldn’t let me near you. I tried.” You chewed your lip guiltily. He moved closer until he was inches away from you. He reached up gently, cupping your cheek with one hand, and he moved his other to hold onto your hip. He was holding on hard and you knew you would have bruises in the morning. He dragged his thumb against your lip so gently as if you’d break under his hold. Your eyes watered and you looked up at him with all the emotions you kept away. He reached up with his thumb to brush away your tears. You wanted to move. Every part of your body screamed for you to leave, to not give in but your heart was saying you needed to stay in his arms. You believed he had changed and you hoped with every fibre of your being you were right.

Whiskey tilted your head up to look at him as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “Tell me to stop and I will baby girl. Because if you don’t, I won’t hold back. I can't. I crave you too much." He didn't kiss your lips but made his way down, kissing down your jaw. He moved towards your neck, acting quickly to mark you as his. Once he pulled away, there was a large purple hickey on your skin. He kissed down your shoulders, marking and biting you as much as he could. "I've missed your skin."

You whimpered under his touch as you closed your eyes tightly, letting his mouth overwhelm you. You moaned quietly. "J-jack." Whiskey groaned his approval before kissing his way back up to your lips. He kissed you roughly, tangling his hand into your hair, as he held you against him. He moved his hands down your body until they got to your ass. He squeezed hard, pulling you up by your thighs to wrap around his waist. You happily obliged, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bed.

"I fucking missed you, darling." He moved to lay you down on the bed, caressing you as he hovered over you, looking down at you, searching for anything to tell him you didn't want this, that you didn't want him. All he saw in your eyes was your love for him. He moved his hand to your shirt and pulled it off as he inhaled sharply. He would never get tired of seeing you. "You're so beautiful, baby." He slowly unhooked your bra, tossing it across the room before leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered under him, moving one of your hands into his hair as he sucked hard, biting your nipple and pulling back, letting it fall. He did the same with your other breast, teasing you. He kissed around your skin, leaving dark marks wherever he could. He pulled a couple of giggles from your lips as his mustache tickled your skin. He smiled against you.

You reached up to tug on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin against yours. Whiskey immediately obliged and took off his leather jacket, draping it on a chair nearby as he started to unbutton his shirt, slowly revealing his dark, tanned skin that you loved so much. You sat up, peppering his skin with kisses before licking from his lower abdomen up to his chest, pulling a growl from him as he pinned you down by your wrists. He held them over your head with one hand as he used the other to cup your cheek gently, admiring all of your features. You blushed under his intense gaze, looking away from him. "Don't look away from me ever again, baby girl." You whimpered as you returned your gaze to him, seeing the lust building in his eyes.

Whiskey reached down to your small, booty shorts that you chose to wear for the festival, unbuttoning them. He was impatient and he moved his hand quickly inside them, rubbing you over your panties. You gasped and slowly rocked your hips against him as he growled lowly from his chest. "So fucking wet. Is all that for me baby girl?"

"Y-yes Jack… always thinking of you."

"Fuck baby." You closed your eyes tightly as you arched your back. He brushed his fingers over your clit and you were a mess. He watched you in complete amazement. This was better than he remembered. He let go of your hands, moving his way down your body before getting to your shorts, pulling them off roughly with your panties. He spread your legs wide, staring at your soaking wet cunt and he moaned. "You have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, princess. Fucking beautiful." Whiskey dragged a finger from your clit to your hole and you moaned softly. It should've embarrassed you how open and bare you were for him but you craved the attention he was giving you.

Whiskey got impatient and leaned forward, attaching his lips to your clit before sucking roughly, groaning at your state. He was everywhere and you couldn't catch up. He was eating you out like a starved man. Soon, his tongue was joined by two of his fingers pumping into your pussy. He moaned as he sucked your arousal, pulling off with a loud slurp. That made you blush intensely. "Taste fucking better than I remember." Whiskey was very hard in his jeans and it was starting to hurt. He reached down, unbuckling his belt and his jeans, letting some relief get to him as he continued to suck your cunt like he wouldn't ever again. He didn't relent and you knew he wouldn't until you came. It really didn't take long as he inserted a third finger, pumping quick and rough into your pussy, your arousal coating your thighs. With one last suck on your clit, your body was surrounded with waves of pleasure. You cried out Whiskey's name as he didn't relent, sucking even harder, drinking all of your arousal up. You twitched from the over sensitivity, trying to pull Whiskey off of you.

"J-jack, hold o-on." Whiskey laughed as he relented and kissed his way back up to your lips.

"Sorry baby girl. You know I love your pussy. Always get lost in it." You kissed him affectionately as you pushed him to stand, crawling down the bed until you got the edge and you moved down to your knees. You finished unzipping his jeans, tugging them down, releasing his impressive length. "Baby, you don't hav- ah fuck!" You didn't let Whiskey finish as you took his length into your mouth, pushing to take him all the way. You were a bit more than half ways before his cock hit the back of your throat. You suppressed your gags as you pushed to take all of his length. His hand came down to your hair, holding you in place as you choked on his cock. Your eyes watered and you felt the tears fall down your cheek as you pulled back with a loud gasp. You panted as you took his cock in your hand, pumping his shaft as you caught your breath. Whiskey's head fell back from the pleasure, moaning out, feeling like he was getting too close for his liking. You were going to take him back into your mouth but he stopped you. "Baby girl, I'm way too close and I'd like to finish inside of you."

You whined as he lifted you back onto the bed, his body covering yours seconds later. He pumped his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked into your eyes wanting reassurance before slowly pushing into you, the room full of your pants and moans. He slipped all the way in, staying still so you could get used to him. He peppered your face with kisses, leaving you a giggling mess. "Jack, move p-please."

Whiskey complied and pulled back, leaving only the head of his cock inside of you before thrusting back roughly. Soon, he found a rhythm and he was pounding into you. He moved one of his hands down to your thigh, holding you possessively as he pulled your leg up to wrap around his hip. You let him take charge of your body, as he thrust over and over, filling you up like no one else could. "So tight princess. So." With every word he said, he thrusted harder and harder into you. "Fucking. Tight." You cried out in pleasure, raking your fingers down his back, long red strips coloring his skin. Whiskey let his face fall against your shoulder as he started to falter in his rhythm, getting close to his climax. He reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit, wanting you to cum first. "Come on baby, cum for me. I know you can."

Your body jerked at the sudden increase of pleasure and you moaned like a whore being fucked at church. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, feeling every breath he took, every moan that vibrated through his chest. You felt every word he spoke to you and you felt what you did to him. You felt safe in his arms. This was where you always had belonged, with Whiskey, in his embrace. Before you could even prepare, your orgasm hit you harder than you could've expected. Your body was on fire as every thrust heightened your pleasure, sending you to a new heaven. Whiskey moved both hands to either side of your face as he held himself above you, his muscles clenching. He knew he was about to cum and he needed his strength to not fall on you. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna c- Fuck, I love you, baby girl!" A few more thrusts inside your tight entrance and he was cumming, filling you with his thick seed.

You laid there, frozen and in shock but it had nothing to do with him releasing inside of you. It was the words he cried into your ear as he came. He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath as he hovered over you. You pulled him into you, loving the weight of him on top of you. You felt his rapid beating heart matching yours. You laid there in blissed silence. After you both had finally calmed down and Whiskey let his fingers roam all over your skin, you found the courage to speak, or in this case, whisper. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what darling?"

"Do you love me?" Whiskey stiffened for a second before relaxing and turning to look at you. You looked so radiant under the candlelight of the tent and he wondered just how he could be so lucky. After losing his first love, he swore he wouldn't love another. He didn't deserve to. That's what he said to himself every day until he met you. You were his second chance at a good life. He dragged his finger gently across your forehead to your nose and then to your lips, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. He plopped himself up with his other arm and pulled you under him as he nudged his nose against your cheek, inhaling and humming quietly. Your scents were mixed perfectly and he loved how he could scent his cologne on your skin.

"Yes. I’ll love you until the cows come home. You're all I want, baby girl." You felt your heart soar and you pulled him down for a sweet kiss. You poured all of your love into it. You weren't prepared to say it back just yet but you knew he knew. Whiskey knew you loved him and you didn't need to say it. He slowly kissed down your jaw, covering every inch of your skin with a kiss. It didn't take long for him to harden and for round two to commence. All night, you made love in the tent until the morning.

You were exhausted after the many sessions you both had and you were asleep, tucked into Whiskey's side. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, holding you tightly against him. You didn't expect this side to him but you loved it. You slowly stirred in your quiet slumber, knowing you had to return to the agency to prepare for anything to appear for the mission. You felt a heavyweight against your hip and you smiled, remembering everything from the night before. You never expected things to go this way but you were happy. You turned in his hold for a little, and watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful, like all the worries that weighed heavy on his shoulders were gone. You loved seeing him like this and you silently vowed to yourself to try and help him feel like that more often. You leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before deciding to get up for the day. It was going to be a long day and you felt it in your bones.

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @lovebodymindstuff @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @chook007 @akshi8278 @evansrogerskitten @bringmesomepie56 @persephonehemingway @blacktithe7 @donnaintx @queenxxxsupreme @whitewolfandthefox @riviawitch3r

Agent Whiskey Tags: @thesadvampire @le-roman-rose @mcudisiac @someone-take-my-bagelseverywhere @chibi-liz05 @marvel-avengers01 @themandjalorian @floccodineveautunnale @jassiepoohbear @gollyderek @retrobhaddie @wolf-lover74 @paryl @laubeck10 @ithinkwehitametaphor @wizard-b1tch @domino-oh-damn @c-ly-g @rosamedina92 @sunshinepascal @ariespedro @libellule2001 @ohpedromypedro @two-unbeatable-beaters

Tags I think would be interested(please don’t hate): @spacegayofficial @ariasfandom @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sendhoots @stevieharrrr @dindjarindiaries @hiscyarika @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @jimmythegirl @catfishingmorales @generaldamneron @cptnbvcks @swhiskeys @honeychicanawrites @scribbledghost @thepascalorian @ladydahliawrites @roboboyjinx-writes @zeldasayer @damerondjarin @aint-that-a-mcfreakin-bitch @aerynwrites @mandadoration @absurdthirst @huliabitch @gryffindorwriter @ghostofthebarricade @astrolo-galaxy @siempre-pedro @cherryplasmids @madadlorian @sithlordmando @bubble-tea-bunny @beskars @longitud-de-onda @archieimagines @outfatuating @lesqui @inknopewetrust @menacingmandalorian @softpedropascal @pascalisthepunkest @swimmingbyrd @buckyodinson @everstarry @naivesansa @waywardodysseys @paniclana @tiffdawg @siempre-pedro @fandom-imagines-stories @umbrellasandlassos @kingsmanstories @bucks-angels @the-real-xhorse

100 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-inserts · 4 years

Text

The Library (Part One)

Nick Scratch x Reader!

ENJOY, no warnings except maybe a case of blue balls at the end?

Friday, 4.35pm

The grand library at the Academy of Unseen Arts was marvellous, grand marble flooring with rows upon rows of large wooden bookcases, stacked high with books ranging from spells to transfiguration to potions to even a small fiction section for entertainment, not to mention the Restricted Section which is kept under lock and key with more protective and life-threatening enchantments than Hell itself. Marble pillars line the room creating a pathway and above it all was a large black crystal chandelier, with metal stand throughout the room lined with candles giving the room a oddly warm and inviting glow.

For once the library was empty, no surprise really, Friday afternoons mark the beginning of the weekend for the academy, therefore the corridors that were once buzzing with life and laughter of students were now quieter than the grave, only a few late leavers lined the corridors, their suitcases, trunks and familiars blocking the way, their quiet laughter and talking echoed eerily throughout the hallways.

You on the other-hand were not packing to leave for the weekend, the academy had become your permanent home, so every Friday it has become routine to hide away from it all in the library, curled up on one of the plush red velvet arm chairs placed in front of the grand fire, your shoeless feet tucked beneath you keeping them warm. Your hands held a old, tattered transfiguration book as your familiar, Echo – a jet black Ball Python – tucked and wrapped herself in your hair.

Taking a deep breath, you place the book down on the coffee table and focus all your attention on the empty wine glass placed in front of you. Resting your bare feet firmly on the floor as you lean forwards, hoovering your hands just above the object of your spell, “Per potentiam autem hora bus, exaudi me,” you whisper – by the power of the witching hour, hear me – a smirk grew on your lips as you felt the light of the moon engulf you through the Gothic window causing goosebumps to form on the surface of your skin.

Closing your eyes, you push and hold all your power in your hands, “lepus saliens vitrum in tenuem!” you command forcefully – delicate glass into leaping rabbit – for a few moments all was silent in the library and you didn't want to open your eyes in fear of the spell not working.

Your worst fears were realised when a chirp sounded throughout the library, opening your eyes to see a large raven perched on the table, it's large talons already making marks in the wood as it's beady yellow eyes starting at you as rub your temples, taking the book carefully from beside the creature successfully dodging the bird attempts to poke you with his beak.

“How do I turn you back into glass?” you ask yourself, violently flicking through the pages whilst attempting to keep half an eye on the raven. When suddenly the bird lets out a loud and threatening noise before flapping it's large wings and flying from the table, causing you to jump throwing the book to the floor as you stood up.

The free bird continued to mock you for several minutes as you tried to coach it down from it's hiding spots on the top of the bookshelves, every time you got close to being within spell distance the bird swooped down to scratch you before finally seeking prime safety in the chandelier.

“Seriously?!” you groan in frustration, wiping the sweat that had gathered on your forehead on your sleeve, all the running around had made you warm and the heat from the fire wasn't helping, discarding your jumper on the armchair you moved back to the side of the chandelier.

“I can summon demons, make trips to hell and control mortals yet I cannot catch a fucking bird!?” you growl, clenching your fists causing the room too shake slightly in response to your anger.

Suddenly a low chuckle echoes from behind you, “And you can't even turn it into the right animal,” a male voice teases, turning round you see Nick Scratch slowly strutting his way further into the library, his signature smirk on his lips and an even more seductive look in his eyes, “The Dark Lord will be disappointed in you, Y/N.” he said, getting closer and closer, very soon he was behind you, his cool warm breath fanning over your now exposed shoulder.

“Fuck off Nick.” you spat, twirling around to face him, your noses almost touching.

Nick just laughed, “That's not what you were saying the last time, if I remember right it was, 'Fuck me, Nick'.”

A deep blush rose to your cheeks as he teased you, a small spark of anger lit in your chest as you waved your hand away from you forwards him, sending the young Warlock flying backwards. His body hit the marble floor a few meters backwards.

“No Nicolas, I never got the chance remember,” you said, turning your back to him and setting your sights back on the escaped Raven, Father Blackwood would have your head if he knew you set an animal free in the Academy that wasn't a familiar, “You got a telepathic call from the Weird Sisters and decided I wasn't as much fun.”

Behind you, Nick rolled his eyes as he collected himself from the floor, a small hit of annoyance filled him due to the throwing backwards, suddenly your body was thrown forwards across the library, the front of your body collided with one of the bookshelves making you groan in pain.

“How jealous you are, pet.” Nick voice suddenly whispered in your ear, one of his large hands grips your waist as the other rests on the shelf by your head, his body is pushed against you keeping your trapped in the space. Goosebumps appear over your body as Nicks gentle breaths echo in your ear and engulf your skin.

A hiss breaks the silence as Echo emerged, not being best pleased Nick had launched you across the room with her still settled in your hair, Nick lets out a yell of surprise as Echo strikes at him, causing him to stumble backwards giving you the best opportunity to use your powers, forcing Nick to kneel in front of you.

“Oh Nicky, be careful.” you whisper with a smirk, leaning down to hover your lips over his, “She bites.”

Echo wrapped round your hand as she continues to hiss at Nick, clearly enjoying her theatrical role then escaped into the bookshelves as Nick snatched the back of your knees and pushed you backwards, being sure to protect the back of your head from the marble flooring, trapping you beneath him with your arms pinned to the cold marble floor with him happily sitting between your legs.

He smirks seductively with an evil look in his eyes as he watched you struggle for a moment before dipping his head into the crook of your neck, just below your ear.

“She's not the only one, sweetheart.” he whispers.

_______

Want Part 2? Let me know!

#nick scratch x reader #nicholas scratch x reader #the chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #reader insert #nick scratch imagine

347 notes · View notes

supremesukuna · 4 years

Note

Part 2 of Jedi!Reader please? Maybe Jealous!Mando and uhh.. Smut (maybe) lmao I'm sorry

"So I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for the past couple of days. Could you write something where the reader just randomly gets kissed by someone and mando gets super jealous because he wants to be able to kiss them? I love your writing so much! It always makes my day when you post something 🥰"

Hope you dont mind that I put these two together! This was getting a bit long so the smut will have to wait until part 3 😅

part one

***

"I'll go and get the supplies. You wait here. I'm not sure how long this will take, so don't wander off." Din informed you.

You nodded. "I'll keep myself busy here." You smiled as you looked across the square of the little town you had stopped in. There was a small market which you could occupy yourself with.

You had taken your time looking across the various fruits, trinkets and foods for sale, many of which you had not seen before. You didn't have any credits on you to purchase anything, which had you kicking yourself, as you had already seen about 8 items you wanted to buy.

You were snapped out of your daze when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You turned to see who the voice belonged to.

"Tarver?" You questioned, a smile overtaking your face. "Is that really you?"

You rushed towards him and pulled him into a hug. He was an old friend of yours, you had both trained together and fought against the Galactic Empire together. You hadn't seen him since the fall of the Empire, when all the Jedi scattered.

"What brings you here?" He asked, his smile equally as bright.

"Just stocking up on supplies. You?"

"I live here. Moved here after our final battle."

"Have you seen anyone else? I haven't seen any of our Jedi friends for years!"

"A few, a lot of people pass through here."

"Prime spot for travellers I'm guessing?"

"Correct."

You continued catching up, talking about your old memories, your current lives, your future plans. It was comforting to have a reminder of where you had come from, it reminded you of how far you'd come, and how much your life had improved since choosing to travel with Din.

"I best let you go about your day."

You nodded in agreement. "If we don't go now, we'll be here all day." You joked. "See you soon, yeah? I'm sure I'll come this way again."

"See you too!" He leaned forward, which caused you to instinctively pull away. "Come on, you know I can't not kiss you."

You laughed, "you make it sound so romantic." You knew it was far from that.

Tarver came from a community who kissed friends and acquaintances goodbye, it was seen as offensive to avoid it. You had made many jokes about it in the past.

"Ugh fine. Make it quick. I don't want your germs." You joked, easily falling back into your old routines.

"Always so polite."

He leant towards you, pressing a quick kiss on your lips. You let him, but didn't pass up the opportunity to fake gag.

"That felt like kissing a sibling." You overreacted.

"Blame my ancestors for putting it into our etiquette."

"Curse you!" You waved your fist at the sky, causing the two of you to double over in laughter.

A sudden tight grip on your arm snapped you out of it. You looked up, seeing Din.

"Oh hi." You didn't bother to hide your surprise. That was much quicker than you expected.

"We need to go."

He didn't give you a chance to respond, moving his grip to your wrist and pulling you along, forcing you to fall in step behind him.

You yelled a quick bye over your shoulder, before concentrating on keeping up with Din's quick steps. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Something had really worried or annoyed him, hence your quick getaway, so you kept an eye out for any suspicious activity. Perhaps you had been followed to the little town, or Din had bumped into trouble.

But you only grew more confused when there was no sign of any commotion or any sight of people spying or trying to follow you. You couldn't sense anyone nearby either. It was when you had exited the town and started down the route back to the Razor Crest that you voiced your confusion.

"Din, can you please tell me what's going on? Are we in danger?"

"No." He responded, his tone clipped. Din's footsteps did not get any slower, nor his grip any looser.

"Then why are you so quick to leave?" You tried to pull your wrist away, but he didn't let up.

"Let's just go."

You dug your heels into the ground, forcing him to stop. Din swung round to face you, his posture showing annoyance.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me what happened." He had a habit of hiding things from you, thinking it protected you, but it only made you ill prepared for when you inevitably ran into trouble. You had repeatedly asked him to start being more open, but knew it was difficult for someone so used to travelling alone.

He sighed loudly, tugging your arm, but you wrenched it away from his grip, crossing your arms.

"Stop being awkward. Let's go." Din stepped forward to reach for you again, but you took a step back.

"No, not unless you start being honest with me. What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Then why are you acting so odd? Something must have happened for you to be so rattled."

"I'm not... rattled." He didn't sound convincing at all.

"Well you're something."

"You wandered off. I told you not to do that."

Now he was making excuses. "You told me to make myself busy while you got our supplies. I stayed near to where you were, so don't blame this on me."

He didn't say anything, and an awkward silence fell over the two of you. You scraped your boots against the ground, waiting for him to explain, but he stayed silent.

"Please just be honest with me." You half begged.

"Who were you speaking to?"

You were taken aback by his question, and his unnecessarily rough tone. "Someone I know."

"Someone you know?" He repeated.

"Yes." You spoke slowly, unsure what he was getting at.

"You know them well?"

"Define well?" You had no idea what an earth he was on about.

"Well enough to-" he stopped himself, but you knew now what he was getting at.

"To what?" You were visibly annoyed now, realising what he was probably getting at. But he didn't need to act like such a child.

"You know what."

"So you're spying on me now."

"If you won't be honest then I'll have to."

"How have I not been honest?!" Your voice raised in annoyance.

"Keep your voice down. And how can I keep you safe if you run off with other men?" He regretted what he said once it was out of his mouth, not realising how bad it sounded until it was too late.

"Seriously? Din, what the hell?" You sounded genuinely hurt, at it made his chest ache.

"I didn't mean that to sound so... accusing."

"Well it did." You tried not to sound so offended, but failed.

You continued, explaining yourself to stop him thinking the worst. "He's a friend, I trained with him. We were Padawans together. And if you'd just asked me instead of assuming everything, you would know that."

"...And the kiss?" His own insecurity caused him to ask. It's not like he was able to do that with you whenever he pleased. You'd never openly discussed what your relationship was prior to this moment, but you both knew there was an unspoken thing between the two of you.

"Din, it was nothing. It's a weird etiquette thing from his home planet."

"To kiss people on the mouth?"

"Yes." You were exasperated. "Honestly, he'd probably try to kiss you if I introduced you." It sounded ridiculous out of context. You reached for his hand, knowing that your touch helped ground him. "Din please believe me." You looked up at him.

"I believe you."

He hated how upset you looked, especially as it was his fault. You were blaming yourself for his own insecurity.

"I didn't mean to upset you." His voice was soft, trying to remove the hurt expression currently dominating your features.

You took a deep breath, but Din didn't miss how shaky it was. "It's fine. I get that this-" you gestured between the two of you "-is different for you, and for me as well. I wasn't thinking."

Din's chest felt heavy at your response. You were so good, always thinking of him over yourself. Even when he was most arguably in the wrong, you were the one apologising.

"Don't apologise. I overreacted."

"No you didn't."

Din cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. "Yes I did. I shouldn't have done that. I got jealous and stopped thinking straight. It's not your fault."

"Jealous?" You tilted your head questioningly, a gesture you'd unconsciously picked up from Din.

"I..." He hesitated.

"It's okay. You can tell me." You encouraged him gently. Your tummy was doing somersaults at his unspoken confession.

"I... care about you. And I like having you around. It's nice. I would hate for you to leave."

"Din, I would never leave you. Why would you think that?"

He shifted uncomfortably, and you realised he'd probably opened up more than he had done to most people. Discussing insecurities out in the open would not be at all easy or comfortable for him.

You approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. You pulled him towards you, squeezing tightly.

"I care about you too. And I love being with you. Please don't ever worry about me leaving. I would never."

"I know."

"You're all I have, you know? And the kid." You reassured.

His chin rested on top of your head, his arms wrapping around your back just as tightly as yours were around him. His hands felt warm against your back, and you loved having him so close, despite his beskar armour not being the most huggable material in the world.

"We can go back to the ship if you want to?" You asked.

"Okay."

You went to pull away but he kept one arm wrapped securely around you as you fell in step side by side, your own arm around his waist.

***

part three coming soon!

#mando x reader #mando oneshot #mando one shot #mando requests #din djarin x reader #din djarin requests #din djarin oneshot #din djarin one shot #the mandalorian requests #the mandalorian one shot #the mandalorian x reader

228 notes · View notes