#i softened up one and now he can tolerate my presence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

universitypenguin · 8 months

Text

Chapter 19

The Princess & the Lawyer

Summary: Princess tries to make things right with Lloyd. An arrest is made in the case and fur flies when Detective Roth meets Lloyd for the first time.

Word Count: 4,643

Masterlist

Warnings: References to stalking, murder, serial killings, criminal investigations into violent crimes

Author’s Note: The winds from the outer bands of Hurricane Hillary are just starting to blow up to my area and it knocked out my electricity for a few hours (thanks, Spectrum Internet! 😤) Fortunately, it’s back on now and I can finally post this chapter!

Chapter XIX

Sunlight gleamed off the slow-moving Shenandoah River and reflected across the valley. Lloyd’s cabin was perched overlooking the basin where the river wound around a bend and slowed to a crawl. From your current position on the front porch, the river looked more like a sheet of glass than a body of water. Lloyd had brought you here after you’d been released from the hospital. Landon arrived the next day with a suitcase of your clothes and took up quarters in the basement. His presence had been a welcome relief from the thick fog of tension hanging over the cabin.

“Are you going to talk to him soon?” Landon asked.

You tucked your knees under your chin, wrapped your arms around them, and stared at the ex-SEAL without really seeing him. The idea of apologizing had been circulating on a loop in your head for the past seventy-two hours.

“I don’t know what to say. It’s like there’s a wall of ice between us.”

“Yeah. I didn’t realize a person could get frostbite in the middle of August until I spent a few hours with you two. Is this how you normally fight?”

“No. Lloyd usually blows up. The only person I’ve seen act like this is Zach. And we know how that usually goes.”

Landon winced. There was no softening the burnt of Zach’s temper. Reason and appeasement had no effect on it - once he turned into Jack Frost all you could do was wait until he de-thawed. Landon leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“Finding out the way he did was hard on him.”

You shut your eyes as if doing so would block out the truth of his statement.

“I know. Not telling him was wrong, but the risk of him losing control and doing something reckless was too much. I was trying to protect him.”

Landon’s eyes softened. “Everyone knows how much you try to shield Lloyd, but you can’t always stand between him and the rest of the world.”

“I’ve seen him spiral before. I don’t want to do anything that would send him down that path again… but here we are. He’s barely looked at me for more than three seconds in the last few days and he’s treating me like a barely tolerable houseguest.”

“You have to talk to him. It’s been three days and quite frankly, I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you two. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. That’s why you’re not seeing an explosion of temper.”

“He’s never been like this before and I don’t know what to say. I’ve been trying to figure it out for days.”

Landon shot you a sardonic look. “Princess, get it through your thick skull: Lloyd isn’t angry, he’s hurt. You’ve never seen him like this before because you’re the only one who could make him feel like this.”

“Trust me, underneath that hurt, he’s angry. Lloyd is always angry.”

“Fear lies at the center of anger. He’s afraid your relationship is broken and that’s why he can’t look at you. Come on, take one for the team - and by team I mean myself. Go talk to him.”

“How do I face him after what I did?”

“He won’t bite,” Landon said.

“No, but his razor blade tongue should be registered as a weapon.”

Landon’s phone buzzed on the unfinished porch railing. He checked the message.

“If you’re going to apologize anytime soon, do it now. Zach is on his way up with Bishop. They just stopped in town for gas and they’ll be here in thirty minutes or so.”

You glanced through the window into the living room where Lloyd sat on the couch, laptop in front of him, scowling. Your stomach pitched at the prospect of the conversation you needed to have.

Landon stood up, his chair scraping against the unfinished planks of the porch floor. “I’ll take a walk down to the river and give you guys some privacy.”

“You’re leaving me alone with him?!”

“You made this mess, you clean it up.”

“If you hear screaming, come rescue me,” you muttered.

Landon crossed the yard to the trail leading down to the river basin and disappeared into the thick wilderness.

You were suddenly alone. Your hands clenched until your fingernails dug into your palms. There wouldn’t be a good time to do this. You’d never feel ready for it, and Landon was right - walking on eggshells was exhausting. You pushed to your feet, pulse thrumming in double time and turned the knob on the cabin door with trembling fingers, steeling yourself for the ugly confrontation.

Lloyd didn’t look up when you shut the door. He was too engrossed in his laptop. You paused and took in his furrowed brow as he tapped the down arrow to scroll through a page. Finally, when it became clear he wasn’t going to acknowledge your presence until you demanded it, you stepped forward.

“Lloyd? I need to talk to you.”

His finger paused on the keyboard and even though he didn’t look up, you pressed forward.

“I didn’t tell you about the stalker because I thought Aiden was behind the messages and I didn’t want you to react impulsively. I figured he was upset about losing his job and had decided to take his frustration out on me. That’s why I got in touch with his father. It seemed like the most efficient way to handle things.”

Before you could continue, Lloyd’s scowl deepened, and he resumed tapping the keyboard.

“Where’s the transcript of my interviews with Dr. Nguyen? I thought I saved them to my files.”

“The interviews? Um… there should be a copy in your email.”

He grunted and began typing. A few clicks later, his chin tilted up.

“Found it.”

You pressed a hand to your hot cheek, took a deep breath, and marshaled your courage.

“Lloyd, I’m trying to talk to you. I want to explain-”

He wasn’t listening. His fingers were dancing over the keyboard and he was blatantly ignoring you. Peaking over his shoulder you saw the website of the local news station pulled up on the laptop.

“I need to catch this broadcast,” Lloyd said tersely.

Your shoulders slumped. Repressing a sigh, you sat down and decided to wait him out.

The anchor’s voice filled the small living room, announcing their lead story - a thunderstorm warning and flood watch. You settled in as they turned to their human interest story about Harmony High School students giving back to the community with a fundraiser for the local food bank. Then the ‘Breaking News’ banner appeared on screen and you sat up straighter as you read it.

“Now, to the latest developments in a breaking news story. The arrest of a suspected serial killer has stunned the community of Harmony, Virginia. Leo McKenzie, an evidence clerk with the State Police, has been taken into custody and charged with twelve counts of murder.”

You gasped.

“Hush, I’m trying to listen,” Lloyd said.

“The case drags up ghosts of the past. In 2003, Dr. Shun Nguyen attracted international attention to the town of Harmony when he was arrested and charged with the murder of his girlfriend. Nguyen was widely considered to be responsible for the rash of disappearances of several local women between 1999 and 2001, culminating in the murder of his girlfriend in 2002. However, his conviction for that crime was overturned in 2013…”

The reporter droned on as you watched, growing confused as the cameras showed the Fairfax County Sheriff arresting a man in his mid-sixties with graying blond hair. He was stocky and dressed in a rumpled green button down and khaki slacks. His expression was slack with shock as he was escorted to a Sheriff’s cruiser.

“McKenzie’s arrest has cast a fresh spotlight on these unsolved cases, igniting painful memories for the families affected. We’ll keep you updated on this developing story throughout the night. Stay tuned for more right here on-”

Lloyd muted the video. You turned to him and for the first time in days he met your gaze.

“Leo McKenzie? The guy who leaked information for the Rolling Stone article?”

“He’s not a bad suspect,” Lloyd said. “Zach found evidence that he’s tampered with evidence before. Plus, he went out of his way to de-stabilize our relationship with the Roth when he contacted Peter Shaw and framed us for leaking confidential information.”

“You think he’s the killer?”

“No. There’s a few holes in the logic, but I’m waiting to see if those can be resolved. The fact that he leaked information to journalists and tried to manipulate the narrative around the case is significant.”

You tried not to be surprised at how quickly Lloyd had gotten up to speed in a few days.

“This was a calculated move,” Lloyd said, his gaze returning to the muted news cast. “There’s enough agencies gunning for the credit on this case that it wouldn’t have taken much more than a well-timed tip-off to persuade the Fairfax Sheriff to make an arrest.”

You nodded. “Right.”

“It’s impressive, really,” Lloyd mused. “Zach is quite the strategist. I hadn’t planned on making a maneuver this bold, but if it gets McKenzie off the street…”

Your mouth fell open. “Zach is behind the arrest?”

“He didn’t run it by me, but I suspect this is what he’s coming up here to discuss. Leo McKenzie crossed him with that journalist and even though it probably wasn’t intended as a personal slight, Zach’s not the forgiving kind.”

“And I thought I was pissed off by Roth’s decision,” you murmured.

“Zach didn’t blame Roth. He went for the root cause of the problem: McKenzie.”

Put like that, the connection between Zach’s interference and Leo’s arrest was undoubtable. You glanced at the clock and saw that he’d be arriving soon. The deadline refocused you on your goal.

“Lloyd, as I was saying, I want to explain why I didn’t tell you what was going on. When I thought Aiden was responsible, I didn’t want to put you in a situation where you’d react before we’d gathered all the facts. I thought what I was doing was appropriate, but in retrospect…”

He stood up and paced to the window and stood there, staring at the driveway. You heard the crunch of wheels over gravel and understood what he was watching for. Zach had arrived. Your eyes closed on a wave of regret.

Great. Lloyd wasn’t listening to a word you had just said.

“Zach brought company.”

*****

Bishop and Detective Roth arrived with Zach.

They shuffled into the living room with the rugged-faced detective trailing behind. He was dressed exactly the same as he’d been the last two times you’d seen him. A white collared shirt, striped red tie, and his holstered weapon prominently displayed on his right hip. His nod of greeting to you was barely perceptible. In response, you crossed your arms over your chest.

Childish, perhaps, but you were still irritated with him and he was interrupting your conversation with Lloyd. Bishop made introductions and Lloyd and Roth immediately began sizing each other up like boxers dancing around a ring.

“I looked into your previous work, Mr. Hansen. You’re quite the character. It seems your investigative techniques involve more theatrics than actual evidence gathering.”

“And your speciality seems to be old cases and old gossip. Slow and methodical hasn’t paid off in the Nguyen case, now, has it?”

“Slow and methodical is standard procedure and I’m a standard procedure kind of guy. It helps me maintain my credibility, which reminds me, your kidnapping conviction got you disbarred, didn’t it?”

Lloyd smirked. “So, you’ve been through my international portfolio as well.”

Roth studied him with an inscrutable expression, then the corner of his lip twitched. “What did you have to do with Leo McKenzie’s arrest? The Sheriff wasn’t supposed to take him into custody until next week.”

“I’d love to take credit but it wasn’t me. However, McKenzie is at the top of my suspect list.”

“What position?” Roth asked.

“Second place.”

Bishop lips pursed. “I can’t believe Sheriff Cerano swept in and arrested him so quickly, considering the history of this case.”

“He’s got enough evidence to hold him, thanks to my team,” Detective Roth said.

“What are the charges?” Zach asked.

“Tampering with evidence, improper release of classified information, and other charges related to his conduct as an evidence clerk. I’d like to apologize for jumping to conclusions and accusing the two of you.”

You uncrossed your arms.

“Are we good?” Roth asked you.

You tilted your head. “Consider yourself on probationary forgiveness. I’ll let you know in a few days if it becomes permanent.”

Roth looked at Lloyd. “Is she always so hardheaded?”

“Sometimes. Usually it’s directed at me, so this is a nice change of pace. Let’s sit down and compare notes.”

Despite the earlier verbal sparring, or perhaps because of it, Lloyd and Roth put aside their differences and shifted into professional mode as everyone assembled in the living room.

“I consider Leo McKenzie our prime suspect,” Detective Roth said.

Bishop scowled. “Why?”

“There’s long term storage of the surveillance camera footage in the evidence lockers. We were able to confirm that McKenzie wasn’t at work on the night of April 18th.”

“Was he scheduled to work?” Zach asked.

“Yes, swing shift, but he swapped with a co-worker. The co-worker reports McKenzie told them he was going to a concert,’” Roth said.

Lloyd crossed his legs. “A concert in the middle of the week? That’s ridiculous. Is there any other evidence against him?”

“He owns a .22 caliber rifle and matches the description of the person Mr. Corbin saw at Shun’s house on that same night, April 18th. He’s been known to smoke occasionally and frequented the same coffee shop where Julia’s book club met.”

“What about access to the chemicals to dissolve her corpse?” Lloyd asked.

“His work as an evidence clerk might explain that,” Bishop said.

“Technically speaking, all the ingredients he needed are available over the counter,” Roth said.

Lloyd grunted. “What about knowledge of the area where the bodies were dumped?”

“He kayaks up there every summer and his uncle used to work in the concrete industry,” Roth said. “At the moment he’s our top suspect. The Sheriff was preparing to arrest him on charges of improperly handling evidence and obstruction of justice. That’s sufficient to hold him for a long while. Virginia law enforcement jointly decided that everyone would be safer if he was off the streets.”

“So, if you have your man, why are you here?” Lloyd said.

“Because knowing he had the opportunity, means, and access to commit a crime isn’t the same thing as being able to prove he did it. That’s why I need your help. We have a window of opportunity to prove a solid case against him, but it won’t be easy. Bishop and I have discussed it with my superiors and we’re inviting you down to Harmony on a full-time basis to assist with the investigation. You’ll even get your own shared office.”

“It’s the conference room, isn’t it?” Zach asked.

“A windowless conference room,” Roth said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

The Detective’s gaze shifted to you and he tilted his head. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’m very interested in seeing the database you were working on for the case.”

*****

The guests stayed for dinner but left quickly afterwards to get back before the storm made landfall. Lloyd took a walk down to the river and you retreated to the living room where Landon was relaxing with his feet up.

“I take it apologizing didn’t go well?”

You sighed. “It didn’t go at all.”

“How come?”

“He wouldn’t hear me out. I managed three half apologies but he wouldn’t let me finish.”

“Are you going to try again, or call it a night?” Landon asked.

Your shoulders straightened. Where was your spine? Sure, all things considered, you weren’t at the top of your game this week, but the ability to make Lloyd listen was a skill you’d mastered a long time ago. If you couldn’t get through to him, then you had lost more of your self-confidence than you’d realized.

“I’m going down to the river.”

“Have fun…”

Lloyd was easy to find. He was on a bench by the water with a legal pad on his knee, reading a handful of loose leaf pages. As he read, he paused every now and then to consult his legal pad and twirl a pen around his fingers. You paused at the bottom of the concrete stairs that led down to the river basin and watched him from a distance.

His alabaster complexion was darker than usual from a summer of golfing and the week spent on the ranch. His thick hair ruffled a little in the wind because he hadn’t worn as much hair gel at the cabin, choosing to smooth his hair back instead of plastering it into place like usual.

You liked the more relaxed look on him. You wished the image matched his mood but the rigidity in his shoulders proved he was just as tense as he’d been since Tuesday.

When you approached he tucked the pages into his legal pad and clipped the pen to the pad. You sat down on the far end of the bench, leaving an arm’s length between you. The wind carried the scent of pine trees and the smell of rain hung in the air as storm clouds amassed in the southeast. The atmosphere between you held a quiet tension, an undercurrent of repressed anger. The gusting winds that rustled the leaves seemed to echo the mood. You shivered as a gust of wind cut through your blouse.

Lloyd leaned back. “You didn’t need to come all the way down here. It’s getting cold.”

“I’m fine,” you said, wrapping your arms around your torso. “I wanted to apologize. I guess my timing this afternoon wasn’t great. I was only halfway through when Zach arrived.”

“I was still too pissed at you to listen.”

“I gathered as much. I’m sorry for not telling you about the stalking. It was wrong of me to cover it up, especially for as long as I did.”

He sighed, eyes drifting to fixate on the water. “What was it? You thought I’d over react?”

Your hands twisted in your lap. “Yes. Your temper is a force of nature and you don’t have a great sense of self-preservation under the best conditions. You dive headfirst into danger without considering the consequences or your odds of survival.”

“Princess, I’ve faced much worse threats than a vertically challenged lunatic with sharp elbows. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do worry about you! I know you can take care of yourself, but as your friend it’s my job to protect you, too - including from yourself! When I decided not to tell you what was going on, that’s what I thought I was doing. After what happened on Tuesday, I know how wrong that was. I’m sorry for hurting you by holding back something I should’ve shared with you as soon as I was aware of it.”

“What was the other half of your apology? I think we got to about this point before I cut you off.”

“I’m sorry for not trusting you to respond with restraint and assuming you’d fly off the handle. Overall, you’ve taken this a lot more calmly than I thought you would.”

His left eyebrow arched. “Calmly? If you hadn’t willingly gotten in the car on Tuesday afternoon, I’d have thrown you in the trunk.”

“And compared to what I thought you might do, that was a very restrained reaction.”

Lloyd snorted. “Don’t be so sure. If Aiden had been your stalker I’d gladly have taken him apart with my bare hands. That’s part of what pissed me off. Your reasons for not telling me were valid. As much as I wanted to tear into you for it, I can’t deny that point. I guess I feel more disappointed than anything. I’ve always struggled with honesty, but with you, it was easy. I didn’t realize that trust was a one-way street.”

You groaned. “If this is you ‘not tearing into me’ I’d hate to have seen what you had in mind earlier.”

He shifted closer and a thick arm curled around your shoulders. You snuggled into his chest as another gust of wind kicked up.

“I really am sorry,” you said. “I’ll say it as many times as you want.”

“Since I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder for the past three days, I think we can call it even.”

You squeezed his waist and burrowed into his arms. “I promise to be more honest with you, even when I’m worried about your reaction.”

His lips brushed your temple. “I’ll try not to sulk so long next time you decide to bottle things up.”

“Is that a whiff of skepticism I’m sensing? You don’t think I’ll be honest?”

“You protect others, Princess. It’s in your nature. But your takeaway from this experience needs to be that lies of omission aren’t how you protect me, or yourself. I need you and I…”

Love you.

Your heart leapt as you filled in the next words, holding your breath to hear him say them for the first time.

“Was that a drop of rain?” Lloyd said.

*****

You and Lloyd made it back to the front porch of the cabin just as the clouds opened up and poured rain down in buckets. Both of you had escaped the worst of the onslaught, but droplets went flying when Lloyd shook out his hair. You squealed when the water hit your face.

“Sorry, honey,” he said, and held open the door for you.

There was no sight of Landon in the living room, so you assumed he’d retreated to the basement.

Lloyd led you upstairs to the loft which housed the master bedroom. He tossed his legal pad on the bed and went to retrieve towels from the bathroom. You stripped off your wet clothes in the closet and found a clean t-shirt of Lloyd's to slip on. When he came out of the bathroom with the towels, you were sitting on the bed leafing through his legal pad.

“Who’s Tate Corbin?”

“You remember Nguyen’s across the street neighbor? Mr. Corbin?”

“Yes. These notes are about him?”

Lloyd rubbed the towel across his damp hair.

“Yeah. Corbin doesn’t have a file, officially at least, so I’ve spent the past couple days putting one together.”

“Why?”

“Because after l reviewed everything Zach has collected on McKenzie, there was one glaring problem. Leo McKenzie isn’t good at chemistry. He failed the class in high school and took the easiest science credit he could in college: Biology 101 for general studies. He passed with a C minus.”

“Not everyone can be a scientific genius.”

“I doubt our killer is a scientific genius, but they know the basics of chemicals, either by trade or education. The brittle bones that were observed in Julia’s remains and the lack of bodies from the remains from the other nine victims points to a chemical dissolution process of some kind. Leo McKenzie doesn’t have the knowledge to perform that kind of a reaction.”

You made a face of disgust at the imagery his words brought to mind and scanned through the file.

“It says he wasn’t named as a person of interest in 2002. Why wasn’t he a suspect?”

“Actually, the first responding officer did raise suspicions about Mr. Corbin. When he answered the door the next evening - this wasn’t long after Shun was taken in for his first round of questioning - he appeared sweaty and pale. Mr. Corbin attributed it to being on a new blood pressure medication.”

“Did he work with chemicals?” you asked.

“He was a merchant marine in the 50s and 60s, working for companies like Odfjell and Stolt-Nielsen.”

“What does that have to do with the case?”

Lloyd’s grin widened. “Odfjell and Stolt-Nielsen were chemical tanker companies. left the industry in the late 60s and settled down in Fredericksburg. He got married, had two kids, and in 1975 the family moved to Harmony where Corbin started a contracting business. His specialty was laying foundations. Between the physical nature of his work and a penchant for jogging and hiking, Corbin stayed in excellent shape. He even hiked the Appalachian Trail from start to finish in 2003.”

“This is interesting, but what about the evidence Roth and Zach collected against Leo?”

Lloyd shrugged. “He’s worth investigating. I’m open to the possibility that he’s the killer, if evidence comes to light that he knew enough chemistry to dissolve a body. But the way Shun reacted when you questioned him about who the killer might be has stuck in my head. He was clearly afraid of someone, so I’ve been trying to figure out who.”

“Right, I noticed that too. He was visibly shaken when I told him about the second body.”

“Shun’s social circle wasn’t extensive, which narrows the potential suspects to his coworkers and a handful of other associates. When I couldn’t establish a connection between Shun and Leo, I kept searching, which led me to Tate Corbin. The guy is a towering ex-sailor with a linebacker’s shoulders. If he posed a threat to Shun, it could explain why Shun didn’t fight the charges harder or point the finger at another suspect.”

You flipped to Corbin’s demographics page and checked the data. “But Tate is eighty-three years old now. Why wouldn’t Shun just take his story to the media?”

“Remember his reaction to hearing about the second body? Someone - probably the killer - put the fear of God in him. Besides, to Corbin, age is just a number. He’s still running half marathons and 10ks.”

“Holy smoke. Do you have his times? Like, is he any good?”

“He’s placing ahead of runners who are a third of his age. The cincher for me is that there’s only one person whose presence at the house on the evening of April 18th can be verified. By his own admission, Tate was at the crime scene and reported seeing a ‘very large man’ lurking around. Conveniently, Tate Corbin is a very large man.”

“You think he lied to the police?”

Lloyd chuckled. “I don’t think he anticipated the interrogation. When he was caught off guard, his brain couldn’t compose an entirely fictional story, so instead of lying outright, he just bent the truth.”

“Should we bring Roth into the loop?”

“Let’s continue piecing things together over the weekend. We’ll let the news about Leo circulate and make sure Tate has a chance to see it. And since we’re relocating to Roth’s conference room on Monday, we can present our findings to him then. I want to have a clearer picture of the case against Tate to make sure he merits our attention before we discuss it with Roth.”

You looked down, pretending to read, and hid a smile at Lloyd’s final comment. Evidently, Roth’s barb about theatrics had stuck its target.

“That sounds like a plan. I think working together will be good for you two.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. He’s such an asshole.”

“Mmmhhh. A real piece of work.”

Irrespective of the investigation, Monday promised to be an exciting day. The anticipation of the clash between Lloyd and Roth brought a real smile to your face for the first time in days. And as fiery as their reaction to each other might be, you had a suspicion that they might turn out to be an excellent team - if they didn’t kill each other first.

*****

Next - Chapter XX

*****

Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

@denisemarieangelina

@before-we-get-started

@buckysteveloki-me

@patzammit

@badassbaker

@meetmeatyourworst

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@thiskindahotkindamusic

@jesgisborne

@charmingprincess

@amiets2

@seitmai

@elle14-blog1

@chaoticsteverogers

@kaleidoscopepov

@fangirl-and-doctor-help

@jesevans

@openup-yourmind

@kandierteveilchen

@adoreyouusugar

@awkwardgiraffe726

@pono-pura-vida

@mysweetlittledesire

@liecastillo

@marantha

@literaturelove

@babyevansblog

@lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa

@thegirlnextdoorssister

@ladygrey03

@cynic-spirit

@rosedpetal

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@bambamwolf87

@yiiiikesmish

@calwitch

@peachiestevie

@texmexdarling

@here4thefanfics

@rogersbarber

@spikeluv84

@dear-fifi

@crayongirl-linz

@bigcreatorwombatdreamer

#the princess and the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #Lloyd Hansen x princess #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd x princess #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen au #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fanfiction #chris evans characters x reader #chris evans charaters #chris evans characters fanfic #no minors #minors dni

113 notes · View notes

stromy-weather · 7 months

Text

Husband Akutagawa

I love this man so much he deserves the world....<3

Got these promots from my bot, but I just want to special rant about how I feel they would be as a husband. There is no mention of a strict gender but pregnancy is mentioned. Mention of smut.

How did you end up with him?

God only knows why seriously he questions it when he lays awake, staring at your peaceful sleeping face. Some night as he holds you so close.

He may be cold-hearted, but he is not a monster he is human after all. Or to what he thinks he is. He tends to be very hesitant with his touch. He practically touches you as your glass scared you, just nothing. That he is going to lose you if he is not careful.

He doesn't know how to show affection, but he tries. You are his first lover and well now last. He makeing sure nothing happens to you.

Protects you with his life. He doesn't give a shit about his being at the time. He would literally kill for you.

Slow dancing to slow dance with you to classical music...he just feels calmed by them...

If you don't kiss him on the lip after a while, be would be confused. He doesn't know how to ask for affection without getting flustered, so he might just pull you into a kiss with a slightly pink on his face. It might end in a harsh kiss since he would just slam your face into his. He doesn't know how to kiss well, ok? He is trying, ok. :(

He liked a big scary dog when behind you, but when you looked/faced him. He melts inside, eyes soften, he could just scoop you up and take you home.

The wedding ring he wears he never takes off. No one, and I mean no one, can say shit about it before he uses his ability to kill them if they say something negative.

You are his home. He keeps you safe. Given his work in the Mafia. Home is where you are, your his comfort and peace after a very long day of work.

Sometimes, he loses his cool and yells at you, but he oplgozes after. He doesn't mean too he is just very stressed. Never raise a hand to hit you, but would yell at pent-up stress. Poor baby doesn't know how to control his emotions well.

Would never want to see fear on your face. Only happiness. The very same reason why he fell in love with you and asked you to marry him. You see something in him that he can't. And the feeling of letting someone else get that light doesn't stick right with him.

He doesn't smother you and wishes not to be smother[mabye if he to stress of life and needs a break] but wouldn't mind the fact. He respectfully to your space as you are to his.

He is very overprotective/jealous levels high for his own good. Well, he has you all to himself that he doesn't plan on sharing. death glare at the person. The only person who can touch you is his sister Gin freely, that is. Would use Rashōmon to throw a bitch. Don't test this, man.

Don't even mention Atsushi man hates that man in a way. No words of another man's name come from your mouth unless it is his own.....please he have bad trust issues.

He doesn't want kids. Nope. Have you seen what he does for a living? He literally kills people. He only tolerates a certain amount of people and some underlings, Gin and you. But it's just maybe a small. A really small part hopes for it when he decides he wants to get down to an actual family.

Lives off of your affection, praise - just love in general even if he doesn't act like it. See it as the highest praise he can get.

Would use Rashōmon to gently pull you if he wants attention or when something happens. He gladly uses it to spin you in his direction if you stop paying attention to him. It makes him feel there are other uses to his ability than using it for blood shed.

Going off that you're busy and haven't given him attention or he needs your presence. He uses his ability to pull you close.

He doesn't see points at affection. Kiss him gross. Do it again.

Hand holding calms him, rub you hand in his hair he will melt.

Just have your body near him and he would be the most happiest man ever.

Please take good care of this boy. He very overwork a lot.

Can cook and clean, but sometimes it becomes a lot because of his lungs. Does his best. Gin probably lives with you guys, so she helps out alot aswell.

Preferably like to be the big spoon, but if anything, and he is tired as shit he wouldn't say it but a small spoon as he hides away in your chest. Listing to their heartbeat as he drifts off to sleep, holding you close.

If drunk, he is very cuddling and quiet. He only wants you around no one else. He is more open when drunk about it his feelings. Or would slur a lot of words. Using Rashōmon yet again to keep your near.

When lovemaking, I feel like he might be a top now before he stays a dominant bottom only because he is so scared of hurting you when you two are dating. Now that both of you are married, he doesn't mind being top... seeing your face as you make oh so wonderful noises for him drives him crazy. He goes gently but can grow rough. Doesn't mind using his rashomon on you...

He lives a pretty good life. He gets paid a good he is rich amount. Like really man rich if anything. He lives in a simple apartment since he doesn't see the need for extra stuff like pools or any of the fancy stuff. Just a simple place he can rest with you and Gin happily from problems.

"... you know... you should laugh like that more...it's...not bad..."

"Keep your hands away from what's not yours. I believe they said they aren't interested."

"Stay with me...?"

NSFW.

if he is stressed, he probably goes rough, but he asks so many times in ahead to make sure you're ok with this. He may be stressed, but he is not going to be full-on hurt his lover.

Probably have a safe word to make sure if anything goes too far.

"What happened to yo- hm- your hot mouth? What cat got your tongue? Speak up, brat."

" I love you...hm..."

Proff read- nope

#strom story's #bsd #bsd fluff #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bungo stay dogs #bsd smut

66 notes · View notes

ruthlesslistener · 2 years

Text

a crisis of complexion

Or, a short drabble in which a very distracted Pale King has to confront one of the difficulties of hybrid parenthood that he'd seen on the horizon since before the Deepnest Queen's clutch was even laid. Even then, he manages to botch it up in the only way he can- by being himself.

(Set in the Wasteland Wanderers AU, a scenario where PK carried Hornet's egg, but was forced to flee to the wastes after a premature attack from the Radiance made it impossible for him to stay in Hallownest. The main, self-indulgent focus of the AU is on PK living as his ancestors might, and rearing Hornet as a wyrm would, despite his own misgivings.)

"Baba?"

The Pale Wyrm blinked, raising his head from his meal to stare back at his daughter, gazing at him from across the den. Her claws glimmered with soul-rich silk, shards of sharpened carapace twined with it to create a half-formed shuriken, but her gaze was focused on the husk in his claws, chelicerae scrunched in thought. "Why can you eat the rotting meat, but I can't?"

Ah. He should have known this day would come- it had been looming on the horizon since he'd first had the presence of mind to begin worrying over her egg, but the visions that his foresight had granted him had been...divisive, to say the least. He had decided to put those thoughts aside to focus on more pressing matters, but time had snuck up on him all the same, and now he was left unarmed, jowls full of days-old boofly that had commanded his attention instead of his daughter's distant frown.

He licked the dripping gore off his fangs while he thought of a reply, not missing the way that his hatchling's mouthparts scrunched in disgust. It was a difference between them that she surely hadn't missed either, and so he decided to opt for the simplest answer before she could have a chance to change the subject. "It is because I am a full wyrm, and you are not. If I had bred with one of my kind, then you would be able to eat anything just as I, but that is not the case with you. Your mother was a spider, and spiders are hunters. They cannot eat anything but fresh-kill."

(In truth, she likely could digest old flesh, but he hadn't been willing to let her try. It felt like it was only yesterday that her venom had finally grown strong enough for her to eat without him first softening the meat, and he hadn't the heart to leave the nest to starve her into eating old kills, like his mother had done to him.)

(She was not a wyrm, like he was. She did not need to learn how to manage her hunger, to grow content with the emptiness inside of him like he had done when he was her age.)

Wild-heart-sharp-fang’s face scrunched even further. Soon, she would grow to the age where she would shed her hatchling name, and take on the one that the bee queen had given to her, in a future that no longer existed. Still, he would honour the spider queen's wishes, if only to prevent his inevitable dismemberment upon their return. If she was there when they returned. “We haven’t hunted spiders before. Why was my mother a spider, when we eat anything that is not like us?”

Ah, the pitfalls of growing up away from civilization. The Pale King exhaled slowly, careful not to let his breath waft in her direction, and tried to structure a response that would make sense to her. It was difficult, for it was a dilemma that he himself had faced for centuries- that fine balance between the desire to protect those below them, and to view them as little more than prey, fresh for the slaughter. “They are one of the civilized races, the ones that I have spoken of to you before. We do not hunt them, because they do not exist where we roam. Only wyrms and feederbugs pass by our home.”

He scraped a claw along the underside of the beetle’s carapace, parting it easily from the meat. It came away slick, dripping with juices, but he tolerated its greasy cling; the carapace, when cleaned and dried, would make for an excellent storage bowl, and the flesh that remained was sweet and soft. “I have told you about your mother. That should be reason enough to understand why I did not hunt her. One of such intimidating stature should be given respect. She may not have been a wyrm, like me, but that did not mean that her bite was any less sharp, or her territory-claim any less strong. Now tell me- what of my tales of her do you remember most?”

“She was a great queen.” Wild-heart’s voice was soft, but the frown still lingered on her face. “Like you were a great king, even though they’re really just the same thing in the end. Is that why I have venom, then, and you don’t? And why I can jump higher than you can, but don’t have wings?”

“That is a correct assumption, child.” A stir of warmth in his chest- pride. His daughter was already fierce and quick, but it was her intellect that he was most proud of- that cunning mind would serve her well in the days ahead. If only she was in Hallownest, where he would have tutors and watchers aplenty to teach her all the knowledge she needed to rule…here, all he could do was tell her stories of the life that she had lost, and hope that it was enough to keep the wild from swallowing her whole. “We differ for many reasons. In some cases, this causes problems- like you wanting to chase our meals, while I prefer to wait for them to pass by so that I might ambush them instead. But in many cases, this is an advantage. Your mother desired for you to have the traits of both wyrm and spider, and you are an excellent presentation of them both.”

She nodded, but was silent, her eyes fixed on the thread between her claws. He recognized this as her time for processing the information, and returned to his meal, scraping the shell of the beetle with his mandibles while he sunk his claws into the sandy earth to clean them. He would have to bring the actual shell to the surface to clean out the remains of the meat and buff the carapace into something usable, but he could have Wild-heart- Hornet, he had to get used to her adult name before he made her hatchling-name a habit she would not outgrow- do that for him. They were getting low on fresh meat, and while her aim had gotten better, she was still not yet strong enough to take down prey large enough for them both-

In a small voice, she asked, “Do you want me to be different?"

The world came to a screeching halt. He froze, and found his tongue frozen as well. A million different futures branched out before him, but his mind was caught in the past, staring out before a million other possibilities that had slipped between his fingers like so many meager grains of sand.

Corpses in the Abyss. Broken masks, shattered eggshells. Children, dead by the millions.

His children. His lover's children. Heirs of Hallownest all, taken first by void and then by death. Dead twice, because of him.

Spider fangs flashing in the dark. Whispered promises dripping with venom, a blood pact sealed with the blessing of his lady and the tactical hunger that plagued every wyrm with territory ripe for them to snatch. He had quenched that hunger with offerings of silk and song, but still…

Eggs in his womb. Not the dead weights of the dud clutches he'd grown used to, but kindled. Alive, as his others were not, born from a pact that he held no love for.

Agony in the Wastelands, the smell of his own blood and fluids thick in the air, and the terrifying, soul-rendering realization that no matter what happened, no matter the pain and the loneliness that would come from a life of hardship, he would take it all in exchange for just one of his hatchlings surviving. Centuries of pain and torment buried away, ignored for the greater good of a people abandoned, all uprooted and thrown into his face while he groveled like an animal in the pangs of labor.

She had been the only one who had survived.

"...You are exactly as you need to be," he finally whispered, and tried not to look at the way she stared down at her lap, as if his moment of silence was damning enough. She was his. He loved her. He loved her selfishly, this misbegotten wedlock-child who was conceived only for political gain. and he could not say it. "What I want was, and always has been, irrelevant. The flow of your fate, influenced as it is by my presence, should not be mine to command. Nor should I make demands of it."

She was silent for a while, as he had been. Then she nodded, gathered up the shards of her shuriken, and crawled quietly up through the winding tunnel leading to the outside, towards the fading sunlight. Whether or not his words had touched her, he could not say- she was his daughter as much as Herrah's, a child, not a hatchling, and her heart would never again be worn so readily on her sleeve.

He closed his eyes, coiled up tight against the cool darkness of the burrow he'd made for them, and waited for the pain in his heart to pass him by. Then, with a beleaguered sigh, he picked up the carapace plates from the remnants of their meal, and set to scrubbing them free of flesh.

Maybe if he scoured them long enough, dug his talons in deep enough, the sands would swallow him too.

#hollow knight #pale king #the pale king #hornet hk #hk hornet #my writing #my fic #wasteland wanderers au #this is short and sweet but ive been hooked on this idea for a while now #love thinking about the logistics of pk surviving in the wastes and how only seeing him + hunting all other bugs might affect hornet

198 notes · View notes

mouseywrites · 6 months

Text

Ask: I'm definitely intelligent and didn't forget to specify things and I've definitely not been thinking about it but being too afraid to send another ask--

tfp ratchet if that's ok ;w; and just. random fluffy bullshit. maybe ratchet insisting on making a "proper" resting spot for a reader who lives in the base with them. and it just happens to be next to his workstation where he can keep an eye on them.

Keeping Tabs - Ratchet and Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 626

As a human member of the Autobot team, you took your job very seriously. It wasn’t simple. At least, not as simple as one would think. You cared for the kids, offered a listening ear to the bots, and even gave some helpful advice of your own. True, they were giant, alien robots, but they could still use a pep talk every once in a while. Given their respective trauma from war, you understood why they needed to hear some uplifting words. Whether they would listen or not, however, was completely up to them.

Ratchet, the medic of the team, didn’t really bother to listen to you. Well, not at first. After spending several months at base with him, he grew to tolerate your presence and words with grumbles and vents.

It was tough work, juggling between your daily life and secret life with the Autobots. However, you managed just fine, always returning to the Cybertronian you trusted the most. Ratchet.

Although a grump, he certainly cared about you. It was easy to see. He fussed over your bad habits, but all in good faith. Whenever you pointed out his softness, he tended to scoff and roll his optics, but that was okay. He cared and so did you. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

Overtime, however, things changed with your living situation, and Optimus Prime offered his base as a place for you to stay. You agreed, knowing that you wouldn’t be accepted anywhere else. All of the Autobots appeared to accept your presence as a normal fact of life.

Well, all of them, except for Ratchet. He was different.

…

“Raaatchet, why’d you wake me up?”

You yawned, stretching out of his servo and onto the catwalk. With soft hands, you gripped onto the railing and glanced at the blinking monitors above you with tired eyes.

Before your attention could linger on his workstation, you looked to the side.

“What is this?”

On the platform, there was a makeshift bed. It was fluffy and covered in blankets and pillows. Not only that, but there was also a bedside lamp on a chest of drawers. You blinked, processing the sight.

“Did you make this for me?”

Ratchet turned to you with a nod.

“Of course.”

You gawked, releasing the railing to brush your hands against the blankets. They were warm, much warmer than you thought possible. Everything was neat and proper, containing all that you needed in order to sleep.

“How did you…? Why did you…? Ratchet, you shouldn’t have. I mean-“

“Ep! Ep! Ep!” He dismissed you with a wave of his servo. “From now on, you will rest here.”

Befuddled, you lifted a brow.

“But I already have my own room. What made you want to fix something new for me?”

For a moment, the old bot paused and pondered to himself. His optics, bright and cyan, flickered away from your gaze.

“I just…thought it wise to keep a closer tab on you.”

Oh, so that was it. He wanted to look out for you in his own way. Well, now you couldn’t be upset. Amused, you set your hands on your hips and sent him a smirk.

“Couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

Ratchet scowled lightly.

“Yes, well. Forgive me. I want you to test it.” He glanced at the bed. “Now, don’t mind me. Go back to sleep.”

You nodded, your smirk softening to a smile. Slowly, you climbed under the sheets and rested your head to the pillows. You covered yourself with the blankets and sighed, welcoming the warmth.

“Comfortable?”

You beamed at him.

“Absolutely. Thanks, Ratch.”

The medic grunted, trying to hide his smile by turning the other way.

“...happy to be of assistance.”

#transformers prime #reader insert #ratchet #ratchet and reader #my reader insert fics #mouseyindulgence

7 notes · View notes

tenebraevesper · 6 months

Text

Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 16: My Curse

''So here we are, my body inside this nightmare. Don't you stare for too long at my curse. It happened too fast, what happened in the past is something I would constantly rehearse. I'M AGGRESSIVE! NIGHTMARE UNLEASHED! FEAST YOUR EYES ON MY MAGNETIC, DEMISE BENEATH, ALL THE TATTERED WIRES, YOUR FUTILE DEMISE WILL BECOME YOUR CURSE!''

– I'm The Purple Guy by DAGames (Five Nights at Freddy's 3)

xXxXxXx

''Honestly, I don't get it,'' Sam said as she and Springtrap walked into her yard. ''Why would anyone believe that this is possible?''

''Even if what happened was considered to be some kind of scary story, that doesn't mean that everyone will consider it to be just a bunch of rumors,'' Springtrap replied.

''I understand that, but still…'' Sam said as she opened the door.

''Hey, Sam!''

Springtrap froze when he heard Emma's voice coming from the living room. He completely forgot that she would be at home, probably still awake and waiting for them to return. Sam, on the other hand, didn't look at all disturbed by that fact.

''Hi, Mum!'' she said cheerfully, then glanced back at Springtrap, who sighed and walked inside. He saw that Emma was sitting on the couch, watching some TV show. She got up, giving them a curious look.

''So, have you found what you searched for?'' she asked as she approached them, carefully observing Sam. Springtrap had the feeling that she wanted to make sure that Sam didn't suffer from any other injuries.

''In a way,'' Sam replied, glancing at Springtrap. ''We'll be upstairs if you need us.''

''Okay,'' Emma said, crossing her arms and smirking. Sam went upstairs, while Springtrap lingered a little, noticing Emma's questioning look.

''Honestly, I don't know whether I could get used to this,'' he said.

''Neither do I,'' Emma replied in an icy tone.

Springtrap shuddered, knowing well that, in order to keep Sam happy, they'd have to tolerate each other's presence. Whether they wanted it or not, both had come to the terms that they would have to let it work out somehow. Ironically, both of them wanted to keep Sam safe and happy, but they felt that they could do that without the presence of the other.

''In any case, she's a lot more joyful than she used to be,'' Emma said, her stern gaze softening as she glanced upstairs and then back at Springtrap. ''Whenever I told her to liven up a little, she would always give me that dead-eyed look. I mean, you could find more cheer on a graveyard.''

''I can imagine that,'' Springtrap muttered.

''Now, it feels as if someone flipped a switch,'' Emma added, snapping her fingers. ''I understand that this is because of you, but I still have no clue why she likes you so much.''

''To be honest, I don't know either,'' Springtrap told her, with Emma rising an eyebrow. ''I understand that you don't want me here, and I probably would've been long gone if it weren't for Sam insisting on me staying here…''

''You don't have to explain anything, I get it,'' Emma said, noticing Springtrap's confused expression. ''If there was something wrong, she would've already asked for my help. As much as I'd gladly incinerate you, I won't do that for her sake.''

''You have a lot more patience than anyone else in your situation would have,'' Springtrap said. Emma smiled.

''I'll take that as a compliment,'' she said, with Springtrap giving her a curious look. He had expected her to threaten him again, but it seemed that she had accepted the situation the way it was. However, he shuddered when he saw her gaze suddenly changing to a more serious one. ''Listen, Afton, I told you that I have decided to give you a chance, regardless of your past actions. If you screw up, what happens afterwards is going to be your own damn fault and you're certainly not getting another chance.''

''I know,'' Springtrap said in a quiet tone, feeling like a child who got scolded by their parent for trying to touch a hot stove. ''You wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't perceive me as a danger to Sam. Not only because I hurt her, but also because of what I had done in my past.''

''Exactly,'' Emma said. ''Unless you want to show that you're not the same man you used to be.''

Springtrap gave her a look that was a mix of surprise and curiosity. He wanted to question her further, but was stopped when he heard Sam calling for him.

''Spring, are you coming?''

''I'll be there soon,'' he replied, then looked back at Emma, who looked quite calm, if not even content. He gave her a determined look. ''Rest assured, I am not going to hurt Sam. I'd rather go back to Hell than do that.''

''Then, I hope you won't have to go back to Hell,'' Emma said, with Springtrap looking stunned. She then walked away to lock the door and continue watching whatever TV show was on it. Springtrap just stood there, trying to process what Emma told him. He smiled, a confident look on his expression, and went upstairs.

Sam had already changed in her PJs, sitting on her bed and looking at her smartphone. She looked up once Springtrap entered the room, looking eager.

''Are you okay?'' she asked him as he sat down on the other end of her bed.

''I think so,'' he said, then glanced at her. ''I just feel a little lost.''

''Did Mum threaten you again?'' Sam asked.

''Not really,'' he said. ''She actually made me appreciate your support even more.''

''What did she say?'' Sam asked curiously, albeit she did sound a little suspicious.

''I just told her that I'd rather go to Hell than hurt you, and she told me that she hopes that I won't go to Hell then,'' Springtrap said, then fell silent. ''I understand that she said that because she's worried about you getting hurt, but…''

''I think she also understands that you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if that ever happened,'' Sam said in a sympathetic tone.

''Yeah…'' Springtrap muttered, with his green and silver eyes then lighting up. ''In any case, we have another issue to deal with, like the Raven.''

''True,'' Sam said. ''You said that there was something different about the Raven.''

''I am convinced that he is indeed haunted, as the evidence points towards that conclusion, but something just doesn't feel right,'' Springtrap said, frowning as he thought about it. He simply couldn't explain why he had this odd feeling. ''Speaking of which, my guess is that maybe someone died in a work-related accident.''

''You mean, being killed by the animatronic?'' Sam said. ''It wouldn't be the first time it happened.''

''Or maybe not,'' Springtrap muttered. The animatronic was haunted, he was certain about that. However, his feeling told him that this wasn't quite the case. Still, the scream he heard and the strange, distorted face he saw told him otherwise. ''Honestly, I'm not sure whether that animatronic is really haunted or not.''

''Even if it isn't, it is clear that something went wrong and people wanted to forget about that animatronic,'' Sam said. ''Still, if they wanted to forget Raven, why keeping him at Ricky's? Why not leave him at the Machinations Factory? Although, it is possible that Ricky's actor brought him there.''

''Not to mention, he returned to probably check on him. Still, you said that it wouldn't be necessary anymore to go there after hours,'' Springtrap said, giving Sam a questioning look.

''We have the photos of the documents, we know that there had been some incident and we know that Ricky's actor killed a guy. For now, that should be enough information,'' Sam said. ''Now, we need to focus on what exactly happened at the Machinations Factory.''

''Do you already have something in mind?'' Springtrap asked her.

''Not really, but I'll figure something out,'' Sam replied, albeit sounding quite excited.

Springtrap was really glad to see her like this. Surprisingly, he felt quite relaxed, despite what had happened the previous night and this morning. He guessed that this was because of Sam's encouragement and the fact that he didn't feel so stressed out over the possibility of having to leave her. I feel like it has been ages since I didn't have to worry so much about everything.

xXx

Later that night, Springtrap was pacing in the guest room, or rather, his room. He wasn't sure whether to call it that, but considering that he wouldn't be leaving so soon, he figured he could get used to that idea. He was quite sure that Sam probably wouldn't have anything against it, but Emma was a different case, which is why he decided to keep that idea to himself.

The reason why he felt so restless was because the image of Raven kept popping up in his mind. He just couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something familiar about Raven's situation, but he couldn't remember where he had seen it before, that is, if he had seen it before.

I'm certain that I have experienced this before, but I just can't figure out when that happened.

He suddenly stopped and looked up when the door opened. To his surprise, it was Emma who apparently decided to check on him before she went to sleep.

''Hey, Afton, you're still awake?'' she asked. Springtrap shrugged.

''Even if I could fall asleep, I have an issue I need to deal with first,'' he told her. Emma's eyes narrowed.

''What kind of issue?''

''I have this weird feeling that there is something I should know or remember, which is connected with this issue. However, I simply cannot figure out what exactly it is,'' Springtrap replied.

''I see,'' Emma muttered, thinking for a bit. ''Have you tried to associate other things you do remember with this feeling? Maybe you can narrow down what exactly you were meant to know or remember this way. It always works with me.''

''Maybe I could,'' Springtrap said as he thought about her suggestion. ''Thanks, Emma.''

''You can thank me by not getting yourself into trouble,'' Emma replied, with Springtrap giving her an anxious look. She smiled. ''Good night!''

Springtrap sighed once she closed the door.

''Why me?''

He shook his head, figuring he should concentrate on what Emma told him.

So, Sam and I have assumed that Raven is probably haunted. However, I feel that this might not be completely true, but I don't know why. Therefore, I need to figure out why I have this feeling.

He looked down at his hands and at the animatronic suit that was now his body.

When it comes to haunted animatronics, the soul needs to be connected to the particular animatronic in some way.

He closed his eyes, trying visualize the animatronics he knew that they had at some point a soul attached to them. He could picture the stage with Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy on it. He could see the Puppet slowly emerging out from its box. There was also a vivid vision of Circus Baby shaking, the pieces inside her being all bloody as he attempted to take out her only victim…

No, that's not it…

He focused on his own demise, remembering the agony he felt as the metallic pieces and parts were rammed into his body, piercing through his skin, muscle and organs, slowly killing him. He shuddered, but concentrated on what happened afterwards.

I was trapped inside the animatronic and my soul was tied to it.

He opened his eyes, which flared purple. He frowned.

All the deaths were incredibly violent, but does the soul really follow the pain? It seems so. The main point is that your soul is tied to the animatronic in some way.

He could see the man sitting across him in that small room, which was only illuminated by a dim light.

It doesn't have to be an animatronic. It can be your own body.

His mind went back to his workshop, to him looking over his blueprints as he realized that there was a possibility to keep a soul trapped even if the actual body died. Still, there had been some issues with that.

Not every death results in a possession.

He tilted his head, feeling that he was going in the right direction. He remembered Circus Baby and the change from her blue eyes to green as she got possessed by Elizabeth's soul.

Then, there's the AI…

It had been quite difficult, but he had managed to overcome the Spring Bonnie AI and take over the animatronic, something he felt Elizabeth never achieved. Instead, the soul and the AI merged together, creating a new consciousness that took full control over Scrap Baby.

All those little pieces… All those souls…

He suddenly realized what was wrong. He felt that it was a slight oversight on his part, but finally finding out what exactly was bothering him made him feel relief. He also felt a little excited, eager to share that information with Sam. He went towards the door, only to stop as he realized that Sam was already asleep and that he probably shouldn't wake her up.

He then frowned, figuring that he could risk it. He was sure that Sam probably wouldn't be angry at him if he told her what he found out, as he felt that it was really important for her to know. However, as he reached for the door knob, he suddenly had a vision of an angry Emma. He still remembered her warning from the previous night, feeling that she would kick him out if she found him roaming through the house again.

He fumed, annoyed about it, but he really didn't want to deal with Emma in case she found him in Sam's room again. She probably wouldn't force him to leave permanently, but he was quite sure that he would spend the rest of the night locked out of the house until Emma decided to let him in.

He sat back on the couch, knowing there were still several hours to spare until Sam and Emma would wake up. It was a little frustrating, but he felt that he could work with it. After all, it was just a few hours, right? He could wait that long.

Springtrap's ears lowered as he sighed.

Only that every minute feels like a year.

xXx

Springtrap was reading one of the novels Sam borrowed him, but he couldn't concentrate on it. He was waiting for at least one person to wake up so he knew that he could leave the room. The moment he heard someone going downstairs, Springtrap dashed towards the door.

He assumed that it was Emma, as he knew that Sam would check on him. He peeked into the hallway, hearing clattering from downstairs, before sneaking into Sam's room and opening the door as quietly possible. As he expected, Sam was still asleep. He closed the door and walked over to her, crouching down as he observed her.

Please, wake up soon.

He wanted to wait for her to wake up on her own, but the more minutes passed, the more impatient he started to grow.

Calm down, let her sleep.

His eyes started to glow purple as he clutched the edge of Sam's bed, keeping himself in balance as he stared at her. To be honest, patience wasn't his strong suit.

You have to wait… You know what, forget it!

He reached over and poked her nose. When she didn't react, he gently scratched her cheek, hoping that it would wake her up. She just waved her hand and turned her back to him, continuing to sleep. He leaned over and scratched her cheek again. This time, it seemed to work, as Sam opened her eyes. He titled his head, a wide grin on his expression. However, Sam looked annoyed.

''What is it?'' she asked, still half-asleep.

''I figured out what might be wrong with Raven,'' Springtrap said excitedly. ''I think this might be a case of incomplete possession.''

''Great,'' Sam said, smiling and then lied back down to continue sleeping. Springtrap's ears lowered and he felt a little disappointed by her reaction. However, he decided to wait a little. A few seconds later, Sam suddenly turned back to him, giving him a confused look. ''What do you mean, 'incomplete possession'?''

''Don't worry, I'll explain you everything in detail once you're wide awake,'' Springtrap replied, grinning. ''I've been waiting the whole night to tell you that.''

''I assume you didn't want to risk Mum's wrath by sneaking into my room,'' Sam said as she got up, with Springtrap nodding. ''Okay, I'm up, but you'll need to leave the room.''

Springtrap's ears rose up as she pointed at the door, only for him to give her a nervous smile and exiting the room, waiting in the hallway. He was still excited to talk to Sam, and hear her opinion on what he found out. A few minutes later, Sam exited the room, with the two going downstairs and joining Emma in the kitchen. She looked surprised to see Sam, giving Springtrap a suspicious look.

''Someone's up early,'' she said, with Sam yawning.

''Yeah…'' Sam muttered. ''Say, Mum, could I borrow the car today?''

''Why?''

Sam and Springtrap exchanged glances and Sam sighed.

''We want to explore an abandoned factory and we need the car to get there,'' Sam explained. Emma crossed her arms, giving both a questioning look, as if contemplating whether to let them go. Sam and Springtrap felt a little anxious.

''Okay, fine,'' she said, much to their surprise. ''But only under the condition that you drive me to work and back. Also, I have read the weather report and they say that it might start raining today or tomorrow, so you better bring an umbrella with you.'' She rolled her eyes when she saw that Sam and Springtrap didn't really believe her. ''I told you two my conditions and I'm keeping my promise as long as you keep yours. Besides, when was the last time I didn't let you go anywhere?''

''You're the best!'' Sam grinned.

''I hope I'll remain the best,'' Emma replied. She then glanced at Springtrap. ''So, did you manage to recall whatever you needed to remember?''

''Yes, I did,'' Springtrap replied, noticing the smile of satisfaction Emma had. He felt that it was a little strange that Emma didn't fight back a little more, or at least held any grudge against him aside from being distrustful. He knew that her decisions were also based on Sam's decisions, but still, he felt weird about it. He kept quiet during the rest of breakfast, patiently waiting for Sam to finish eating.

''So, do you think you can pick me up after work?'' Emma asked Sam.

''I guess,'' she said, with Springtrap glancing at her. ''I don't plan on staying out too late.'' ''Why not?'' Emma asked curiously.

''Because the current circumstances don't allow that,'' Sam replied, then stood up and placed her bowl in the dishwasher. Emma gave Springtrap a questioning look, with him shrugging, looking just as confused as she was.

''She's the boss,'' he replied. ''I just go along with whatever she has on mind.'' ''I see,'' Emma said as he stood up, following Sam upstairs.

He still felt a little weirded out by how calm the morning was. He had expected that his anxiety would once again skyrocket in Emma's presence, or that he would have to deal with her threats, but other than her questioning them about their plans, it was relatively normal. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, but he had other things on mind.

''Okay, I'm wide awake now,'' Sam said as he closed the door to her room. ''What was that about an 'incomplete possession'?''

''To be honest, I am not completely sure that my theory is correct, but it does explain the weird feeling I had,'' Springtrap said, with Sam sitting down on the chair. ''You know that, when an animatronic becomes haunted, that the soul stays attached to it, unable to move on unless the animatronic gets damaged.''

''Yeah, and the best way to do that is using heat,'' Sam said.

''Right. Now, there are a few things I noticed with the Raven that were completely different than my actual experience with haunted animatronics,'' Springtrap said. ''You see, after becoming a hybrid myself, I became capable of sensing the presence of other trapped souls. So, when I met Elizabeth and Charlie again, I instantly knew that they were still trapped inside the Scrap Baby and Puppet animatronics.''

''But you didn't have the same feeling when you were next to Raven,'' Sam said, with Springtrap nodding.

''I am certain that the animatronic was possessed in a way, but it wasn't the same thing as what happened to me or the others,'' Springtrap added. ''Therefore, it might be some kind of incomplete possession, with the soul being only partially tied to the animatronic.''

''How would that occur?'' Sam asked.

''I am not completely sure about it, but I do have a few ideas,'' Springtrap said. ''You remember the Toy Animatronics, right?''

''Yeah, the ones who replaced the Withereds at the '87 location,'' Sam said. ''Were they haunted?''

''No, at least not in the same sense as the Withereds,'' Springtrap replied. ''Technically, they were just following their programming, but our little encounter with Raven reminded me of something else. I assume that you are aware that the company used some old parts from the Withereds and put them in the Toys and vice versa.''

''Now that you're mentioning it, Phone Guy did mention that in his calls,'' Sam said, curious about where Springtrap was going with this. A second later, it dawned her. ''Wait, do you want to say that those parts had something to do with the Toys' behavior?''

''They did. While the Toys weren't haunted, they had been influenced by those additional parts, which already had a soul attached to them,'' Springtrap explained, his eyes glowing purple. ''Those parts were coated in remnant.''

''Remnant keeps a soul attached to whatever it was supposed to be attached to,'' Sam said, then rose an eyebrow as she thought about it. ''But, what about Raven's situation…''

''I'll come to that in a moment, but first, there's another thing I need to cover. Something I personally experienced,'' Springtrap said. ''When it comes to letting the soul becoming attached to an animatronic, you also need to take the animatronic's AI into consideration.''

''You told me that you had to fight against the Spring Bonnie AI in order to finally take control over the animatronic,'' Sam said.

''Exactly,'' Springtrap said, crossing his arms on his back. ''However, this isn't the only outcome. In Elizabeth's case, her soul and Circus Baby's AI merged together. Also, when you look at the other animatronics, the souls inside them never really had full control over them, which means that the AI overpowered their mind, while leaving only the most important memories.''

''Like being murdered by an adult,'' Sam said in an icy tone, with Springtrap lowering his head. He sighed.

''You should also know that possession doesn't always occur,'' he added. ''Also, you don't have to be necessarily stuffed inside the suit to possess it, but you need to be in close proximity to it.''

''I understand,'' Sam replied. ''So, what's Raven's deal?''

''I do believe that someone was indeed killed and that their soul attempted to possess Raven, but they weren't exactly successful,'' Springtrap explained, his eyes flaring purple. ''What we saw were probably the remains of that event, and I assume that the consciousness merged partially with the AI, meaning the AI is following the soul's pain, even if the soul isn't there. I might be wrong, but this is the conclusion I came to.''

''Well, you have more experience with that than I do,'' Sam said. Springtrap frowned.

''I wish I had more time to examine Raven, but it is obvious that I won't be able to do that since it is getting too risky to go back to Ricky's after hours,'' he said.

''Still, we can visit the factory,'' Sam replied. ''I doubt that Ricky's actor can just leave in the middle of his performance to go there and check on everything.''

''So, that's why you plan to go there earlier,'' Springtrap said. ''Smart move.''

''We need to be out sometime before Ricky's Wonder Shack closes for the day,'' Sam added. ''Hopefully we will find something.''

xXx

''I assume everything went well last night,'' Emma said as Sam drove her to the store.

''More than well, but we won't be returning there so soon,'' Sam replied. Emma gave her a surprised look.

''Really? Why not?'' Emma asked. ''I told you you're free to go as long as you stay safe.''

''That's not the issue,'' Sam replied. ''I'm afraid that Ricky's will hire a new night guard soon and I don't want to deal with that.''

''What about this factory you were talking about earlier?'' Emma asked.

''It's abandoned,'' Sam replied, frowning. ''Although, someone else is using whatever was left behind.'' She glanced at her mother. ''The factory used to make animatronics and they apparently closed a while after making the animatronics that are now mascots at Ricky's.''

''I see,'' Emma said, with Sam parking in front of the store. ''I wish you good luck with it. Also, I was serious about you picking me up.''

''I know, I know,'' Sam replied, smiling. As she drove away, she knew well that her mother was more concerned with Sam returning home safely rather than picking her up.

After she went to the locksmith to get a copy of the keys for Freddy's, she sneaked inside the restaurant to leave the original keys on the table in the manager's office for someone to find them and finally lock the place to keep intruders away. Then, she went to Ricky's, deciding to check whether the mascot's actor was indeed there. After buying herself a milkshake, she nonchalantly walked up to the stage, observing the animatronics. Ricky was missing, which meant that the costume version of him was roaming around the place. She knew that, in that case, once he noticed her, he would approach her as usual.

Still, she did feel chills flowing down her spine when she heard his voice coming from behind her. She turned around, only to be greeted by Ricky smiling at her.

''Ah, hello there! It is great to see you again!'' he said in a chipper tone. Sam forced a smile.

''Um, sure,'' she said, lifting her drink. ''I can't get enough of those.''

''I see,'' Ricky said in a curious tone. ''But I thought you were returning because of me and my friends.''

''Well, I've been more interested in Freddy's recently,'' Sam said nervously. She knew that the guy beneath the mask was glaring at her, considering how silent he was. Still, she decided to continue to play dumb. ''In any case…''

''Connor-ah, I meant Ricky!'' A female employee approached them, quickly correcting herself in order to keep the masquerade. ''The family there in the corner wanted to take some photos with you.''

''No problem! Thank you for informing me, Bella.'' The guy in the costume said, glancing back at Sam, who seemed to be focused more on her drink rather than on their conversation. ''I hope you'll enjoy your stay here!''

''Me too,'' Sam muttered, watching him leave. His co-worker, Bella, gave her a nervous glance.

''Is there anything I can do for you?'' she asked in a polite tone.

''No, thanks,'' Sam replied. ''I'm just enjoying myself.''

''That's good to hear,'' Bella replied, leaving her. The moment both she and Ricky were out of her sight, Sam quickly left the place.

xXx

Back at home, the moment Sam opened the door, she heard a strange noise, with Springtrap suddenly standing in the hallway holding her bag and an umbrella. She gave him a curious look, with him shrugging.

''Didn't Emma say that it would be raining?'' he asked. ''So, when are we going?''

''You're quite eager to leave,'' Sam remarked, with Springtrap looking flustered. ''It's okay, I know how you feel, as I also want to leave as soon as possible.'' She smiled. ''Let's go.''

Springtrap, still feeling a little flustered, followed her outside, with Sam locking the door and entering the car. She then pulled out of the driveway and drove towards where the factory was.

''Have you managed to leave the keys?'' Springtrap asked her.

''Yeah,'' Sam replied, narrowing her eyes. ''We're doing them a favor at this point. Speaking of which, Ricky's actor has a name, Connor.''

''How did you find that out?'' Springtrap asked her.

''When I went to Ricky's to check on him, to make sure that he was indeed there, one of his co-workers accidentally called him by his actual name,'' Sam replied.

''I wonder if he had figured out that we know more than we should,'' Springtrap said.

''I'm not sure,'' Sam replied. ''He didn't seem to be suspicious of me. However, he did seem to be irritated when I told him that I was still more interested in the animatronics at Freddy's.''

''Honestly, I am worried that he might lash out at you, as he obviously dislikes your opinion,'' Springtrap said in a worried tone. ''Speaking of which, I do approve of your mindset,'' he added, with a smug grin on his expression. Sam chuckled. ''Although, I don't like the fact that he's so interested in you…''

He trailed off once he realized what he was about to say. As much as he wanted to cast himself in a better light, he knew that he wasn't better than Connor.

''Will, it's okay.'' Springtrap rose his head, noticing Sam's sympathetic look. ''You're still less of a creep than Ricky's actor in my opinion.''

''Sam, I don't think…'' Springtrap winced when he got cut off by Sam.

''William, I know what you want to tell me, but think about it,'' she said. ''Do I look like I'm uncomfortable while I'm here right next to you?''

''No, but I do remember that there were a few times you looked like you were scared of me,'' Springtrap replied.

''That was because I knew that there were some serious issues we needed to deal with,'' Sam replied.

''Then, I'm not sure...'' Springtrap glanced at her, looking content. ''Although, I do remember all the times you smiled because of me.''

''Exactly,'' Sam replied, grinning.

xXx

The flashlights illuminated the empty hallway. While it still was day, it was dark inside the factory. Sam and Springtrap decided against turning the power on, as they feared that someone would notice it.

''At least we have enough time to explore this place,'' Sam said, looking at her smartphone. ''Unless Connor leaves earlier for some reason.''

''Considering what you told me about it, I sincerely doubt that he would want to leave his precious 'friends' until the location is closed,'' Springtrap said dryly. ''Rest assured, we are not alone here.''

Sam nodded, with the two managing to find the hallway where they found the room with the strange endoskeleton. As they entered and illuminated the room, they saw the endoskeleton, but this time, with its head off. Sam felt bad for it, with Springtrap approaching the endoskeleton, examining it, and then turning his attention to the head, picking it up and pointing the flashlight at it.

''Someone tore its head off,'' he said, looking at the dent on the side of the head. ''That someone certainly wasn't happy.''

''At least we are certain that this endoskeleton is not suffering anymore,'' Sam said in a deadpan tone. ''Still, you're right. Something went wrong or he wasn't satisfied with whatever results he had gotten from this endoskeleton.''

Springtrap placed the head back where he found it, still pointing his flashlight at the endoskeleton.

''We should move on,'' he said. ''There might be more of those endoskeletons.''

They exited the room, continuing to the next one, further down the hallway. As Sam opened it, she saw a strange object in the corner of the room, as well as a crescent-shaped object on the nearby table.

''What is that?'' Springtrap asked as the two entered the room. Sam approached the object in the corner, noticing that it were two tanks connected to several tubes. There was also a strange smell in the air, but when she tried to lift one of the tanks, it was surprisingly light.

''It smells like… gasoline?'' Sam narrowed her eyes, placing the empty tanks back. ''Is this supposed to be some kind of makeshift flamethrower?''

''Why do you think that this is a flamethrower?'' Springtrap asked her. Sam glanced at him.

''I tend to look up weird stuff on YouTube when there's nothing interesting to do. One guy eliminated an entire hornet nest with a homemade flamethrower, although that one was made from hairspray and a lighter. It was awesome,'' she said, grinning.

''Sounds brutal,'' Springtrap said in an amused tone, then walked over to the object on the table. ''A sickle?''

He placed the flashlight on the table, lifting the heavy metallic object, with Sam illuminating it with her own flashlight.

''I don't think that that can be used,'' Sam said, looking at the crescent-like object. ''Why would it even be here?''

''Search me,'' Springtrap said as he placed it back, then tilted his head. ''Maybe, it isn't a sickle… If you attach this part to an arm, it would look like a huge hook.''

''You're right, but why would he need that?'' Sam asked.

''Honestly, I don't think that we want to know,'' Springtrap told her, taking the flashlight and exited the room. Sam lingered a little, but soon joined him, continuing their search. They found themselves back at where the area with the conveyor belt, noticing that the parts and pieces were moved since the last time they were here. That didn't strike the two as strange, as they assumed that Connor would've used the parts for whatever animatronics he was working on. Instead of going towards the hallway they went last time, they went to the door behind the conveyor belt. It led to another hallway, with them checking the first room they came across.

''What the hell is this?'' Sam asked, with her and Springtrap staring at it in surprise. The room was filled with animatronic parts. Arms, legs, torsos, heads… Some parts were rather bulky and generic, made to fit any kind of animatronic, but there were some parts that certainly weren't made to fit a child-friendly robot.

Sam spotted what looked like a long, yellow arm with three fingers, or rather, claws. There were also spiky protrusions on the back of the arm. Springtrap meanwhile examined what looked like a slender lavender leg with clawed toes.

''What is he doing?'' he muttered, stunned by their discovery.

''There don't seem to be any blueprints or indications of what those things are,'' Sam said as she examined a long, clawed arm covered in strings and thin wires. It looked like it was broken. Springtrap moved the flashlight slowly across the room, observing every part of it.

''It feels as if he's trying to create something, but doesn't know it either,'' Springtrap said. ''There are too many parts and none of them make much sense. Even if he tries to create multiple animatronics, it's just too chaotic.''

''Perhaps he's experimenting with the parts, using some of them and throwing away other parts,'' Sam suggested. ''It's pretty wasteful if you ask me.''

''I agree,'' Springtrap said. ''We should check the other rooms.''

''Wait a sec,'' Sam said, taking out her smartphone and snapping a few photos of the room. Then, they went to the next room, a little further down the corridor.

Once they entered it, they saw a table with some tools on it and an endoskeleton sitting in the corner. It looked similar to the one they had seen, but it was filthy, being covered in brown and red smears, and didn't move at all. Another, cleaner endoskeleton was also inside the room, but it was just as inactive as the other one. Springtrap examined them, noticing that, while the first endoskeleton's limbs could move, the second one's couldn't.

''Those smears, that's blood,'' he said.

''There's blood here as well,'' Sam said, pointing at the table. ''If there's one thing I'm sure about, it is that this guy has a few screws loose.''

''We should go check the last room and then see if there's anything else here,'' Springtrap told her. Sam nodded and, after taking another photo, followed him to the last room in the corridor. Once they entered it, it appeared that they were in some kind of boiler room, with a furnace inside it. To their surprise, they found Raven there.

''Okay, this was unexpected,'' Sam said, looking at the animatronic. ''It looks like Connor came back last night to move him here.''

Springtrap crouched next to the animatronic, observing him. This time, he didn't hear any buzzing or saw any static.

''Spring?'' He turned to Sam, who looked worried.

''I'm fine,'' he said. ''But, there's no buzzing or static. There isn't anything there, as if it's not the same animatronic we saw the previous night.''

Curious, he took the mask off and examined the wires on the head. Just as he had hoped, the Raven also had the same black device connected to his system as Ricky had.

''Sam, could you go back to that room with the tools and get me the screwdriver?'' he asked.

''Sure!'' Sam nodded and ran out of the room. Springtrap continued to examine Raven. The wire was still attached to the battery, so he wasn't deactivated. However, he didn't react at all when Springtrap attempted lifted his arm or tried leaned him over to take a closer look at him. He then glanced at the furnace, frowning.

Is it possible that…

''Here!'' He looked at Sam, who gave him the screwdriver. He nodded, turning back to the animatronic and disconnected the wire from the battery, then moved the wires that were covering the black device.

''Sam, could you please hold these wires?'' he said, with Sam crouching next to the animatronic and lifting the wires while also pointing her flashlight at it, watching as Springtrap attempted to get the black device out. After a few minutes, he managed to take it out, examining it under the light of Sam's flashlight. It was scratched and there seemed to be a switch on the other side. Springtrap then looked at Sam. ''We should go check on the other endoskeletons and see whether they have the same device.''

Sam nodded, with Springtrap then returning Raven back to his previous state. The two then left, checking the room with the two endoskeletons. However, none of them had the same black device. They then exited the corridor, returning back to the area with the conveyor belt.

''Sam, remember when I told you about what I think what happened to Raven?'' Springtrap asked her, with Sam nodding. ''I believe that he had been left before at the boiler room, next to the furnace, and that the heat from it probably caused him to enter this state, where the AI merged with what remained of the soul. The AI had probably been echoing the pain and agony the soul went through.''

''Sounds kinda like Ennard, that is, Molten Freddy,'' Sam said.

''Yes, but Ennard is a different story,'' Springtrap replied. ''We still haven't figured out what happened here, though.''

''Honestly, I think we should go back home and return here another day,'' Sam said, glancing at her smartphone. ''We've been here for hours. Besides, we did find out a few things about this place.''

''True,'' Springtrap muttered, looking at the black device in his hand. ''Although, I would really like to know why this is happening. After all, being trapped inside an animatronic is like a curse. The soul will try to find a way to free itself.''

''Still, you're an exception,'' Sam said, with a sly smile on her expression.

''Sam, I am also cursed, being trapped like this,'' Springtrap replied. ''The only reason why I'm an exception is because I have accepted my curse. It drove me insane, but the soul still lived. The Springtrap has risen.''

''Apparently, he's not alone,'' Sam said, with Springtrap giving her a curious look. ''I'm still here and I know the story. Still, it is interesting to hear it over and over again.''

Springtrap grinned, then looked at the black device in his hand, clenching his fist.

This is my curse, but my demise didn't mean the end of my life or my plans. In fact, the show has just begun.

xXx

Heavy black clouds were forming on the horizon, with Sam biting her lip, hoping that they would get back home before the rain started. Springtrap was meanwhile still looking at the black device he got from Raven. He seemed to be tired.

''Will?''

''What is it?'' Springtrap looked at her, with Sam briefly glancing at him.

''Do you believe that Connor has figured out how to create haunted animatronics the way you did?'' she asked.

''No, I don't think so,'' Springtrap replied. ''It feels more like he just heard the rumors and attempted to create haunted animatronics based on that. To be honest, now even I know what exactly occurs with the soul when it gets into the state between life and death, despite the fact that I had experienced it.''

''I guess that we can agree that this whole story is still a complete mess and that it will take a while before it finally starts to make sense,'' Sam said. Springtrap simply nodded, then looked through the window at the landscape. It was getting darker and darker as the black clouds got closer.

For all I know, I could be wrong about everything I had assumed. I did base those assumptions on what I had experienced, but that doesn't mean I was right. Rather than being trapped inside this suit, my curse is the fact that I would have to live a life aware of the mistakes I made, some of which I regret, and some which I'm proud of.

He closed his eyes, listening to the thundering in the distance.

Mistake or not, this is what I've chosen to be.

Links:

#Previous Chapter

#Current Chapter

#Next Chapter

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #springtrap #drawkill animatronics

3 notes · View notes

badwolfe359 · 2 years

Text

Nick Nelson loves the MCU and Tao’s favourite film is Hunt for the Wilderpeople. You cannot tell me that the one piece of common ground that they bond over isn’t Taika Waititi

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from a one shot I just wrote. Feel free to enjoy the entire thing here

Nick meets Charlie for lunch in the yard with Tao and Issac. He’s hoping Tao will have softened towards him somewhat now that he knows about them and he and Charlie have made up.

Tao seems slightly less hostile than Nick has known him to be but they clearly aren’t going to be best friends any time soon. At one point the conversation dies and Nick, in a last ditch effort to endear himself to Charlie’s best friend, says, “Soooo, Tao, Charlie tells me you like films?”

Tao narrows his eyes at him.

“Yes?” He answers suspiciously.

Nick forges on. He’s determined to get Tao to at least tolerate his presence.

“What’s your favourite film then?”

Charlie and Isaac eye them like they’re wild animals circling each other in the wild.

“You’ve probably never heard of it.” Tao answers.

“Try me.”

Tao lets out a huff and crosses his arms, “It’s called, ‘Hunt for the Wilderpeople.’”

Nick perks up. He actually knows that film.

“Oh, I’ve seen that, yeah, it is really good.”

Tao stares at him in shock, equally shocked are Charlie and Issac who are watching the exchange with rapt attention.

“You’ve seen it?” Tao asks finally.

“Yeah!”

“Wha-? How? Huh?”

“It’s a Taika Waititi film. Plus the kid from Deadpool 2 is in it.”

Tao looks taken aback.

“You know who Taika Waititi is?”

“Well, yeah, he made my favourite MCU movie.”

Tao rolls his eyes, “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Nick grins, maybe this is his way in.

“You’re a fan of his then?”

Tao opens his mouth and launches into a monologue about the filmmaker and his work. Nick is happy to sit back and listen even if Charlie and Issac groan like they’ve heard this speech one too many times already. He’s impressed by Tao’s knowledge and passion, even if he is a little prickly on the outside. The lecture dies down and Nick feels like he can try for a conversation. He asks Tao about Jojo Rabbit and they discuss it as best Nick can. Tao isn’t super impressed by a lot of his opinions but he at least seems to be tolerating them.

“Well, I still think your taste in movies is terrible but at least you recognise the genius of Waititi.” Tao says at last and Nick thinks that’s as good as he could have hoped for from the cinephile. “How the hell did you end up seeing so many of his films anyhow?”

“Oh, well, after Thor: Ragnarok I went on kind of a deep dive into his work. He’s super funny and talented and…” He thinks about the filmmaker and the hours he’d spent looking him up online and searching out his other work and he’s hit by a sudden realisation that stops him mid sentence. “Oh.”

“What?” Tao asks.

Charlie rubs his back and says knowingly, “You’re just now realising you had a crush on him, aren’t you?”

Nick looks over at Charlie in shock and nods his head. Charlie sends him a look of pity.

“Yeah, that’s gonna keep happening. Sort of part and parcel with the whole sexual identity crisis.”

Nick groans and buries his head in his hands. Beside him, Charlie snickers.

“Don’t mock my pain.” He says, lifting his head.

Charlie is outright laughing at this point.

“Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. I think even Tao has a crush on him.”

“Oh, definitely.” Tao answers with a smile.

Nick looks up at the group and, despite the shame flooding through him, he’s glad that he seems to have broken through the ice with Tao.

“We should watch that new pirate show he’s in.” Charlie suggests, taking Nick’s hand and cuddling up next to him, “It’s supposed to be really funny and super gay!”

#heartstopper #heartstopper fanfic #taika waititi #Nick x charlie fanfic #nick nelson #charlie spring #Tao xu #nick x charlie #fanfic #issac henderson #songstress42

26 notes · View notes

ceapa-mica · 1 year

Text

WAYWARD - Atina’s Story | Chapter 1: The Dream

{cross-posted on ao3} {masterlist}

← Prologue

This is a spin off to my Mandalorian fic Gehat'ik Be Aliit. You do not need to have read this story!

Summary: The story begins on Pamarthe where 16 year old Atina Chuchi wants to make a name for herself participating in an infamous starship race.

Rating: G

Warnings: a little bit of violence

Words: 3169

a/n: This is where the fun begins! Welcome again to this beautiful spin-off. Please mind that my main fanfiction Gehat'ik Be Aliit will remain my number one priority. This spin-off is just something I write in between, so I won't update this one as often as my other work. Also a big shoutout to my friend and beta reader @unmotivated-exhausted-author! Have fun reading!

3 BBY

The city of Sekystia, a usually beautiful and majestic city perched against the edge of a cliff, overlooking the merciless sea as far as the eye could see, was lying under a thick blanket of dark clouds and heavy downpour.

As the capital of the Outer Rim world Pamarthe, it had its own spaceport which bustled with activity all year round, filling the streets with crowds of travelers eager to tour, buy and sell in such a popular destination . The lack of Imperial presence in this sector attracted many people who preferred to stay off the Empire's radar.

Most of the buildings were made of white stone and wood, modern yet historical in some way. Vendors offered their wares which mainly consisted of seafood and fishing tools as this planet was mostly covered by water, with the exception of several rugged islands that withstood the tides, of which most were connected by stone or wooden bridges, which despite sounding like a lot of space, actually housed several hundred thousand Pamarthens - a folk of excellent pilots with a high alcohol tolerance.

Away from the busy road, a figure in a black poncho walked through the puddles of a back alley, obviously knowing where she was going.

The happy little girl that had softened Hondo Ohnaka's heart had become a woman that oozed confidence, despite only being sixteen years old at this point.

A washed out sign with the words Employees Only didn't keep her from opening the door of a cantina's rear entrance. She entered with a hand on her blaster and peeked around the corner to see if the person she was looking for was actually there.

Her eyes landed on a Weequay who didn't just look completely drunk, he also smelled worse than a wet nerf. As he noticed Atina, he sat up straighter, eyeing the bottle on the table, wagering to throw it at her and escape.

"Aren't you a bit too young for a place like this?" he asked in a slimy voice as she approached his table.

"Zabo, I'm here to collect your debt. Try to run and I'll pull the trigger before you can reach the door." she spoke in an icy tone.

The Weequay chuckled. "Careful with that blaster, you could cause some serious injuries with that thing."

Patrons from the surrounding tables who watched them snickered at Zabo's comment.

Without further ado the teenage girl pulled the trigger, leaving a scorch mark on the table in front of the man.

"Say that again and next time I won't miss your face."

The Weequay slowly raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay okay! You're here to collect for Ohnaka?"

"You owe him 3.000 credits!"

Zabo swallowed and slowly pulled a satchel of credits from his bag which Atina took and counted.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she smirked and left the cantina the way she came in, leaving the patrons in astonishment at her apparent ruthlessness.

She commed Hondo Ohnaka to tell him that she had successfully acquired Zabo's debt.

"You've become quite good at this! That son of a mudscuffer owed me for at least six years. Now that you have the credits, go to the port and find a Mon Calamari named Baduk. If you still want to sign up for Crystal Waters that is."

"But what about your credits?"

"You will need an entry fee to participate in Crystal Waters."

"Does that mean… you want to pay that fee for me?!"

"You're associated with me. If you make a name for yourself at this race, it improves my reputation as well."

"Crystal Waters! I've always wanted to go out there and show off my skill, and not just watch. Thank you, uncle!"

"Win this race for me, yes?"

Atina wanted to answer but stopped dead in her tracks. What she needed for the notorious Crystal Waters race was a ship, and she came to Pamarthe on board a shuttle with hundreds of Crystal Waters fans.

"I would win this for us in a heartbeat, but I don't have a ship, you know that."

"I didn't take you under my wing for nothing. Didn't you learn anything in the years we traversed the Galaxy together?"

Atina sighed. "Of course I learned a lot. You- you want me to steal a ship, don't you?"

"The trick is not to get caught! You can do this, Atina. They will only accept you in this race if you have a ship."

"Steal a ship, sign in for Crystal Waters. Got it!"

Atina had never stolen anything bigger than a landspeeder before. Stealing a starship would be a lot harder, especially participating in a popular race with it.

"I have a bad feeling about this…" she muttered after she had ended the comm.

There was a reason why thieves preferred pre Imperial ships: The Empire could not track them. And Atina had a feeling she would need one of those.

She didn't exactly blend in at the spaceport, so she formed a plan in her brilliant mind.

She hid in a closet at the spaceport and waited til nightfall. That's when she kept an eye out for any workers. It took a while until a young Twi'lek worker walked past her. In the blink of an eye she stunned him with her blaster, pulled him into the closet, and took his yellow overall with the words Repair Crew written in black Aurebesh letters on the back. It was a little too large on the arms and legs, but it would have to do.

Atina went to many hangers but most ships were too new and if there were any pre Imperial ships it were usually complete rust buckets that would fall apart during a race such as Crystal Waters. Two days were not enough time to repair one of those.

She had almost given up when she entered a hangar with a pre Imperial Corellian freighter in it that seemed to be in pretty good condition. Atina's golden eyes lit up at the sight. She made sure there was nobody around as she used her slicing device to successfully slice the ramp open.

She went inside, closing the ramp behind her, and looked for the cockpit while wringing her wet locks.

"Oh please, who installed the security measures of this ship? This is way too easy!" She rolled her eyes and started the engine.

Outside a few mechanics came running, yelling and waving at her, but she paid them no mind. The ship left the hangar behind and Atina took her time to get used to the controls.

Flies very smoothly, it's perfect! Now all I need to do is hide the ship until I sign in for Crystal Waters. For now I need to find a place to park it, somewhere with a way back to Sekystia for me to sign in.

It was the middle of the night and the ocean below looked like a dark abyss. Atina searched for any light source. It took her about fifteen minutes to find one and she went down, making a soft landing near a small village on a rocky island. She landed behind a row of houses that must have seen better days.

With a relieved sigh she leaned back in the pilot seat and didn't realize when she fell asleep after a few minutes.

She woke up to broad daylight flooding the cockpit. Rubbing her eyes she went to use the ship's 'fresher and after a quick shower went to the kitchenette to look for anything edible. Some meager ration bars she found made her miss the time she went to Nar Shaddaa with Hondo, where some associates of his treated him like a king, with an entire buffet just for him and his young companion. This had been the best food she had ever eaten. But a warm meal was a luxury many people, especially spacers, couldn't afford. Especially not with the Imperial price gouging that was happening.

Hunger had become Atina's constant companion during her travels alone. That's why making a name for herself was so important to her. A reputation would get her jobs, and jobs would get her credits for food and other necessary items. She was just trying to get by. And this new ship would also make it a lot harder for her. Ships needed fuel, and then there were inevitable repair costs and so on. She had to win Crystal Waters or she would be stuck either on this planet or any nearby system.

She learned that she had landed in a small village named Kerresh and that Sekystia was only two hours away… with a speeder or speeder bike. Eventually she met an old man by his house who was busy chopping heads off fish. What really caught her attention was the dusty speeder bike parking near him.

"How many credits would you lend me your speeder bike for?" she asked, ready to haggle over the price.

"Missy, you don't look old enough to ride one of those."

Atina crossed her arms and bit back a snarky remark. She wouldn't threaten an old man's life, she wasn't the type for that. But she had to think of something.

"I need to go to Sekystia, it's very important!"

The man chuckled. "Let me guess, you're one of those kids going crazy over that stupid Silver Water race…"

"It's Crystal Waters actually, and no, I uh… just wanted to meet a friend."

The man shook his head and put the knife aside. "Why don't you ask the pilot of that freighter behind those houses? They're probably here for the race, they could take you there."

"I already asked them and they uh… they threatened me with a blaster. Not the safest option. I've ridden speeder bikes many times before. A much safer option than asking the crew of that freighter once more." she bluffed.

He wiped his hands on an old rag and scratched his mustache in thought.

"Y'know… I haven't used this bike in two years. Before my leg became so bad I used to travel to Sekystia every two weeks and now I haven't been there since… a long time. They sell the freshest wasaka berry pie on this ball of water there. Bring me one of those and you don't have to pay a single credit for fuel."

Atina smirked. "Mission accepted!"

It was a bumpy ride over the islands and rocks that were all connected by stone and wooden bridges. The view on the other hand was great. The sky was still cloudy, but a few sun rays tried to break through.

From afar Sekystia looked simply majestic. How it was built on the mountains that rose from the sea. It was breathtaking.

Atina's awe subsided as she steered the speeder bike through the busy streets. People crossed the streets without looking, vendors yelled at her to buy their stuff and some people loudly complained over the speeder bike. Atina gritted her teeth not to yell back and eventually parked next to a general store right behind a landspeeder.

Wasaka berry pie, entry fee…

On her way to the busy spaceport she looked for a vendor selling pies. She hated crowds of people, and why did some people have to wear the ugliest Crystal Waters merch she had ever seen? Many fan shirts of popular pilots had stupid and sometimes sexistic slogans on them. She hated it.

The food the street vendors offered didn't look appetizing, and no vendor offered wasaka berry pie. She decided to look for the pie on her way back and went to the spaceport in search of a Mon Calamari named Baduk. She had to ask several people first before she got a lead on where to find him, and when she did she was taken aback from what he was doing.

He stood on a small ladder, gluing posters with Imperial propaganda on the graffiti sprayed walls of this side of the spaceport.

"Are you Baduk?"

"That's who I am. What can I do for you, young lady?"

Atina's gaze switched between him and the Imperial propaganda on the posters.

"I'm here to join Crystal Waters and pay my entry fee."

"I'm awfully sorry, the deadline to sign in was last night. Maybe next year."

"Please! Can't you make an exception? I had no idea!"

The Mon Calamari raised his brows. "I'm sorry, that's against the rules."

Atina scoffed. "I'm a very good pilot, and I'm here to prove myself! You're missing out on a great chance!"

"Yeah let me guess, your family told you what a great pilot you are just because you managed to shoot a bunch of womp rats from your landspeeder. That's not the same, kid. At Crystal Waters only the best few pilots make it out alive. Keep practicing, one day you might make it!"

Atina's cheeks turned purple, she had to hold back her anger.

"Fine! You missed your chance, old man!" she spat and turned on her heels, leaving the spaceport with anger flaring up in her golden eyes like embers turning into flames.

"I'll show you what I'm capable of!"

On her way back she took some rather quiet streets. The sooner she found a stupid vendor selling wasaka berry pie, the sooner she would be back at her ship.

No matter what the Mon Calamari said, she would fly anyway and let the other ships shower in the emissions of her new freighter. She was not one who gave up so easily.

Eventually a tiny shop caught her eye that displayed the finest baked goods in its windows. The smell was heavenly and she wondered if they had the pie she was looking for.

As it turned out they had exactly what she needed, and she jumped on the speeder bike to return it to its owner along with the berry pie.

It was already nightfall when she returned. In the village of Kerresh people sat on their porches, they were talking and having supper together. The old man who owned her speeder was still in his little workshop. Done with chopping heads off fish, he was now sorting out scrap metal while a young man in armor was talking to him.

"I can't accept. I'm collecting scrap metal! Nothing worth as much as your beskar. Oh! Look who the seven winds brought back!"

Atina put the wasaka berry pie on his workbench and looked at the young man who looked displeased to say the least.

"I can't accept pieces of your armor, now go!"

the old man spoke.

"I'm not leaving until you buy my shin guard!"

"Stubborn Mandalorian…" the man muttered under his breath.

Atina gazed at his crimson and white armor. She knew about the value of beskar, and she also knew that no Mandalorian would simply sell their armor.

He was a pale boy around her age, his blond hair a short buzz cut, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"You must be truly desperate if you want to sell your armor."

"That's none of your business!" the Mando spat, clearly annoyed.

"It's not hard to guess. You look like the Galaxy ate you up and spat you back out again."

"Any more of your perceptive remarks or are you finished?"

Atina shrugged. "I don't know, you tell me. You don't seem to be the type who would just sell their armor like that."

"He's not selling anything to me." the old man added. "Both of you look starved, come on in, I think I can help you."

Atina followed the old man and looked back at the young Mandalorian who hesitated at first, then let out an annoyed sigh and followed them indoors.

The smell of a fish stew lingered in the air. A steaming kettle of it hung over a small fire pit. The old man introduced himself as Garo Hamue while taking three deep plates from his messy kitchenette, putting a portion of stew on each of them.

"What are two young runaways like you doing on Pamarthe?"

"I am no runaway, I'm here to join Crystal Waters." Atina hummed at the delicious taste of the stew.

"With a ship that's obviously stolen." Garo shook his head. "Just because Pamarthe is rather insignificant, don't underestimate the Empire. When they find out what you did, you'll be in great danger. And what about you, young man?"

The Mandalorian stopped chewing and tensed up. "There's no story to tell." he gritted and continued eating.

There was without a doubt a story. Atina had to admit, him being so secretive about it made her curious. But she knew better than to unnecessarily annoy an armed Mandalorian.

The living quarters of Garo's house had two small sofas and he had enough blankets for both of them.

"Don't think I'll allow you to stay longer than one night. Whatever either of you are involved in, I don't wanna be a part of it. Sleep well, kids!"

He extinguished the oil lamp on his wall and went upstairs where his sleeping quarters were.

For several minutes the Mandalorian tossed and turned on the sofa that was a bit too small for him.

"Why does a skinny thing like you wanna join Crystal Waters? People die in that race, you know?" the Mandalorian eventually murmured.

"People who can't properly fly die in that race. I can win this thing."

"Yeah? How can you choose to die for nothing when the entire Galaxy is watching?"

"I won't die. I- I've watched this race every year since I can remember. I watched holo recordings of each winner's strategies and tricks. You think I'm not prepared? I know your armor is part of your identity. You wanna sell it, and for what? Food? If I wore beskar, I would rather die starving in it than to sell it for a package of measly ration bars."

A moment of silence fell between them until he said one word. "Kyr."

Atina sat up. "What?"

"My name is Kyr Saxon."

"Arista Callio." Atina bit her lip, but Hondo had always told her to be careful who she told her real name, and she didn't know where Kyr's loyalties were lying, so a fake name was the best choice.

"So there's no story as to why you're here? I don't believe you."

"And I don't believe Arista Callio is your actual name."

Dank farrik, he's good!

Kyr chuckled as she couldn't find the right words for a moment. "Loth cat got your tongue?"

"Kriff off and go to sleep!" she snapped and turned around, facing away from him.

She didn't know how typical teenagers dealt with their peers on a daily basis. Most teenage boys she had met so far were complete airheads. If that was the case with this young Mandalorian as well, only time would tell. So far she couldn't help but be annoyed by his mere presence.

a/n: Looks like some Mando ran away from home! Atina needs a friend ok?

Please give me some feedback what you think of the story so far. Just because I won't update more frequently doesn't mean I won't read your comments.

#wayward #gehat'ik be aliit #atina chuchi #star wars fanfiction #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #hondo ohnaka #the clone wars fanfiction #foxiyo

2 notes · View notes

mercysought · 2 years

Text

@middener . “Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.” from hal for abel . ursula k. le guin . accepting

It had taken many years for Abel to grow out of the belief that he was slow. Slow of understanding, as one of the instructors at the Academie had once told him to his face. He did not doubt that belief was a rare one, but truthfully - it was never something that bothered him.

The fact that many among the chevaliers were there in order to prove something to themselves or show off themselves to the instructors was not something that truthfully registered one way or another to Abel. And he was sure that that too was a fault that they saw in him. Abel had joined the Academie as the first one in more than three generations from his family line and he had joined because he had trained his whole life for it. Because he knew, as did they all, that he would make a good chevalier.

And he had. Even without any social graces or understanding for metaphors such as what Hal now said to him with intent eyes that told him much. He knew it, he could see it but whatever they said it seemed like reading lips through water. A different language entirely where he was only left with assumptions of what that might be. Assumptions that he hardly felt secure with at all.

His thin lips are taught into a line and the weight at his brows is as clear as day portraying the tension that remained behind his clear eyes. The fear that he should misunderstand and say the wrong thing. Truthfully, he would have preferred to stay in silence.

It was not slowness, he would eventually learn. It was the want to not be misunderstood in a place where people seemed delighted to speak only in riddles. Abel was patient and while he perhaps could not understand their meaning fully, he knew when he was being made a fool that was too dull to join in their fun.

He stops picking at the skin on the side of his thumb, feeling the light burn and watching the red creep from the edge of his vision.

"I'm... not sure I understood what you meant." he says, finally, apologetic. Light eyes move down back to his hands and he gets up from the chair, holding steady against the aid that rested against his body. Unconsciously, he puts his full body weight on it. Bad days appear more often than good ones, but he would strive to think of them when the clouds covered the sun. As best as he could "But, uh, I think I do."

A beat passes and Abel holds his eyes before glancing back down to his gloved hands. Starting to move to grab the coat that covered the back of the chair that he had been standing on. Clearing his throat, he shifts the weight of his body, allowing the weight of his body to rest against the table and letting go off the aid to put it on.

"I think I will take Félice out for a walk, if she will allow me. She is doing much better." softening the collar, he looks to Hal and then back down to the cane. They both were, seemed he had met his match when it came to food pickiness in all of Skyhold "And tolerates my presence." he hums and it almost sounds like a laugh. It deepens the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when they meet Hal's "Perhaps you can join me if you are not busy?"

#middener #abel de clair ( muses )#raven received ( meme replies )#( he is TRYING )

4 notes · View notes

flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Oh, what’s in a name?

summary: Geralt accidentally calls Jaskier by the wrong name and Jaskier finds out that maybe that's a compliment

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

AO3

warnings: none

„Can you hand me the whetstone, Roach?”

Jaskier, already mid-motion to turn and ready to do what Geralt had asked him to, froze. Slowly, and with the biggest grin he could fit on his lips, he turned back to face Geralt again.

“What did you just say?” He could barely contain the laughter in his voice. Raising an eyebrow, he exchanged a look with Roach – well, he tried to exchange a look with Roach, but as usual, she didn’t cooperate – and let out a tiny snort.

Geralt’s brows furrowed in confusion and he gave a small grunt, before saying, “The whetstone.”

Jaskier blinked, his mouth already half-open to tease Geralt about growing old enough to forget the name of his dearest travel companion, but then he stopped himself. He squinted at Geralt, trying to find any hint on his face that he had even realised that he had called Jaskier by the wrong name, but he found none.

For a moment, he contemplated being offended by being mistaken with a horse, but then Roach trotted over to Geralt and nibbled at his hair, making the witcher look up with the softest smile as he petted her neck.

The sight of Geralt so relaxed and free with his smile, made something warm and fuzzy grow in Jaskier’s chest.

He decided not to say anything. At least for now.

Jaskier’s plans to tease Geralt about the name-thing later failed spectacularly. Not because Jaskier didn’t dare tease Geralt, of course, but because all of his attempts to subtly tease him didn’t work, and Jaskier was too proud of his finesse with words to take a more direct approach to his teasing.

He tried singing songs in which he exchanged Geralt’s name or moniker with something else, which only earned him an amused hum.

“Is calling me the White Wolf not enough anymore?” Geralt asked when Jaskier had finished his little ditty. “I thought you needed one moniker for me for memorability.”

Jaskier huffed and nearly opened his mouth to tell Geralt plainly why he had gone with the wrong moniker, but then he blinked.

“You listened to me while I told you about that?”

Geralt shrugged and turned to tend to Roach. Jaskier was nearly fully convinced that he only did it to have an excuse to avoid eye-contact.

“It’s nice talking to someone who talks back.”

Jaskier snorted. “My friend, I’d say out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s doing most of the talking.”

Geralt didn’t reply, proving Jaskier’s point.

Oh, but Jaskier had been wrong. He didn’t realise just how wrong he had been about Geralt’s penchant for taciturnity, until they had to spend more than a couple of days in town.

Had Jaskier thought Geralt didn’t like talking all that much before, he was now fully taken aback by just how little Geralt actually said. Jaskier would have thought that a town with many people – most of which were even somewhat friendly towards Geralt – would get Geralt to relax, but it only served to make him clam up and become more quiet.

That is, he was quiet, save for when he talked to Jaskier.

In comparison to how he treated everyone else, he was downright chatty with him.

After that discovery, Jaskier made a point of talking more about things that Geralt seemed to like talking about. He let him explain the importance of cleaning his swords so often, lest they rust from his touch. He let him talk for hours on end about how to take care of horses. Once Jaskier got him to open up about his family, Geralt almost didn’t stop talking about his brothers, recounting how he and Eskel had once caught a giant bumblebee or reminiscing about how Lambert had tried to set fire to the instructors’ beds when he had been a trainee.

Watching Geralt talk like that was an experience. Every word that he entrusted with Jaskier made his heart flutter and every small smile Geralt gave him as he talked, took his breath away.

“I think you’d really like them, Roach,” Geralt said to conclude his story about his brothers.

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards, but just like the first time it had happened, Geralt didn’t seem to realise what he had just said.

Jaskier’s grin turned into a soft smile and he leaned a little against Geralt, letting their shoulders touch gently.

“If they are anything like you, I’m sure I’ll like them.”

A couple of weeks later, Jaskier had to admit to himself that he had been wrong once again. He really needed to be careful not to make being wrong into a habit. He had always prided himself in being intelligent – after all, he was a master of the seven liberal arts and years ago, he had made the most intelligent decision of befriending one Geralt of Rivia – and being wrong about things just wasn’t something he liked doing.

But when it came to Geralt, there were always new things to learn, new facets of him to discover. And that wasn’t something Jaskier minded. In fact, every time he learned something new about Geralt – every time Geralt trusted him with new information about himself – Jaskier’s chest felt like it was expanding with that happy little flutter inside.

It was enlightening to learn that Geralt rarely ever cooked with spices, not because they were too expensive, but because his senses were sharp enough to not need much of them.

It was interesting to find out that Geralt liked making up the witcher-code on the spot, whenever someone asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do.

It was endearing finding out that Geralt had named all of his horses Roach.

But it was utterly shocking, when after weeks of having gone their separate ways, Jaskier finally tracked down Geralt to find him talking to Roach.

He froze to his spot and listened enraptured as Geralt spoke to his horse as others did to their friends. As Geralt did to Jaskier.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all. Geralt wasn’t speaking to Roach as he did to Jaskier.

He spoke to Jaskier as he did to Roach.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide at the realisation. How long had Geralt been alone before Jaskier had attached himself to his side, with only Roach as company?

Jaskier thought back to all the times Geralt had looked insecure when speaking with Jaskier when they had first started travelling together, as if he didn’t know how to talk to people. As if he didn’t have much experience doing so outside of negotiating contracts or the winters that he spent with his family.

Thinking of it, Jaskier realised that he probably was the only friend besides Roach that Geralt had.

Jaskier swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and continued walking to Geralt, announcing his presence with a cheerful, “My friend! I missed you!”

Geralt whirled around to him, an unreadable expression on his face, and Jaskier’s chest twisted uncomfortably, unsure if he had maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, but then Geralt’s eyes softened and he gave Jaskier the smallest but most beautiful of smiles.

That evening, as they sat beside the crackling fire and Jaskier plucked a soft melody on his lute as background noise, Geralt talked to him again, telling him with only minimal prompting about the contracts he had completed while Jaskier had been away playing at court.

When the fire died down and Jaskier got too tired to stay awake any longer, Geralt softly nudged him towards his bedroll.

“We can continue this talk tomorrow,” Geralt said, a little hesitantly, as if he still wasn’t entirely sure if his voice was welcome.

“I’d love to.” Jaskier pulled his blanket up to his chin and smiled when Geralt’s shoulders lost the little tension that had taken hold of them with his last words. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Roach.”

Jaskier pulled the blanket a little higher to hide his smile. The last thing he thought, before sleep embraced him, was that it really wasn’t that bad being called by Roach’s name.

Now, Jaskier and Roach had never gotten along too well. He had tried to braid her mane despite Geralt warning him that she didn’t like people touching her and she had tried to bite his fingers off.

Sometimes, when Jaskier got peckish, he stole the apple slices Geralt would buy for Roach. Other times, Roach would swat at Jaskier with her tail as if he was an irritating fly, while he was in the middle of composing a song.

Safe to say, they barely did much more than tolerate each other’s presence for Geralt’s sake.

Now though, with Jaskier’s newfound knowledge about how important the mare was to Geralt, Jaskier saw her in a different light.

Oh, sure, she was still cantankerous and stubborn, but she was also Geralt’s oldest companion and friend on the Path.

So Jaskier made a point of always putting some coin aside to buy her treats whenever they got into town and composing odes to her beauty. He wasn’t sure if Roach appreciated the latter, but there was no doubt she liked the treats he got her.

It didn’t take long, until she allowed him to pet her soft muzzle and shortly after, she started following Jaskier around or approaching him happily when he came back after having split from Geralt for a while.

At first, Geralt watched this new display of affection between them warily, but all too soon, Jaskier caught him smiling when Roach nibbled at Jaskier’s hair or Jaskier went out of his way to brush her down.

One time, while Geralt had thought Jaskier was too deep in thought composing to hear him, he had whispered to Roach how happy he was that the two of them got along.

“Remember when I said you would like my brothers?” Geralt said one morning, completely out of the blue, while watching Jaskier try to catch the falling red leaves from the air.

Distracted, Jaskier missed the leaf just by a hair’s breadth. It landed on his head instead. Seemingly without thinking, Geralt brushed it off Jaskier’s head, lingering just a little too long to be a casual touch.

“Y-yeah,” Jaskier said, his heart jumping to his throat. “Of course I remember you talking about Eskel and Lambert.”

Something lit up in Geralt’s eyes. “You remember their names?”

“Naturally,” Jaskier said softly. “They are important to you.”

Geralt remained quiet for a little while, just staring at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “They are,” he said finally. Geralt’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “I was wondering…if maybe you would like to meet them?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up. “Are they near?”

Geralt shook his head and turned away, clearly pretending to check over Roach’s saddle.

“You could meet them if you came with me to Kaer Morhen.”

For once, Jaskier was at a loss of words. He must have stayed silent for so long that Geralt began worrying, for he turned back to him with a frown.

Before he could take his words back, Jaskier surged forward and slung his arms around him.

“I would love to come with you.”

On their way up the mountain, Jaskier needled Geralt with questions about the keep, but Geralt refused to give as much as a hint of what Jaskier had to expect from a winter with the wolves.

Jaskier considered pouting, but the twinkle in Geralt’s eyes made it impossible to even pretend to be mad at him. Not when it was clear that Geralt was going back to his taciturn ways to have the keep be a surprise for Jaskier.

And a surprise it was.

When the walls of Kaer Morhen came into view, towering over them, Jaskier lost all ability to speak. His eyes raked over the massive doors, the towers that stretched high into the sky and every part of the courtyard that he just itched to explore.

A soft noise beside him made him turn towards Geralt again. His breath caught in his throat when he met Geralt’s gaze, soft and holding more fondness than Geralt had ever allowed himself to show Jaskier while they were out there on the continent.

Geralt hadn’t lied when he had said that Jaskier would get along with his family. It didn’t take more than one night of drinking together, for Jaskier to decide that the other wolf witchers were his friends now too.

Eskel showed him his poetry collection and his eyes lit up when Jaskier promised to discuss every poem in it with Eskel.

Vesemir was happy to have someone who listened to him with enthusiasm when he talked about monsters and fighting techniques for once.

Lambert was a little harder to get to warm up to Jaskier, but after Jaskier had beaten Geralt in a round of gwent – granted, he had cheated shamelessly, but a victory was a victory – Lambert had barked out a laugh and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, proclaiming that he should come to Kaer Morhen more often.

It was mid-winter when the inevitable happened again. Jaskier had started to look forward to it, but he hadn’t realised just what it would mean if Geralt slipped up again while at Kaer Morhen.

Lambert, Geralt and Jaskier were just shovelling snow near the stables, when it happened. Well, maybe calling it ‘shovelling snow’ was a bit generous. That certainly was what they were supposed to do, but after Lambert had thrown the snow to the side with enough enthusiasm to –maybe? – accidentally hit Jaskier with it instead, it had turned into a full blown snow fight, in which Jaskier constantly shifted sides from ganging up on Lambert with Geralt and throwing his arms around Geralt in a hug to keep him in place while Lambert put snow down Geralt’s shirt.

“Stop it,” Geralt laughed and wriggled in his grip, enough to be playful, but coming nowhere close to using even half of his full strength. “Let go, or I’ll throw you into a pile of snow, Roach!”

“I’d like to see you try.” Jaskier smirked and tightened his hold. “Lambert, now!”

But Lambert was frozen mid-motion of grabbing more snow. He stared at Geralt with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Roach?” He asked with a snort. “Did you just call him Roach?”

In Jaskier’s arms, Geralt stiffened. “I-“

He broke off, throwing a quick glance at Jaskier over his shoulder, before looking away again. Yet, it had been enough for Jaskier to see the look that he had come to understand as blind panic on Geralt’s face.

Before Jaskier could ask him what was wrong, Geralt shrugged him off, easily freeing himself from the hold he had so happily endured before.

“Geralt-“

But Geralt didn’t even falter in his steps. He all but fled into the stables.

Jaskier exchanged a quick look with Lambert who shrugged as if he didn’t care, but followed Geralt’s flight with his eyes and a hint of worry in his expression.

Jaskier didn’t hesitate any longer and ran after Geralt.

Geralt must have heard him enter the stables and hid, for when Jaskier’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier’s steps slowed and he rubbed his fingers together nervously.

“Geralt?” He asked uncertainly. The only reply he got was the huffing from the horses.

Jaskier’s heart sank, but he set his brow in determination. In two strides, he walked over to the box with Roach, who blew a breath of hot air into his face in greeting.

“Hello there, Roach,” Jaskier began, loud enough that there was no mistaking that he fully intended Geralt to hear him, even though he knew it was unnecessary to raise his voice since Geralt would have been able to hear him even if he had whispered. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, my dear lady. Did you know that Geralt sometimes calls me by your name?”

Roach huffed and Jaskier began stroking the white stripe on her face.

“Yes, I know,” he continued, “But I swear he doesn’t mean it as an insult to you. I for one am actually rather flattered. I’ve been called by the wrong name before, and usually it’s something that makes me feel like the other person doesn’t think I’m worth having my name remembered. Or as if they don’t respect me enough to learn it. But it’s different with Geralt.” His voice softened. “If he calls me by the name of someone who means so much to him, then that is the highest honour I can imagine. You have no idea how happy it makes me that he trusts and likes me enough to talk to me like he does to his other most faithful friend. And can I tell you a secret, dear Roach?” He got up on his tiptoes to get closer to her ear as he stage-whispered, “Geralt is really important to me too. And I really want him to know that I mean it when I say that he’s my best friend, whether he calls me by your name or mine.”

Behind him, straw rustled and the tapping of steps announced that Geralt was coming closer. Not only that, but the fact that Jaskier could hear Geralt approach, meant that Geralt put effort into not startling him. Jaskier hid his smile in Roach’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Geralt approach slowly, as if he was unsure about every step he took.

Finally, he reached them, standing on Roach’s other side. Jaskier heard him take in a deep breath and he already readied himself to listen to Geralt talk to Roach as he had just done, but then Geralt rounded Roach and came to stand before Jaskier instead.

In his eyes, fear and fondness fought a battle, that fondness won when Jaskier reached out a hand to softly brush it against Geralt’s. With a sigh that expanded Geralt’s entire chest, Geralt intertwined their fingers.

“I-thank you,” Geralt said, looking down at their joined hands. “For understanding. For not being angry at me. I – you are important to me too. More important than anyone outside of Kaer Morhen ever was.” He lifted his head again, giving Jaskier an intense look that sent shivers up his spine. With more meaning, affection and trust than anyone had ever spoken Jaskier’s name with, Geralt said, “You are the most important person to me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes stung and he let out a small choked noise. Without thinking, he tugged Geralt closer and flung his free arm around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he could and burying his head in Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s hand that wasn’t holding Jaskier’s still, came up to cradle the back of his head and Geralt’s cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice got muffled but the low rumble in Geralt’s chest as he hummed in acknowledgement told Jaskier that he could still understand him. “You’re my most important person too. My Geralt.”

“My Jaskier.”

Over the years, Geralt slipped up less and less. Jaskier would have been almost disappointed, if he didn’t like the way Geralt called him “my Jaskier”, or “my Buttercup” so much.

Well. Jaskier had been wrong before when it came to Geralt and as it turned out, he continued to have this terrible habit, try as he might to get rid of it. Because, when Jaskier had assumed that Geralt didn’t slip up on his and Roach’s names anymore, he had been dead wrong.

The thing was, after years of having Jaskier at his side, of being close to him and loving him with his entire being, Geralt had gotten so used to talking to Jaskier, that one day, while Jaskier was plucking away idly at his lute and Geralt was brushing down Roach, he heard the most curious thing, that made him smile wider than he had ever smiled before.

“There you go,” Geralt said as he brushed down Roach’s flank and she kept turning her head, trying to get to the treats in Geralt’s pockets. “You’ll get the treats if you’re a good horse and stay still for once, Jaskier.”

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt #jaskier #roach #fic #fanfic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher #my writing #i posted this a while ago on ao3 and completely forgot if I had posted it here as well #fluff

665 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 3 years

Text

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance.

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day.

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight."

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little.

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible.

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills.

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep.

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty?

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek.

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position.

"Your spine will thank me later," he said.

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance.

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?!

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you!

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious.

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel.

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.

#star wars #star wars wednesday #fic prompts #writing prompts #Reign of Vader #luke skywalker #darth vader #ooc vader because Palpatine is dead and he's trying to decide what that means for his personality #luke is very uncomfortable but seeing Vader and Artoo arguing over upgrades helps #palpatine did not give vader any indication that ruling an empire meant actually working #he's operating on the bits and pieces he remembers from Padme's work and hating every minute of it #guess how long the empire is going to last when it turns out the emperor hates being in charge of that much minutiae #dad vader #he's actually making an effort

274 notes · View notes

thismaydestroyme · 3 years

Text

Denver: Love on Tour

i didn’t have any idea what i wanted to name this blurb. this shit wiped me out, and i don’t know if this is any good. i can’t bring myself to reread this over. it’s currently 2 in the morning, and i’m about to hit the hay. i hope you find this somewhat tolerable.

warning: that’s a loaded question

word count: 3084

That fucking little teasing dance Harry did while he was performing ‘Woman” will forever be ingrained in your head.

That fucking cheeky bastard.

Harry is so loved on stage and he was feeling himself the entire night, that’s why he did that cheeky dance because he knew his beautiful girlfriend, Y/N would go in a frenzy and that’s what he wanted. Of course he had to throw something in for Y/N, what kind of boyfriend would he be?

When Harry was finished with his show, he ran backstage to find Y/N, but he had to stop and appreciate everyone’s remark when they were throwing gratitude and compliments his way by his performance tonight. We could all say Denver won this round compared to the Las Vegas show.

“Harry, you ate that!”

“You whore!”

“That was amazing”

“You deserve to have your ass eaten out.”

Harry immediately turned around to find who said that last part, because deep down he knew. Y/N pushed some people out of her way while she was trudging her way to Harry. Y/N is wearing her infamous white booties so when she walks you can hear her coming from all directions. When Y/N enters the room, all eyes are all on you because you own every room you’re graced in. When you finally get to Harry he’s already giving you a smirk which you gave right back.

“Oh no…. Not this again.” Couple of people behind you said that while they start packing up their gears so you guys can leave and head to your next location and that’s San Antonio.

“Hello puppet. I see that you’re in your dom headspace. I can see it in your eyes.” Harry said while he brought his hand to rub your cheeks. You give him a glare and push his hand away and you start walking back to the table which is covered by random shit- which you have to pack and clean. You hate the idea of leaving things a mess, so when you guys leave, people here won’t have to clean up all the mess you guys left behind.

You can be a bitch, but you’re not disrespectful.

After a couple of minutes has passed where you put things back in the duffle bags that you brought and wipe down the vanities and tables with Lysol. Making sure things are squeaky clean.

You feel a presence behind you, but you don’t have to wonder who because you can spot that Tobacco Vanille fragrance anywhere. You turn around and you see Harry looking down at you, his eyes burning onto yours.

“Why are you being like this?” Harry asked.

“I’m not being like anything, you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“I just didn’t like you doing that ‘little’ dance. Flaunting your hips around and toying with your nipples while you were performing, Women.” You said annoyingly. You try to turn around, but Harry grabs your hand to make you stand right in front of him.

“Are you jealous?” Harry said all knowling with that fucking grin on his damn face. You try to look over him because you don’t want to have this conversion, but he grabs your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. His green eyes are so blown out, you can hardly see any green.

“I’m not-”

“Pet. Stop it right now. Answer my question.”

“Yes. I was jealous” You mumbled hoping he’ll drop it.

“Awe, baby. That’s adorable.” He giggled.

“It’s not funny nor adorable.” You push his hands away to storm off but he still is holding onto you.

Harry looks around and you’re not sure what he wanted because this room is already packed up and no one else is here beside you too. Then you realize there's a couch in this room and before you know it Harry is trudging you along to the couch. He plops down and you’re still standing between his legs that he purposely did on purpose because he loves it when you’re between his legs. His arms are stretched out, hanging loosely on the back of the couch. He’s staring right at you. Fuck, this man right here with his red pants on, with his blue and white strip button up shirt with his red spenders on. Like you said… this outfit beats the Las Vegas show.

“What you want, baby, you want to punish me?” He said while wiggling his eyebrows, which you taught him to do. It took him a year to master it.

You cross your arms which have your boobs stand out more.

“Puppet, stop it, m’okay? Come to daddy.”

You turn your head around because you’re just annoyed with the fact he turns himself on so easily and the fans witnessed it. You’re happy and glad Harry is finally at this point in his life where he’s able to live his authentic life and he’s able to express himself in the most beautiful way, but when it comes to his horny meter, you want to be the only one to see it.

“C’mon darling, I will be a good boy for mommy. I want to be a good boy to mommy.” He said in the wine.

Fuck.

You try to ignore his neediness, but it’s so hard to because he knows how much hearing him whine will send you into an overdrive. You try to ignore your needs, but you feel his hand on your waist, trancing his name on your waist. Due to the low rise jean you’re currently wearing, his name is on display. His hands started to work his way up to your stomach which he stopped at your belly button so he could play with your belly ring.

His hands are so gentle and soft. It feels like Harry is doing figure skating motion on your stomach. It flows in the wind. You start to completely forget why you’re even mad at him. Your eyes flutter close. Everything just feels heightened.

You jolt because you feel Harry’s lips on your stomach and his hands are roaming your back and inching it way to your ass, but before he could even reach it he brings his hands back up. Harry is pampering you in kisses. It’s like his way of apologizing. Your hand finds its way to the back of his hair to tossle it up a bit. You feel so good and it feels so right.

“Mommy?” Harry whispered which broke you out of your trance. You open your eyes and you see Harry looking at you with admiration.

“Yes, baby?” You said in a gentle tone still twirling his hair in your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I went overboard on stage. I just want you to know that.” He slowly gave you a kiss on your blushy stomach which resulted in you moaning.

“It’s okay baby. I’m not mad, I’m just sad I wasn’t the one to get you turned on.” You lean down to kiss the top of his head, so he knows that you’re not angry with him.

“NO! The reason I did that was because I was thinking about you when I was singing Woman.” He rushed out his words.

You bring your hand to his chin so he could look at you, “is that true, my pretty boy?”

“Yes! I want to be a good boy. That’s all I want. Please.” He rambled and immediately started kissing your stomach over and over again. Not missing any skin.

“Fuck… you’re such a good boy to mommy. Mmmhh.” Harry starts sucking your skin. You toss your head back letting this feeling consume you.

“H. I think we need to stop. We have to leave.” Your words were so broken up.

There was a plop sound due to Harry letting go of your extra skin that was in his mouth just a second ago.

“Don’t worry about that. I told them to leave. We’ll just order an uber when they’re at their resting stop.” Harry went back to your stomach and his hands are roaming freely. You don’t want to argue with him how that’s unprofessional, but at this moment… fuck it.

“Okay baby.” You said to him. People wouldn’t think having someone making out with your stomach wouldn’t be considered sexy or whatnot but this moment is so intimate and so perfect for the both of you.

While you have Harry praising you, you couldn’t help but think what he did on stage toying with his nipples. Just that sight almost had you cuming, but you had to control yourself, but now you don’t have to.

You pushed Harry’s face away from your stomach and you could tell there was a hint of defiance in his eyes, so you had to stop it before he actually got in trouble.

“That’s not a good boy behavior. Sit back.” Harry let out an annoyance huff, but you stopped it by glaring at him. He obeyed and he moved himself back on the couch.

“Happy now?” Harry lifts his arms up so he can let it land on his thighs. He’s being a brat now.

“Bad boys don’t get treats. So if I was you, I would stop this shenanigan right now.” You glared at him. He softened his eyes.

“Good boy.”

You walked little more up to him so it would be easier for you sit on his lap facing him. You lower yourself onto him. His hands found it’s way to your waist. When you're completely on his lap you feel a nice bulge forming, you couldn’t help but to smile. You raise your eyebrows which he responded by pulling you closer to him.

“I didn’t realize how needy my superstar is.” You taunted him. You start moving your hips into a small circle which results in a moan getting stuck at the back of his throat.

“Awe, my baby is all choked up. Do you need mommy to help you?” You whispered to him leaning over to toy with his earlobe with your tongue. Slowly flicking it. Harry goes into a frenzy when you play around with his earlobes.

“I- I’m- MOMMY!”

You bite on his earlobe the way he likes it. You suck on his earlobe to bring him back and help with the sharp bite.

“Don’t worry, I got you darling.” You whispered. You change position and start licking his neck to collect the remnant of his sweat. It’s so salty, but so tasty. You start sucking him kissing and leaving wet kisses to soothe the pain. The way Harry is holding onto your waist you know when you wake up there will be bruises which you don’t mind because you love seeing the marks he left you to remember him by. You’re still swaying your hips, but it’s getting hard to do due to how Harry cemented his hands onto your waist.

You’re suctioning your mouth on his neck but you can feel his veins in your mouth due how turned on he is. You couldn't tell he’s holding himself back, which you don’t like. So you remove your mouth from his neck which resulted with him whining.

Your eyes connected with his and omg, you wished your phone wasn’t at the far end of the room because you would want to take a picture of his beautiful face.

“Don’t hold back. If you do I will walk away.” Before he could say anything your lips landed on his and shit, that kiss is wet, messy, and a lot of fucking tongue. His tongue immidently found yours and you began to suck on the tip of his tongue. He had to open his mouth more so you can have enough room to suck his tongue. The mix of yours and Harry saliva are all over you guys. You pull Harry’s hair so his head is more lean back so you could do something you guys both shared a common interest in and that is spit play.

You roughly spit in his mouth and the sound he made was so delicious. He closed his mouth to form his own spit and before you knew it, it landed on your face. All over your face. His salvia landed on your eyelids, your mouth, and your forehead.

You grab his cheeks and kiss him with so much force. The room is filled with pronographic sounds that’s both making you guys get so turned on because you guys both love hearing the sound you too make together. You remove your lips from his and you push yourself off from Harry so you can be right next to him. Before he could say anything you grab his face so he can turn to you and go back to feverishly kissing him all over.

The image of him on stage with him swaying his hips and giving his nipple attention is something that’s not leaving you anytime soon. Both of your lips separated and Harry breathing is all over the place, if you didn’t see him taking his inhaler after he got off the stage you would’ve immediately gotten up and fetched his inhaler.

“Stop teasing me.” He said groggily.

“I’m not teasing anymore, baby.” You gave him a peck on his lips. You pushed him back so his back hit the back of the cushion. You’re eyeing him up and down, trying to figure out what you want to do to him, after a couple of seconds you have an idea.

“Take off your shirt.” You said.

Harry immediately did what you asked him to do. Snapping off his suspenders and unbuttoning his blouse. His whole stomach, his butterfly, and the bird tattoos are finally on display. Before you knew it your lips were on one of his four nipples. You suck on his nipple, but make sure you pay attention to the other three. You’re twirling your tongue around while sucking it because you love it when Harry does it to you.

“Fuck baby. Omg.” Harry moaned out. His hand is at the back of your head playing with your hair. You move on to the next but instead of toying with his nipples with that one hand that isn’t be preoccupied you bring that hand to his covered bulge.

Harry landed a nice smack to your ass. You made eye contact with him. You let go of his nipple and you dribble spit over that nipple you were just sucking. He look at you like you were going to eat him alive. You gave him a smirk and went back to paying attention to his nipples. You keep palming his crotch while twirling your tongue, on his nipples. Keeping track of three nipples while you’re sucking on one is hard, but hey, whatever your pretty boy wants, he gets.

“Mommy, I’m feeling weird.” Harry whined. You immediately stopped what you were doing because the last you wanted to do is make him feel uncomfortable.

“I stop, I stop. Are you okay? What did I do? I’m sor-”

“No, everything is fine, more than fine… amazing I might add. Just, you’re sucking on my nipples and palming my dick which is so simple, but that simplicity makes me feel I might cum any minute.” Harry whispered feeling lost how such a small act of you has him feeling like he could cum, just by this.

“So I didn’t do anything wrong?” You asked Harry, making sure you’re not misinterpreting any of this.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Well…. If you want, I would like to make you cum just by doing that, if you don’t mind?”

“Yes, mommy. Do whatever you like to do with me.” Harry rambled. You let out a toothy grin how excited and new how all of this is for him.

You lean over to give him a quick peck on his lip, “good boy.” You said while giving him his last peck.

Your wet mouth went back to his nipples and your hand went back giving his cock attention. His cock is settled on his left thigh due to how hard he is. Just the image of him cuming on himself is something you were so destined to achieve.

You lap your tongue around his areola. Just the sound of it all has you feeling something running down your inner legs, you know you have to take care of it, but not right now. Not at this moment.

You tighten your grip on his cock to hopefully create a nice friction which rewards you having to listen to Harry’s moans. Harry’s hands are on your head trying to compose himself, but you knew the second he made that sound you knew he would cum any second.

You remove your mouth from his nipples and went down to the other one that was below the one you just previously sucked. You guess this nipple holds a lot of sensitivity because Harry buckled himself out and let out a horrific sound you weren’t expecting to come down. So you decided the pace you were going at, will have him cuming, pretty fucking soon.

“Baby, just like that. I’m going to cum. Can I take my cock out?” He whined. He can’t help himself to stay still due to the overload his body is feeling. This is pretty much all new to him.

You exchange positions so your mouth is next to his ear, so he knows that isn’t going to happen. “No baby, I want you to cum just the way you are. I want the world to see how filthy you are by cuming in your trousers. Be a good boy and cum for me.”

“Baby- Fuck” You start speeding your pace and you attach your lips to his to swallow every drop of his moan. After a couple of minutes of passionately kissing and letting him use your mouth as a soundproof room to let his moans and rubbing him off inside his pants, he finally came undone.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yes!” You feel something warm coming out of him. You start massaging his swollen cock to bring him down your high and for him to come back to you. You start whispering sweetnothings to his ear to help him come back.

His head fell onto your shoulder and you started soothing his hair pampering him with praises and love. Your baby boy deserves the world, and just wait and see what you have planned for him for the next couple of months.

#harry blurb #blurb #harry styles #harry styles reader insert #harry styles y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry oneshot #oneshot #writing #smut #thismaydestroyme

213 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!!

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread.

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing.

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly.

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed.

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds.

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way.

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night?

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark.

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan.

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer.

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty.

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.”

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.”

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down.

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.”

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting.

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit.

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?”

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.”

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.”

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.”

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?”

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.”

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.”

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second.

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?”

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.”

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?”

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.”

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.”

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t.

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone.

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways.

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.”

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place.

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.”

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.”

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me.

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches.

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.”

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.”

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.”

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.”

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.”

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.”

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him.

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact.

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.”

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not.

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…”

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.”

“More than I should?”

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.”

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?”

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.”

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.”

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?”

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.”

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--”

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.”

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.”

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.”

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.”

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh.

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.”

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown.

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.”

“Kirigan--”

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.”

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear.

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it.

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before.

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.”

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine.

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.”

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip.

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.”

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly.

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more.

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.”

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.”

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise.

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.”

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.”

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--”

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.”

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?”

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.”

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible.

He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is.

“Soon,” he promises again.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

295 notes · View notes

le-poor-writer · 2 years

Text

By the Counter [2/2] (Bartender!Diluc x F!Reader)

If you haven’t read part 1, I recommend you do so first. If you did, enjoy my lovelies!

Diluc Ragnvindr, sole heir to the Ragnvindr family after his father died of heart disease years ago. He was an only son, with Kaeya Alberich being the family's ward. Diluc inherited Dawn Winery, a wine empire passed down from generation to generation which was and still is famous for their Dandelion Wine. He also runs Angel's Share, a once small bar opened by the late Crepus. Being a wine tycoon at such a young age, certainly made him well known despite people not knowing what he actually looked like. Rumour has it that he is very much indeed handsome and charismatic, making him to be one of the most sought out bachelors in the country much to his annoyance.

Although now he does wish his title as an 'eligible bachelor' serves its purpose now than ever. Marching with confident strides into Angel's Share despite how nervous he actually is. He didn't plan to take a shift tonight. No, he actually had other plans. One which did not go as how he hoped it would be. Well he should have known better than to take suggestions from Kaeya. Kaeya of all people, Archons! But Albedo too thought it would be a good idea. But then again one should know that Albedo is only interested to see how well it would go rather than hoping how well it actually goes. In summary, it is inefficient to have someone else to handle your personal affairs especially when it came to matters of the heart.

There by the counter, her figure sitting alone. Head resting on her hand while the other twirling a wine glass. Looking as bored as an idle lass during a warm midsummer afternoon. Eyes glazed, whether it be from alcohol or her simply lost in thoughts. It better not be the former, she doesn't have much tolerance for such beverages. He suppose he should warn the staff not to give her too much... But it would raise suspicions for the master to deny income and would certainly provide gossip for them. But then again he may or may not be obvious in his affections for her. Even Elzer commented on how his expression seem to soften these days. Dear Archons, he really is in love isn't he? Which is why he will fix this mess right now.

~~~~

It all started a few days ago. On a Wednesday night.

"Diluc, it's been a while since I last saw you." Albedo greeted. Taking his usual seat where he can see and chat with him. "You rarely come down on Wednesdays now."

"Hmph." was all the bartender replied as he proceeded to prepare the customer's usual.

"Well I heard from the people here that the master would come on Friday nights instead. And he often appeared to be in a very pleasant mood." Kaeya cuts in as he glided to a seat beside Albedo.

"Well what brings you here, Kaeya." the red-head giving him a stink eye. "Got dumped by another fling?"

"There are many reasons one has to drink on weekdays aside from getting dumped by a fling, Master Diluc. One example is to hear stories of another's fling." Ice cold eyes sneering at the red fiery ones.

Diluc placed down Albedo's drink. Sighing under his breath as he grabbed another glass to prepare Kaeya's usual. "She's not a fling." he muttered.

"Dear Archons, is the lone eagle Diluc Ragnvindr craving for the presence of another?"

"And are you here to cause a nuisance?"

Kaeya put his hands up, admiting he might just stoked the fire too much. "There's no need to call the security on me again. I came for my usual, Dawn Winery's infamous Dandelion Wine as you have already prepared in your hand."

If it weren't unsightly, Diluc might have just poured the bottle of wine on Kaeya's smug grin. However he knew there was some truth to what he was saying. He was craving for (y/n)'s presence these days. Hers is the dawn to his dark night. The promise of future warmth to his cold past. Her gentle cheerfulness and kindness reminiscent of the sounds of tinkling bells brought out by the light wind. Just pleasant and homely. The embodiment of lovely itself. Diluc scoffed. Look at him, speaking in sonnets now. It was a good thing he kept these thoughts to himself. God forbid Kaeya gets a hold of more substance to mock him.

"I'm actually here for a reason more than a drink." Albedo spoke up after silently observing the spectacle for quite some time. "My parents and I enjoyed the lunches and dinners we had with you the other day. And the idea of having Dawn Winery's owner as their son-in-law tickles their fancy. My father, from a business perspective as you might be aware and my mother, from a social standing perspective. Hence, what I'm saying is that they'd like you to meet their daughter- my sister, for a marriage arrangement."

Diluc did not look surprised from Albedo's perspective. Well if the slightly raise eyebrows were anything to go by at least. "You're not glad?"

It's not that he isn't happy. He was ecstatic even. However, (y/n) wouldn't like that. She had been so happy that her mother wasn't angry at her for the dinner fiasco. Also the fact that her mother hadn't been setting her up with anybody. With every visit on Friday night, she beamed so radiantly that he didn't have the heart to tell her it was him who caused it all. He wanted to tell her after the first luncheon he had with her parents but didn't get to as their conversation tended to steers towards getting to know each other's personality, her childhood and their likes and dislikes. By the end of their rendesvouz, he had forgotten about his intention. And he forgot about it again up to till the point where he didn't know how to tell her. What would (y/n) think of him now that he had been secretly (albeit unintentionally) meeting her family behind her back?

All this he confessed to Albedo begrudgingly. It was not like him to not have a plan. But Archons did this lady turned his world upside down. "I think I should tell her, this Friday."

"And I think, you shouldn't." Kaeya interrupted. Pouring himself another glass as he earned a sharp glare from Diluc. "You've come this far, might just go through it till the end. Besides, being all secretive is one of your fortes isn't it?" Also, Kaeya thinks she might be in love with him as he is to her. But he's not going to tell him that. Diluc should be getting those answers from her, not him.

Diluc glanced at Albedo. Hoping to get an insight from someone of her kin.

"(Y/n) loves surprises. But I don't guarantee if she'll like this one or not. But I suppose there is no harm to this. Regardless whether she like it or not, she's not one to disobey mother. So she will most definitely be dragged to this dinner." In all honesty, Albedo just wanted to see how it all unfolds. Sure she likes small cute surprises, but what about big life changing ones?

He had a bad feeling about this. Somewhere at the corner of his mind, a tiny Diluc lecturing him how bad of an idea this is. But Diluc has nil experience in relationships. He never had the time for it. Always occupied with maintaining the family legacy and fending off people predating on the Ragnvindr empire. He was living in a lonely world. Hence when she came into his life, bringing the sunshine with her, he didn't feel so alone anymore. Which is why he didn't want to mess this up. He nodded towards the two gentlemen with a sigh.

Come Friday as he bartends by the counter. Waiting nervously for the lady of the hour. And in she came with an obvious frown on her face. Whatever it is, this seems to call for a Dirty Shirley cocktail. She likes soda after all. Quietly she took her place, greeting him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Accepting the drink with a small thank you. It went on like this for a good half an hour. Both basking in each other's presence. Diluc serving his clients and (y/n) just watching him work over her drink. The clinking of glass, soft chatters of the patrons and light jazz music serving as white noise for them.

"It seems that my mother had plans after all."

Here it is.

"She was being acquainted by some gentleman. Very rich and successful than the last time. Which very much tickle her fancy."

Funny how her use of vocabulary is similar to her brother's.

"I'd hate to go to be honest. But it's not like mother will listen when she has already set this up. Heck it is tomorrow and she's only told me yesterday. I wish I could be like you. Not giving a damn about what people say. Making decisions for your own self."

"Why not just attend it." He suggested. As much Diluc would like to admit that he's the one she's meeting tomorrow, Kaeya and Albedo thought it was better otherwise. And he would have to trust what they say.

"Excuse me?" it was clear that she was offended.

"Who knows if this person really is better than the last? Maybe your mother did find a good match. And if you don't like it, you can just reject the man."

"Diluc, you do understand that me going to this dinner would be as good as me being engaged. I've told you didn't I, that corporate families like mine would have set this in stone regardless of what I think and this could only be annulled if both our families see no benefit to our union. Or if during the course of courting, we act like complete oil and water then I suppose they might consider calling it off. "

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You'll just have to disagree with everything he says then." He said reassuringly.

She looked at him dejectedly, voice faltering. "Is that all you have to say?"

Diluc was struck by confusion. What did she want him to say? With how sad she looked, he has the strongest urge to hold her hand. He wanted to tell her everything will be fine, because it will be him that she's meeting. But because it will be him that he's scared. What if she's not interested in him like he thought and if she knew that tomorrow they'll be meeting, she'll reject him now. But if she really doesn't like him, then isn't it crueler to force her like this? He hadn't thought that when Albedo hinted at him to contact their parents. All he could think of that time was not wanting to lose to her to someone else. He wanted to say something but his throat feels congested.

"Sorry, it seems I have other matters to attend." she lied. Turning her back to him and left with haste. Knowing the fact that he knew she lied.

~~~~

10 minutes before the dinner. Diluc sat in a private dining room together with his supposedly future in-laws. He fumbled with the left cuff of his dress shirt a little as they chatted about future business prospects. Albedo will be arriving late as he has another appointment before. He will also go with (y/n) inside when he arrives so Diluc could only assume she is waiting dreadfully outside. He's nervous at what she'd thought of him later. Will she be glad? Or mad?

"Mother, father, have you been waiting long." Albedo enters the room and went to kiss his mother's cheeks. He nodded towards his father and then Diluc. Taking his seat beside Diluc, he look around the table then at the door. "Where's (y/n)?"

"(Y/n)?" his mother's smile was straining. "I thought we agreed that you'd escort her in?"

"She wasn't outside, so I thought she went in already."

Silence settled upon the room.

It was cut short when a waiter entered the room. "Pardon me, I have a note for a Mr. Albedo, from a Miss (y/n)."

Before Albedo could read the folded note, his mother snatched it away from him. Skimming through it with frantic eyes before letting out a distressed wail. He took the note and read it. He wasn't laughing, no. But it was evident from Diluc's eyes that he was amused. Albedo passed the note that his darling sister wrote to Diluc.

Dearest mother, I love you so but I've had it with your arrangements. I refuse to marry this mere unknown wine tycoon whom you had set me up with for I am in love with a humble bartender. And no one can stop me. Sincerely, (Y/n)

Diluc was at the very least, baffled. He did not expect (y/n) to exhibit this level of rebellious display. And while he did feel somewhat offended to be called a mere unknown wine tycoon, he was very much flattered that she is in love with him, a humble bartender. Which brings the question, he never really did tell her that he is of the owner of the biggest winery industry and the bar that he bartended, didn't he? The story of his childhood stopped at the fact that his father died and he had an annoying adopted brother. She never asked anything more about his familial background, instantly shifted to personal interests instead.

"Oh how could our only daughter do this to us?" the mother sobbed. Snapping Diluc out of his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry to have cause you such distress ma'am." Diluc bowed his head. "If you'll excuse me, allow me to go fix this situation." he left swiftly, leaving behind the confused stares of the parents and an entertained Albedo.

Which brings him to the current situation.

After 5 minutes of standing by the sidelines, he was sure she's drunk. "(Y/n), what are you doing here?" he kept his voice steady.

"Ooh Diluc!" (Y/n) grinned. "Aren't you looking dapper today?"

"You were supposed to be at dinner."

"Did my brother sent you to look for me?" she poured another glass of wine. "Maybe I shouldn't have written that note.."

Diluc took away the bottle from her, earning scowl. "That's enough (y/n)."

"NO!" she yelled. Getting stares from the other people in the bar. Her words appeared to slur a little. "I need more for courage!"

"What would you need courage for?" Diluc inhaled. Trying to calm her down as to not disturb the other patrons. She has already done a lot, what more does she plan to do?

"A confession." she fixated her gaze on his stoic eyes, but if she leaned a little closer she might just hear how loud his heart is. "Dearest bartender of a humble background, I am but a spoiled girl from a rich family. But I love, love and loveee you so. It is almost silly that I do but it is what it is. I do not care to look for riches and success in a man, hence I will not marry that Ragigindir wine tycoon that my mother has set me up with. I want you instead, if you will have me Mr. Diluc... uh... Diluc..."

"Ragnvindr." he look at her, deadpanned. "It's Diluc Ragnvindr."

"What?"

That seemed to sober her up. Followed by the sound of glass breaking. Oh well, it's not like he will charge her for that. But hold up. Mr. Ragnvindr is the name that her mother mentioned. And Diluc's surname is....

"WHAT?"

How is it that after knowing him for more than a month, she knew his hobbies, his favourite drink, his birthday, but she did not know his surname?!

"(Y/n)-"

"How is it you never told me your last name?"

"Well, I apologize it slipped my mind. I know I should've told you. But, you never asked-"

"And you never asked for mine!"

"You are Albedo's sister so of course I already knew."

"Oh." He's got a point there. "But still," there was something that must be addressed. "was it all fun and jokes for you that you met my family already, without me knowing. Was it fun to watch me suffer yesterday?"

Oh no, she's mad. "No, it wasn't. I didn't mean to hide things from you. I wanted to tell you from the start. I was interested in you from our first meeting and I didn't know if you felt the same. And it got harder for me to tell you as time progressed. Albedo did tell me to be quick if I didn't want your mother to set you up with someone else. He and my brother thought I should only tell you today when we are formally acquainted. But all of this is still inexcusable and I can only hope for your forgiveness."

(Y/n) swears she will stab her brother later. And really, what is it with her family members interfering with her love life. But she'll deal with that later. First she must face what is in front of her. As much as how furious she is with the whole situation, she understands this to be a series of misunderstandings and miscommunications. And knowing that, she can't seem to stay mad for long.

"I forgive you. For now."

"Thank you."

"Archons, this a whole mess. How do I even begin to clean up?"

"I suggest we both go meet your parents, and explain the situation as briefly as we can. I can imagine they wouldn't be too keen to know I've approached their only daughter through informal means. Although, I'm sure Albedo has something up his sleeves. Even if he doesn't, your father doesn't seem to want to let go of a potential lifelong partnership. And I heard that your mother started talking to her friends about our union."

"True." she slipped her hand into his as they walk out of the bar.

"And I suppose you should start to learn how to pronounce my last name. It will be yours after all."

#diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x y/n #diluc x fem!reader #diluc x female reader #bartender!diluc #arranged marriage #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin fandom #genshin oneshots #part 2 #diluc ragnvindr #angel's share #dawn winery #misunderstanding #miscommunication #genshin romance #genshin comedy #proposal

88 notes · View notes

asssikawa · 3 years

Text

pretty boy swag

i was just in a silly goofy mood, dont take it seriously pls;; gojo x gn! reader

summary: gojo being a pick me boy for you

AU where curses don’t exist; tw underaged smoking and drinking courtesy of shoko. art by @reiouta

you didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate the menace to society; satoru gojo. as of the passing recent months, he started actually acknowledging your existence after months of hanging around his acquaintances. you weren’t sure if you missed that he walked past you as if you were thin air, constantly bumping shoulders with him or gojo actually pestering you in the name of “wanting to get closer.”

walking down the empty halls of your school, you had memorized each route gojo and his group walked down… just to avoid them. an all too familiar voice followed by a song boomed in the empty hallways; dread immediately rose in you, as you attempted to pick up speed to lose track of the white haired teen. “pretty boy coming through,” he said in a sing-a-long voice, his eyes landing on your distant figure. “(name)!” he called out, making you flinch. slowly, you turned your head, a forced smile burning the sides of your mouth.

“hey gojo,” you squeaked out; you wished you could beat yourself up for sounding so meek. on gojo’s sides, two others peered out, the more tolerable ones from the group; suguru getou and shoko ieiri. a sigh of relief left your mouth upon seeing the two. getou’s usual content expression morphed into one of a sly fox.

“now gojo, it’s not nice to scare the underclassmen. you should know better,” getou said, followed up by shoko’s sarcastic tsk tsk of disappointment.

“right? what would poor utahime think about you bothering her best friend?” shoko said. she wore gojo’s sunglasses, adjusting them every now and then when they slid down her high nose bridge.

you take it back. they were just as bad as him.

gojo’s mouth opened to say something, but the bell cut him off. saved by the bell; quite literally. “get to class,” he said instead, another smirk splitting his face.

“i plan to,” you deadpanned, before hastily rushing to your first period, math. never have you wanted to be in math class so bad until gojo popped into your life. hell, you weren’t even good at math.

why had he started tormenting you out of all people? there was nothing particularly extraordinary about you; maybe it was the fact you were close to utahime? or nanami and haibara?

lost in your thoughts and endless possibilities, you had missed the bell ringing until the bubbly boy peered over your desk. his doe-like eyes scanned your dazed out face. “(name)? earth to (name)?” haibara said, waving his hand in front of your face. the taller blond man sighed, watching you finally snap out of your thoughts.

“you don’t even have any of the notes written, (name), that isn’t good for the quiz tomorrow,” nanami said, pulling out his composition book, before beckoning you to take the notebook.

“kenny,” you started.

“i’ll take that notebook right back if you call me that again.”

“you are godsent,” you said, batting your eyelashes his way. a hearty laugh emitted from haibara, his bright smile nearly lit up nanami’s mood once more.

“what’s got you thinking so hard?” haibara asked, draping his body over the seat while watching you pack up.

“surely if you’re thinking, it’s never good,” nanami muttered, earning an offended ‘hey’ from you. pressing your cheek against your balled fist, letting out a small hum. do you tell them or not?

“it’s just that, you know how gojo had never acknowledged me before? he’s been non stop pestering me these days and i’m thinking to myself; why? he couldn’t possibly like utahime and trying to get information out of me, she hates his guts!” you exclaimed, adjusting the bag over your shoulders. the duo glanced at each other, focusing back on you.

“(name), have you considered that he may like you? you know? have a crush?” haibara said, scratching the back of his head. you stayed silent for a while, pondering on the idea of gojo liking you.

“that’s a joke right,”

“why are you so pessimistic about people actually taking interest in you, romantically?” nanami asked, leaning against the desk.

“no romantic attention from anyone my entire life,” you said, standing from your seat.

“how lonely,” haibara responded.

the last few periods went by quicker than expected. the ring of the bell pulled you out of your thoughts, turning away from the window. it was surprisingly beautiful for this time of year; the skies were blue, soft fluffy clouds passed every now and then. the occasional gust of wind rattled windows of your class as your teacher paused his lecture. you preferred the gloomy weather, but seeing the clear skies was nice. packing up your materials and standing, you peered out the door, widening your eyes. down the hall was your trio of haibara, nanami and utahime… speaking to the other trio. utahime’s raven hair was tied in a low ponytail, a vague look of annoyance washed over on her face as gojo spoke, her expression softened every time shoko had interjected the conversation. you always wondered why the two aren’t dating yet. nanami’s eyes landed on your figure, his fingers pointed downwards towards the steps, in hopes gojo hadn’t seen you yet.

unfortunately for the both of you, he had caught notice of nanami’s subtle hand motions and followed his eyes towards you. “wow, it’s (name)! we were just waiting on you!” gojo said, his sunglasses shifted downwards, revealing his icicle blue eyes. utahime turned towards you, mouthing an ‘i am so sorry.’ reluctantly, your feet dragged along the halls, it felt as if weights were tied around your ankles. eventually, you made it towards the group; gojo’s long arm draped around your shoulders. your heart raced at the sudden gesture, heat raising to your face. “wouldn’t we be so cute together? look how big my hand is compared to theirs!” he exclaimed, his hand engulfed in yours.

“nah, you guys wouldn’t, sorry he’s so annoying, (name). no wonder why getou gets more hoes than you,” shoko said, pulling out a single cigarette and a lighter from her bag. her auburn eyes met yours, “want one?”

“shoko! how many times do i have to say not to smoke? and (name) is young too!” utahime sighed, earning a small ‘sorry’ from the girl. the black haired teen peered over at you, another sly expression settling over his face.

“say, satoru; let me compare hands with (name) too, i want to see something,”

“you can compare from afar,” gojo responded, pulling you closer to his side. a chesire cat grin split shoko’s face, slinging her arm over your body as well.

“cmon satoru, sharing is caring~” her body smelt of husky tobacco, traces of pinewood on her uniform. her breath smelt like strawberry bubblegum; her glossed lips came closer to your ear, “play along,” she whispered, her brunette strands brushing against your cheek. a snore followed by a scoff came from gojo’s scrunched up expression.

“don’t you have a bottle of vodka you should be downing? besides (name) doesn’t like girls like you,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

“well, why don’t we ask (name), what do you say?”

“don’t put them on the spot like that; seriously, you guys, you’re third years for pete’s sake,” utahime swatted shoko’s arm off your body whilst poking gojo’s side, making him squeal as he let go of you. a frown replaced his usual cocky expression.

“geez utahime, i didn’t take you as the jealous type- ouch, what was that for?” gojo exclaimed, the water bottle bouncing off his head. he rubbed his head. you stared at haibara’s sympathetic expression, still processing everything that happened within a matter of minutes.

just what the fuck was going on?

weeks had passed since that incident and things had become fairly normal again. your grades were flourishing, with the help of haibara and nanami. the three of you have been hanging out more often; utahime and shoko finally started dating. the two of them occasionally tagged along with your trio. gojo has finally stopped pestering you; you should be happy, no? you had convinced yourself that you didn’t miss the attention from the white haired teen. everything you did felt empty without his presence.

you had memorized each hallway gojo and his group walked down, passing through them; in hopes he would stop you, calling your name in his usual whiny voice. you didn’t hear his favorite song; no more him bringing you close with his lanky arms. subconsciously, you brought your hand close to your shoulders, feeling the ghost of gojo’s touch. “(name)? what are you doing here? more like, why are you standing there?” a feminine voice called out. you turned, seeing shoko standing down the hall, her bag slugged over her shoulder, a lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her lips.

“shoko,” her name left your lips in a hushed whisper. “why are you here?” she quirked her lip to the side, pursing her pink lips.

“i’m heading to see menace 1 and menace 2, now, answer my question. you hardly come around these parts,” shoko said, leaning against the wall.

“can i come with you?”

“huh… ah, you miss gojo?” overwhelming amounts of embarrassment washed over your expression; you could already sense your face radiating in heat.

“whatever! i just want to check up on him, that’s all.”

walking down the road, you and shoko conversed, her short auburn tresses blowing in the wind. the roads and sidewalks were painted orange as the sun nestled under the skyline.

“i thought you stopped smoking?” you asked, as shoko tossed the finished cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping on it.

“i’m trying for utahime, but it gets hard when i’m stressed, you know? especially with dumb and dumber,” she said, pulling out a silver flask.

“shoko!”

“what? do you want a sip?”

“no!”

sitting at the park, getou and gojo awaited shoko’s arrival. squinting his eyes at the distance, getou spotted two figures walking towards them. “looks like shoko has company,” getou mentioned, looking back at his taller companion. a frustrated groan left gojo; his glasses slipping down his face.

“good god, if she brings utahime again,” he responded, extending his arms on the bench, his legs spread out. a sly smirk twitched onto getou’s face.

“hey shoko and (name)!” getou exclaimed, waving. gojo’s half-lidded eyes shot open at your name, adjusting his sunglasses. his lanky body rose from the bench, straightening out his sluggish position. he cleared his throat, crossing his legs over each other. upon seeing getou and shoko greet one another, your eyes drifted off to the white haired male sitting in the background, avoiding eye contact with you. a crestfallen expression washed over your face, shuffling over to gojo.

“hey, gojo,” you said softly, sitting across from him. he let out a hum of acknowledgement before looking down at the painted bench. “why have you been avoiding me?”

“why have i been avoiding you? i don’t know (name), maybe just maybe, it’s because i don’t want to bother you with my advances, y’know? could be a contributor i guess, i don’t know, it’s a mystery,” gojo responded, traces of sarcasm in his usual bright voice. he was quite literally a child, huh? your mind recoiled, a frown twitching onto your face. is this who you really want to date?

“listen, i know, and i’m sorry; i just miss you a lot, okay? i like you by my side,” you muttered the last part to yourself. unfortunately for you, gojo had heard every single bit of it.

“huh? what did you say?” he teased, resting his hand on top of yours. his glasses slide down his nose, revealing his ice blue eyes. “you like me, eh?”

“don’t push it.”

the winter semester rolled by rather quickly. walking into the heated building, you removed your outside shoes and scarf. after preparing yourself for the long day, you walked down the hallway, spotting your group down the hallway. peering over the group, gojo waved at you with a big smile, his cheeks and nose tip flushed red from the cold. “babe!” he said, walking over to you with opened arms. heat rose to your face, as he wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with small kisses. his cold fingers cupped your feverish skin. “my own personal heater,” he said.

“hey, get a room, you two,” shoko said, pulling out an unlit cigarette. utahime frowned at her, as shoko mumbled a small sorry before putting away the cigarette.

“i know miss locking lips isn’t talking,” gojo sneered back. “guys look at how cute (name) is compared to me! their hands are so small!” he gushed, pressing your warm hands against his.

if it were you four months ago, you’d rip away your hand in disgust, however, a warm smile split your face, holding onto his long slender fingers.

“look they are even holding onto me,” gojo said, as the bell rang. everyone shuffled around to their respective classes as you and your group stayed at the end of the hall. with a smirk, his white eyelashes fluttered under his sunglasses. they slowly went down his nose bridge, exposing his beautiful eyes once more. “get to class.”

#gojou satoru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #shoko x utahime #jjk geto #jjk nanami

121 notes · View notes