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un2-verse · 3 years

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BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

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Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

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The Ways We Meet

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: While trying to avoid another man at an A-list event, you accidentally bump into Henry who has no interest in letting you go despite not even knowing your name.

Notes: idk, I thought it was kinda cute. Pov changes back and forth between Y/N and Henry A LOT. Implied smut (because I’m so damn bad at writing full smut).

Words: 2211

Y/N:

These events pissed you off, they really did. Despite being only a director’s assistant, you were forced to attend. And it wasn’t the tight, sparkly dresses you had to wear that made you miserable, nor the heavy makeup or the overcrowding in rooms that far surpassed fire department code. It was more that you felt out of place and always managed to have one creepy man sense that from a mile away with the intent to pray on what looked like your innocence. You weren’t innocent, by far, but you supposed the impression you gave off by the way you stood away from others, sipping the same drink for a half hour, made sense.

Usually, drinking in a dark corner at an A-list event by the time midnight came around kept you safe. Those creepy men surrendered to your disinterest in them, and ventured to find an easier, more desperate woman. But not tonight. Tonight, this one was persistent.

You didn’t know his name; never let him get close enough to tell you, but he followed you around, not so subtly watching you with a look in his eyes that had you nauseous. Every step he neared you was a step you took in the opposite direction hoping to evade his creepiness.

Henry:

It had been a long night, too long, and Henry wished he could just go back to the hotel and watch a stupid movie until the early hours of the Sunday morning, since there was no way he would get a good nights sleep with the jetlag still wracking his body from the morning before.

He was saying goodbye to a couple coworkers, patting them on their backs in a friendly gesture when his shoulder roughly shoved forward. He stumbled a step, and before he could turn to see why, a woman passed him.

Her body was wrapped a snug, shiny red gown, and she had curls pinned back into an elegant bun, and when she turned to apologize, she lightly touched his bicep, smiling politely before continuing on her path. His breath hitched but she didn’t notice as she was gone a half-second later, buried somewhere in the mass of bodies.

His lips were still parted, stunned, until a friend tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, are you ok?” The friend asked, to which Henry only nodded, then walked away in the direction the woman went.

It took time to find her, but when he did, something in his chest seemed to both tighten and lighten in sync. He watched her from a distance as she took a gulp of the drink in her hand then placed it back on the counter and ducked. Henry chuckled, but then spotted him: A smallish man slowly making his way toward where she was unsuccessfully hiding.

Henry quickly shuffled his way through the crowd, and just moments before the other man could’ve spotted her, Henry snatched her by the arm and pulled her into a corner. With his back to the wall, he faced the crowd, his arms holding her snuggly, chest to chest, until the man passed them by.

Y/N:

“You’re safe now,” A man said, drawing your attention upward, and your eyes couldn’t help but widen. Henry Cavill was looking at you with a playful smirk on his handsome face that you never in a million years would have imagined be directed toward you. “Remember me?”

“Shit,” You cursed yourself. “It was you I bumped into earlier.” What a way to make a first impression. How was it that you always managed to look like an idiot in front of the hottest actors at these parties? This certainly wasn’t the first time. Chris Evans could confirm that, and probably wouldn’t hesitate to.

“It was.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m not normally so rude. I can explain.”

Henry’s shoulders shook as he laughed, and it reminded you that he still held you tight, with an odd protectiveness. “I think I’ve caught on to the situation,” He said. “Do you know that guy?”

You shook your head.

Henry casually nodded at your confirmation, that smile still on his face, but it slipped a moment later and you didn’t have to guess why. He looked back at you. “Do you think you could trust a stranger for a brief minute?”

“W-What?”

“Yes or no?” He quickly asked.

You blinked. “Yea, I guess.”

“Good,” He said, then slammed his lips to yours.

It shocked you but the feeling of having every part of your body pressed against his made you dizzy, and what was meant to force the creeper away, lasted much longer than the minute Henry promised. Many minutes longer. Enough minutes to give you the time to slide your hands up his chest until they settled on the back of his neck. Enough minutes to have him groaning when you softly nibbled on his bottom lip. Enough minutes to have your heart pounding.

You pulled back first when the embarrassment began to flood your body. Chuckling awkwardly, you stepped out of his arms, and said, “Um, thanks for the help…stranger,” then tried to disappear as fast as you could, for the first time thankful of the enormous crowd.

Henry:

She stiffened as his hand clasped around her wrist before she could get away, and when she turned to look at his face, she became no less tense. It made Henry feel uneasy. He liked her a little too much for how long he’d known her—which was nearly no time at all--and when he kissed her with everything he had, he thought it might’ve been enough to get her to stick around, at least for an extra minute or two.

He wasn’t arrogant. Yes, he’d had women tell him he was a good kisser, but he didn’t assume one kiss from him would have her falling on her knees, begging him to take her home. Henry just thought she felt something too. Perhaps more than one should from a stranger’s kiss, but enough of something to make her pause and question why it felt so damn good, just as he had for the millisecond before she bolted. It had him unwilling to give up so soon.

“Now where are you going?” Henry said, trying to hide the twinge of desperation in his voice.

“Sorry, I—”

“What’s your name?” He asked.

She blinked with her big, butterfly-wing-like lashes as if she hadn’t expected him to care. “…Y/N.”

“Ok, well, Y/N, I think that guy got the hint. You don’t have to keep running.”

“You never know.” She shrugged and anxiously bit the inside of her cheek.

“Right then, how about we leave?”

“What?”

“Do you like coffee?”

“…Sometimes,” One corner of her lips hesitantly turned upward. “Not usually at twelve thirty in the morning.”

Henry grinned as his thumb ran back and forth along the inside of her wrist. “Well, decaf is a thing, and I happen to know a place not far from here that’s open for another hour.”

Y/N:

You didn’t know how you managed to be pinned against one of his hotel room walls, but you were. You weren’t drunk from the little alcohol you’d had at the party, and the coffee certainly wasn’t spiked, but you still couldn’t explain how you were now moaning from the feel of Henry’s lips attached to your neck. Not that you were complaining.

“Goddamn,” He groaned against the skin of your collarbone as his fingers bunched the glittery fabric of your gown up until his hand could slip underneath. As it glided up your thigh, his palm left burns from its trail, and your skin grew hotter with each inch he made closer to your core. “You’re like an angel.”

You let out a throaty chuckle. “Hardly.”

Henry lifted his head and his hazy blue eyes met yours. “Hardly, huh?” He said as his index finger ran along the edge of your panties. He could’ve easily tucked a finger under that useless barrier and felt how wet you were.

“Yes,” You smirked, reaching your hand forward and undoing the buckle of his belt. “Hardly.”

Then you lowered to your knees.

Henry:

Henry didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that she was gone. He’d woken up a few times throughout the night, only to fall right back into peaceful sleep when he felt her warm body tucked into him. Each time, he tightened his arm firmly around her waist as she emitted little soft snores. But now, without the weight of her body next to his, Henry felt cold. Only the empty dip in the mattress where she’d laid for hours remained.

Her warmth was gone. She was gone.

And it stung a lot more than it should. He didn’t even know her last name or her age or, hell, anything about her. He knew he shouldn’t be as upset as he was, but he wanted to learn those things. To get to know her. Coffee the night before gave little insight to who she really was. That time was spent throwing flirtatious jokes back and forth, and if he’d have known she wouldn’t have given him the next morning to ask the important things, he’d have slowed himself down.

Fisting his fingers into his hair, Henry groaned at more than just the glaring sunlight streaming through the windows giving him a ripe headache. He shouldn’t be hung up on someone he barely knew. It wasn’t healthy.

Y/N:

God, you hoped you weren’t overstepping your bounds, or worse, being that girl who hangs around after a one-night stand long after the guy wants you to. You just…didn’t want to leave. He surprised you with his sincerity. He seemed to like you, though you didn’t know why, but you liked him, and, for once, you were willing to take the risk of sticking around for the morning after. It could be awkward. It could crash and burn. But if you weren’t going to be brave enough to see how the rest of the day could unfold, you knew you would regret it.

But, staying or not, it didn’t mean you weren’t going to hop down to the hotel lobby as soon as you woke to get your coffee fill. And based on what you saw last night, Henry liked his coffee rich and black.

Henry:

Who was he trying to fool? This was absolutely going to ruin his day. They’d had a rare chemistry that made him feel like he’d known her forever, and the sex certainly didn’t suck. Not even close.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Henry sat up and rubbed his face with both hands. If she wasn’t going to be there, he might as well get dressed and go about his day. At least, that’s what he thought, until he heard the door lock click and the handle turn.

His head shot to the sound, and he was almost stunned when he saw her walk in, shakily balancing two cups of coffee, a danish, and a muffin in her arms. She jumped when she saw him looking at her, still impressively holding on to the breakfast.

“H-Hi,” She said. And, damn, Henry liked that voice.

“Hi,” He smiled back, and at the gesture he could see her shoulders relax.

He stood and walked towards her, neglecting his boxers entirely, just thrilled she hadn’t disappeared forever. She looked down and blushed, then averted her eyes as he began to unload the food from her arms, and one-by-one placed the items on the table. When she still hadn’t looked back at him, he chuckled and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was forced to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be shy on me now.”

He ran his hands down her arms and grabbed both of her hands in his when she sighed and said “Sorry, I’m not…” She took a breath,” I don’t usually do this.”

“Hook up with strangers?”

“No, stick around the morning after. I kind of assume I’m not wanted, so—”

“You’re wanted here. Believe me,” Henry said fast, because those thoughts were the last he wanted on her mind.

She gaped, but then grinned wide and bright. “Really?”

“Definitely,” He said. “I want to know you.”

Y/N:

He wants to know you. Those words made your stomach flip. Though you took the risk to not sneak out at the break of dawn, you figured the odds of him not shuffling you out the door were unlikely to be in your favor. But you weren’t complaining about being wrong.

You grew embarrassed when you realized that dopey smile was still on your face, so you quickly wiped it off then grabbed the muffin and offered it to him. One corner of his lips quirked in unison with an eyebrow, and he gently took the offering from your hand.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the paper down to take a bite.

“So, um…if we want to get to know one another, what do you want to do?”

Henry only smirked and said “Well…I’ve got some ideas.” He took another bite then licked the remaining crumbs off his lips, which was somehow more distracting than the fact that he was completely naked. “Half of them don’t involve clothes, though.”

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takahero · 3 years

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some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

#the list nobody asked for #im gonna keep adding and editing for personal reasons #it’ll be interesting to see if any of my thoughts change after inkspell tho I’m kinda scared #basta #i could’ve sworn there was another wink!!!!!!!!! I SWEAR #basta: don’t swear oaths u can’t keep #inkheart

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marvelmymarvel · 4 years

Text

Cheer Up

Iruka Umino x Reader

Synopsis: Taking care of Naruto since he was a baby meant many things. It meant cleaning up after his messes and it also meant drying his tears when he kept failing. You were just thankful that Iruka cared for him as much as you did, or cheering the young boy up would be an impossible task.

A/n: I have a thing for mom figure reader. I guess the age is around 24? Idk the reader is older than Iruka but a bit younger than Kakashi.

You pursed your lips at the sight of him alone on the swing, stopping short as you contemplated whether or not to go comfort him. The other shinobi stopped with you, questioning looks being thrown at one another as to why you were lost in thought. “You guys go report to the Hokage, I’m going to talk to him” you whispered out before moving swiftly towards the blonde boy.

You heard the whispers behind you as your teammates wondered how they were going to explain why you were missing and even why Naruto mattered to you in the first place. A frown formed on your lips, your pace faltering as the words struck a chord within you. Anger blossomed in your chest and upon seeing your sudden change in pace, Kakashi spoke up and silenced them instantly.

“We will simply tell him that she was doing her job... Remember, her number one job is to protect and care for Naruto, that will come first. Now lets go” A smile graced your lips at how your best friend backed you up on this, and you were truly thankful for having him in your life. Turning your head, you shot him a smile before moving once more towards Naruto.

Upon reaching the boy, the sound of sniffling hit your ears and your heart broke further at the thought of him crying alone. “Hey buddy” you cooed out, hand pressing against his spine as you knelt down beside him. His eyes were trained on the families celebrating with their brand new gennin sons and daughters, only causing your frown to deepen.

“Hey, its okay” your voice got lighter as your hand drug up and down his spine, fingers lightly scratching at his jacket. His sniffling got worse as more tears fell down his cheek, and that's when you noticed that his signature goggles were missing from his head. “Where are your goggles baby?”

It was meant to be comforting, as if to remind him that no matter what he wore you’d still be proud of him, but it only seemed to worsen everything. “Oh honey! I’m sorry” you called out, arms flinging around his body as you yanked him into your embrace. He began to mumble a teary explanation, proclaiming that he threw it out thinking he would be able to replace it with a headband.

Your own headband pressed against his hair, the cold metal of the plate pressing against his ear. The feeling seemed to make him wail harder. Cursing, you ripped off the headband and showed it to him. “You see this thing? It doesn't mean shit. It doesn’t define who I am and it doesn't define who you are! With it or without it, you are still Naruto Uzumaki. Nothing will change how proud I am of you. This is just a road bump, you can’t give up.” Your words reached him, but you could tell he was still hung up on the stupid headband. Your fingers gripped it angrily, nails digging violently into the stretchy material. You understood why he felt this way, once upon a time, you felt the same, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“Don’t believe me about the headband? Here” feeling sick of holding what he so desired, you whipped the it away, not looking at where you were throwing as you were purely focused on getting the point across. You missed an audible ‘oof’ and instead gripped Naruto’s cheeks in your hands as his eyes were trained on the direction of your throw. “It doesn’t matter, stop looking at it!”

“I get that but you hit Iruka-Sensei with it”

Your eyes widened as you whipped your head towards the direction he was looking, immediately landing on Iruka who was sporting a sheepish smile as he held your headband in one hand and his forehead in the other. Naruto’s cheeks were released as you stood swiftly, apologizing profusely for hitting him on accident. Iruka’s eyes flicked from yours to Naruto’s, trying to piece together the reason for why you threw it in the first place, but once he noticed Naruto’s tear stained cheeks, he understood everything.

His sheepish smile fell as he began to walk towards you two. “I can see you’re upset... But remember that there is always next time... You just have to practice some more on that duplication jutsu” Your eyes widened at his words before you turned and cocked your head down at the boy who was now looking everywhere but at you.

“Duplication Jutsu? Naruto, you know that's my specialty! Why didn’t you come to me”

His cheeks grew a dark shade of red as he kicked his feet below him, the swing swerving by his nervous movements. “I don't know, I didn’t want to bother you and you didn’t have any time to help-” it was your turn to heat up, but not from embarrassment. “Naruto Uzumaki” you hissed, dropping down once more as you gripped the swing, stopping its violent thrashing in its tracks. He slowly raised his eyes to your angry gaze, yet he knew you weren’t mad at him.

“I raised you. I will always have time for you....” Silence filled the space between you as he watched you think through something, “That's it, I’m telling the Hokage that I’m done with missions”

“NO!” Naruto called out, lunging at you as you stood swiftly to grab the headband from Iruka. Naruto beat you to it and ripped the headband from your hand, “Please don’t! It makes you happy-”

“YOU MAKE ME HAPPY”

The families near by froze at your screech, eyes landing on the three of you as Naruto’s lip began to quiver. Feeling the eyes on you, Iruka turned and told them they were dismissed. You mentally thanked him and made a note of thanking him out loud later. “But how can I make you happy if I keep failing at something so simple?” The angry furrow in your brow softened, eyes watering as he once again broke down in front of you. “Naruto-”

“Because she knows what its like to struggle”

You closed your eyes as Iruka came up beside you, dropping down to Naruto’s level as he took the headband from him. “You see her and I, and you see other Ninja’s, but you don’t see the struggle we all went through... Seeing you work hard makes her happy. I know this because it makes me happy”

Your stomach flipped at his words and you had to practically hide the love in your eyes as you opened them to watch Iruka talk. The way he was talking had Naruto entranced, something that was hard for you to do. Iruka’s hand reached up to wipe away the stray tears as he continued his lecture on why this failure is nothing but a speed bump.

“How about I treat you to some ramen, but only if Y/n is okay with that?”

Iruka’s brown eyes flicked up to your wide eyes, causing your heart to skip a beat at how he smiled at you. Afraid of the shakiness in your voice, you nodded silently. Naruto’s screech brought a smile to your face as he attacked you in a hug, his head buried into your stomach as he thanked you over and over again for letting him have his favorite food.

As soon as the hug started, it was over and Naruto was bounding off to go grab his things. Iruka stood once he was gone, towering over you as you kept your eyes trained on the retreating boy. “You’re strong, do you know that?” you smiled sadly at the words, it was almost as if he was reading your thoughts. “Sometimes I question it... Especially when he says that he’s afraid of coming to me... I feel like a failure-”

“Well you two are the same person now aren't you”

Iruka’s hands cupped your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, and now it was your turn for your lip to quiver. “I just feel like a failure sometimes... I hate seeing him fail and there's nothing I can do-"

"How about I give him extra training? Would that help?"

Your glossy eyes widened, heart thumping wildly as you looked up at Iruka in relief. Finally, someone else who was able to help you carry the weight. It wasn't like caring for Naruto was a burden, in fact, it was more rewarding than being a Jonin…

But maybe it was time to have someone by your side....

The tension between you and the teacher grew as you leant more into his hands, a sense of serenity flowing through you like calm waves after a violent storm. You’ve felt this way before with Iruka, the two of you had a fling as teens, but it never went anywhere, especially because of Naruto. You just forgot how much you missed the mans calming aura around you. "EW WHAT THE HECK!" The shriek had the two of you jumping apart, you gripping your chest in shock as Iruka awkwardly scratched the back of his neck with your headband grasped tightly in his other hand. Naruto's eyes darted between the two of you and you could practically see the smoke coming from his ears because of how hard the mental gears were turning.

"You dating my mom Iruka-Sensei?? Cuz if so we are gonna have to have a talk"

The gasp falling from your lips mixed with Naruto's empty threat had Iruka chuckling to himself. “First off, I am not old enough to be your mother, I prefer sister. Second off, that is none of your - oh” The force of Naruto attacking you in a hug stopped you short, the air being knocked out of your lungs along with your words. “You’re my mom, no matter how old you are” it was mumbled, but his words whispered into your stomach had your heart fluttering in unconditional love.

A smile grew on your lips as you raised your hand to drag it through his blonde hair. Bending down, you pressed a kiss awkwardly to the top of his spiky hair, “Alright, why don't you go get Ramen now... Let me get you some money” you began as your hand reached back to grab your wallet. Iruka’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and stopping your movement short. Your eyebrows furrowed as he leaned in closer, his lips right against your ears so he could whisper without Naruto hearing him.

“I got it sweetheart”

The heat spread throughout your neck and face, the nickname that rolled off his tongue causing your brain to short circuit as the blonde boy began to pull away. You had to compose yourself before he noticed the tension, but it was too late...

“Maybe you two should go on a date... This tension is weird!”

“N-Naruto!!!”

The young boy burst out into a fit of giggles, which only made your embarrassment grow tenfold as the man beside you was silent... Why was he silent- Oh....

Your eyes flicked up to his face to find that his cheeks were a bright red as well... Maybe he felt the same way about missing the past... “I think a date would be nice.... But maybe after I treat you to some Ramen Naruto” Naruto’s giggles stopped short and soon a loud, disgusted ‘ewww’ was being thrown your way. Your glare turned to Naruto, as if screaming at him to be silent without saying a word. The young boy shut up immediately and scratched his neck sheepishly, “Okay, well... Can we go get Ramen then Iruka-Sensei??” You mentally thanked the gods that he somehow got the message and switched the subject, hopefully then Iruka would forget this ever happened.

Iruka nodded as the two of them began to walk towards the Ramen shop, leaving you standing there smiling like a fool at how it looked. Raising the boy was so hard, especially when you did it all alone... You kind of wished Iruka was being serious-

“Don’t think I’m forgetting about you... Be ready for the date once I bring home Naruto!”

Your whole body froze as Iruka’s words struck you in the core, so he wasn’t kidding. You quickly picked up your jaw and nodded at him with a smile, “I’ll be waiting!” They continued on their way, leaving you alone in the courtyard outside of the academy. God, you felt like a teenager again! Plopping on to the swing behind you, you began to let your mind wander to the future and the scene you saw today...

You hoped you could relive it forever, and a date with Iruka was the first step to ensuring that.

#iruka imagine #iruka imgaines #iruka x reader #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #iruka umino x reader #iruka umino imagine #iruka umino imagines #iruka #iruka umino #umino iruka x reader #umino iruka imagine #umino iruka imagines

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

Note

Ok but. What is JGY’s reaction to hearing. that. Apparently. A-Fu... doesn’t? Have a knife/lock pick on him at all times???

LXC: Why Would Our Child Have A KNIFE (the lock picks a LITTE more reasonable)

NMJ: Hmmmmm (idk What he’d say)

JGY:.....(trying to figure out how to answer ‘perverts and theifs’ without revealing more of his messed up childhood)

[WOW, I apparently wrote this months ago, put it in my drafts and completely forgot about it?? This happens when A-Fu is about 3, so before And A-Fu Makes Four. TW: Vague allusions to hypothetical and past child abuse/predatory adults]

[3zun Raise Jingyi AU] [Main Fic][Ao3 Link]

“When were we thinking he was going to get one?” Jin Guangyao idly pressed his index finger around the rim of a tiny sauce dish. The force he exerted fell into sync with the steady, confident rhythm of Nie Mingjue’s knife cuts, echoing throughout the kitchen, his eyes watching the dip and flash of the gradient of blue, like the waves of the ocean. Dark to light to dark to light.

Lan Xichen hummed in thought as he sorted the vegetables A-Fu had helped grow in the little practice garden with Huaisang near the late Second Madam Nie’s flowers. His long fingers lightly turned them this way and that against the heavily marked counter. “Their progress dictates when they receive their first spiritual tool, but they received practice swords to build their strength when--” he obligingly cut himself off when Jin Guangyao gave a light, correcting shake of his head without looking up.

“Not a spiritual tool; his first knife for defense. I was taught the precautions of it when I was much younger than him, so I wondered if you had spoken to him about it already and decided to wait.” Dark to light to dark to--the knife strokes had stopped and there was silence. He raised his eyes and found both of them looking at him with varying degrees of confusion and concern.

“What are you talking about? We’ve barely just taught him that knives are not to be touched,” Nie Mingjue demanded with a frown. “The ‘little Baxia incident’ only happened last month. Have you forgotten already?”

Jin Guangyao bit the inside of his cheek to quell the rush of irritation at the accusation in his voice, and responded with a cool smile. “No, I haven’t.”

“Usually they begin with wooden swords to build their strength and to teach them proper etiquette. I’m confused. Have we talked about a knife before?” Lan Xichen was studying his face as if he were trying to draw the answer from him through his gaze, searching and puzzled.

A strangeness that sometimes rose in Jin Guangyao all at once widened the gulf between their lives impossibly under their gaze, yawned to show the canyon of space that separated their experiences and his own. Gentry. Safety. Comfort. The outlines of his own wickedly sharp blades, tucked into sash, sleeve, and boot seemed to warm at his awareness. As soon as he had been able to understand speech and balance on his own feet, there had been a blade in his possession and it was not until this exact moment that he realized this might not be universal.

It shouldn’t surprise him--and in a way, it didn’t. It made sense that they would feel safe within their own lands, their own homes, tucked away in neat little boxes of what was ‘yours’ and ‘mine’. They had not had to live in a place that was ‘theirs’ where you were unwelcome and unsafe. Where anyone could come and go as they pleased. Could use whatever they chose. He had just never considered that anyone would be so...arrogantly confident. Naïve. He had simply thought that perhaps they waited a little longer before teaching their children--though 3 had seemed almost egregiously old.

This was a different world that he was raising his son in. This had been an alienating mistake, once again reminding them that he did not belong, that he was not the same as them. He smiled. “My mistake, I must have misheard.”

The other two traded a look that immediately told him that this was not something they would allow him to brush past. Nie Mingjue’s frown deepened. Purposefully, Jin Guangyao relaxed his shoulders and went back to spinning the dish, as if the tension of an uncomfortable conversation was not already creeping through the room.

“A-Yao,” Xichen said in that gentle way that felt like his hair was being stroked, but in the wrong way, prickles that were not wholly pleasant nor wholly uncomfortable. He wanted to swat away the sensation. This tone was the precursor of being Seen when he had not meant for it. “A-Fu doesn’t need to protect himself here the same way that you did. The sort people he is with are different from the ones that you grew up with.”

His press on the bowl rim was a little too hard this time, spinning it out from under his hand as it wobbled around noisily against the wood. His smile tugged up lopsided, the edge of it sharpening. Because they were alone, together, and they knew him. Because so often he was completely sheathed away. Because it was such a sweet and thoughtless thing to say.

“Er-ge,” he said in the same patient, understanding tone he had used. “I think maybe you’ve forgotten the sort of people who visited where I grew up in the first place.”

The silent consideration that deepened in Lan Xichen’s face was exactly the point; not pity, not shock. But the allowance of a redirection and the reminder of exactly how Jin Guangyao had come to be in this position. Who his mother was. His father. The gentry are not more civilized. Their coin makes their weight and words heavier and their rules and learning help to veil their nature. But at their core, they are just as despicable. The only true difference between them is power.

Watching this disturbance cloud the eyes of the man he loved, he felt the bite of his bitterness melt into a dull ache, a yearning. Except you. Except the most principled and gentle of men. Beyond him, Nie Mingjue was frowning with narrowed eyes and that yearning grew barbs, the sharpness of it a million tiny pinpricks. And you, you....

“Have you seen anyone....” Nie Mingjue’s voice was a dark growl, grating to a stop before he could voice the unspeakable.

When he would have bowed his head or deepened his smile in the presence of others, Jin Guangyao instead let the mask drop away entirely and stared at him. Voice tight and low, he asked, “If I had, would I stay silent?” Would they still be breathing? hung heavy between them all, unspoken because it was unneeded, because he, of all people, knew.

Nie Mingjue blew out a breath and considered the knife in his hands, the bits of greenery clinging to its blade before he shook his head and met his gaze again. “No.”

Well. At least they had that understanding. “No,” he agreed, bringing his voice back to mild, settling his expression. He picked up the dish and set it delicately on its side and spun it, the blurred blue whirl making a little orb slowly traversing its way over the table. “It’s simply something to consider, I suppose.”

He felt the weight of Xichen’s gaze move off of him and knew he was trading a look with Nie Mingjue that he didn’t want to unravel. So he kept his eyes on the liquid shine of that sphere. It was clear to him now that speaking to the both of them together had been a mistake. He had thought it efficient, since they so rarely could bear to inhabit the same room all together. Stupid.

“I’ll start teaching him some more hand to hand combat. Would that suffice?” The rhythmic, solid ‘thunk’ of the knife was back under the shortness in Nie Mingjue’s tone.

A warmth pressed to his side as Xichen slid onto the bench next to him and Jin Guangyao’s hand was engulfed in his gentle grip. He did not look up, but instead used his other hand to flick the now wobbling sauce dish, tilting it off its axis so it rolled out of its spin and clattered noisily to a stop, upside down. No. “Whatever you both think is best. I suppose was being paranoid.”

Xichen’s hand squeezed and Jin Guangyao knew there was enough strength in him to crush every slender bone in his hand. And that Xichen would never use it. “You’re being a good father,” Xichen murmured. “But, remember, A-Yao, he has us. He will never be alone.” Not like you were, he seemed to mean. Oh, Er-ge.

Did your mother mean to die when she did? He wanted to ask, oh so gently. Mingjue’s parents, Huaisang’s? Our son's birth parents? Of all people, would my mother leave me in that place willingly? His palm rested over the back of the little bowl, let the coolness of it combat the spiced and rising wet heat of the kitchen.

“A-Yao?” A murmur as, across the room, Nie Mingjue began loading the wok and loud hissing flooded over them, blurring Xichen’s quiet voice.

Jin Guangyao looked up at him; the sweet sympathy in his dark eyes, the tug of sorrow at his lips. He pulled out a smile and laid his head on Xichen’s firm shoulder. Turning the dish over, he set his finger again on the rim, tipping it rhythmically, now soundless in the boiling noise around them. Dark to light to dark to light.

“Of course.”

#Anonymous #my fic #my stuff #3zun raise jingyi au #Don't know how this one disappeared into my drafts but here it is now!#3zun raise jingyi au content

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lovieebby · 4 years

Text

White Winged Girl (part three)

Part One | Part Two

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: Its not easy to cover up when she’s filled to the brim with anxiety, though Henry could care less. This isn’t a game to him and he’s not letting this little minx slip through his fingers.

WC: 1.2k (whoops)

Warnings: 18+!!!, SMUT SMUT SMUT, rough sex, dubcon if you squint (thats a damn LIE) d/s dynamic, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), cum eatting ?? degradation, spanking & spitting

Note: yall idk what happened, my fingers let loose and im not sorry. & PLEASE can someone talk to me like this??

Also! I know on my mood boards theres ladies that are white and I don’t see the reader as white— she is you and I’m trying to find more plussized women and women that are poc so i can meet all your needs! But rlly lovelies, the reader is you and you are perfect and beautiful all on your own way! I just wanted to clarify that real fast bc I don’t want ppl feeling excluded from my works. I love each and everyone of you and if theres anything more I can do to help please please just say so, don’t be shy I promise I’m nice!! & all the pics were found on Pinterest so the credit goes to all the owners of the photos!!

When the door started to open, it gave her enough time to shuffle back while Henry collected his thoughts and calculated his approach. Her knees shook as a muffled sob rolled its way into her mouth, she tried to cover it but was met with Henry’s steely look. A look he only gave if she was going to be punished or put back into her place.

“I don’t—“ He stuttered, his lips pinching shut as his eyes glared into her disapprovingly. “You think it’s funny to say shit like that?”

He still looked dashing as ever, even if it was him in sweats and a jersey tee. His nostrils flared as he bounced his keys in his hand, chest rising and falling before he reverted his eyes away from her and onto the soft rug she stood on. She forgot he asked a question and dumbly fumbled with her fingers.

Again she looked like a little girl lost in the big blue world ready to cry over the stupidest things, and Henry drank it up. He quickly shoved his keys in his deep pocket and took long strides to her, she froze still.

“Did I fucking studder?” He growled, gripping her chin as he backed her into the green velvet couch.

Such a spoiled thing, he thought, how ungrateful.

She sat with a gasp, chest rising fast with her heartbeat thrumming in her suddenly tight ribcage. She shook her head, a small hiccup bubbling up her throat. Henry moved so quick she swore she would have gotten whiplash as her back hit the seat of the couch. Her legs rose to his chest and her ass was met with harsh slaps.

“No please! I’m sorry!” She cried, trying so hard to cover her cheeks. With fruitless attempts of waving her hands to stop him, Henry’s bigger hand trapped her wrists in his grasp and continued his assault.

Her skin prickled with pain, her frails ending and she took his rough punishment with silent cries and mewls mixed with Henry’s heavy breathing. His curls bounced on his clammy forehead, and with a curt huff he was satisfied with the lesson. But knowing himself, he knew this was just the beginning.

“Who pays for your things, hmm? —Your stupid pretty little things?” He grumbled, pinning her ankles in his armpit, “No, I’m bloody serious! Who?”

His shout made her pant a dry sob, “You d-do.” She whispered weakly.

Henry moved his hands to the seam of her black leggings and ripped roughly at the crotch, exposing her whole self to him and the open air. He didn’t bother to correct her, the answer was good enough and with another slap to her heated cheeks caused her to squeal her answer louder. It was perfect for him.

She tilted her head to look at the older mans face, she’s never gotten punished by him like this and it killed her. It ate at her fragile heart and made her feel terrible for causing his frustration. She desperately wanted to be on his good side; yearned for it like a baby fawn searching out its mother.

“Daddy I—“

“No, nothing from you.” He snapped, his bright eyes nearly eaten by his darkened pupils, making her own eyes clamp shut to let herself believe he couldn’t see her.

She heard his keys jingle before she could open her eyes again, but when she did, they shot open to the rushed and forced entrance of her daddy’s swollen and blunt tip of his cock at her quivering cunt. She gasped loudly at his thrusts, mouth falling open in a broken scream.

“You don’t-“ He panted loudly, her pussy clamping tight around his length, “bite the hand that fucking feeds you!”

His heavy balls smacked against her warmed cheeks, creating a beautiful sound to Henry’s hungry ears. And when he felt the wind from the open door, he made for damn sure it continued to get louder and louder.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Go ahead, tell me you stupid little girl.” He taunted, his cock sliding easily into her drenched canal that made room for Henry to call home.

When she didn’t answer clearly, only in broken moans and garbled whimpers, Henry breathlessly laughed. Her sweet eyes hooded over in a fucked out gleam, her body limp as Henry thrusted deep and rough. All she knew was Henry’s large hands and the way his cock slid so easily into her. The only thing she could do was chant “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” And Henry loved every minute of her broken voice.

He was overly ecstatic of her being broken, watching her look at him like he hung the moon and stars. It was all he craved and he’d do this again and again just so he could see her fucked out face watch him dumbly like a whore. His heavy hand rested on her cheeks, squeezing her them together as he watched her pussy become swollen and red with his undying thrusts.

“You belong to me, got that?” He groaned, tightening his grip on her face, darting his gaze away from the lewd and intoxicating sight of them being connected in such a sinful way.

Her lips trembled as she nodded, at least tried to nod in agreement. He could feel his release approaching fast, the loud slapping matched with the absurdity wet smacks of his balls hitting her. With a loud roar, he tore away from her like she had burnt him, shoving her legs down onto the ground and stepped closer to her.

With his angry cock in hand, glistening beautifully in her honey like juices, he surged himself roughly into her mouth. “Eat it baby, ta-take it all and lemme- see it.”

His voice broke in a rough whine of its own, not being able to hold on for much longer. Though she eagerly took his beaten head into her warm mouth, it was her soft and shaking hands gripping tight around his shaft that sent him over. Henry moaned loudly, growling almost with praise as he emptied everything he had to give into her sweet mouth.

Her jaw let loose in perfect timing, letting him see his cum paint her tongue while his jaw clenched as he let out a snarled pant, approving her obedience. “Good girl. Very good.”

She didn’t know what was up, down, left or right. Her mind went into autopilot as she widened her mouth to show her daddy all she caught. The once mean and rough hand, now softly closed her mouth as his breath evened out and watched her soft throat swallow all his seed. His brows rose in a knowing look, waiting for her to stick her tongue out to show him she took it all. And when she did, like always, he spat down her pink throat.

If you want to be added/removed lemme know! Feedback is always welcomed, love you lots and be nice to yourself my bbies ;))

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#henry cavill au #henry cavill fanfiction #sugardaddy!henry cavill x reader #mean!daddy!henry cavill x reader #sugar daddy!hebry cavill au #sugar daddy!henry cavill fanfic #d/s dynamic fanfic

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested: OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works)

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez - catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame, crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek. you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea.

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible.

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters.

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other.

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting.

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again.

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you.

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.”

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom.

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still.

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie.

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically. he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck.

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours.

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters <33

#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #jewish richie tozier #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader

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lokis-army-77 · 3 years

Text

If You Please

Chapter eleven

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3560

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Honestly, this chapter reads a little weird to me but my friend who helps me edit said it was fine. IDK going from the 40s to 2012 is weird when trying to write.

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Masterlist

Seven months had gone by since Steve and I had been unfrozen. This new world I suddenly woke up in was exhausting. Everything had changed from the simplest thing like manners to complicated things like technology.

Days after waking up, we had been sent to a place called “The Retreat” so we could catch up on the seventy years we had missed out on. There was so much that we took to writing everything down in small notebooks, so we could remember.

I caught onto using the new technology quicker than Steve since I had worked with Howard Stark for several years. Being able to adapt to strange and new tech on the fly was a requirement when working with him.

After those few weeks there, we were both moved into two separate government apartments located in New York. I wish I could say that it got easier with time, but it didn’t. Instead of going to hang out with Steve or actually trying to make acquaintances with anyone, I just stayed in my room, locked away from everything. Coping with being in the future was the easy part, learning to live without everyone I ever knew was hard.

I hadn't known peaceful sleep in a long time. Every time I closed my eyes I am met with nightmares. The softness of the mattress had made it feel like I would fall through at any moment, back into the ice. To try and combat this I pushed my bed into the far corner of the room and made a cot directly under the frame. It felt safer to lay on the hard floor in the dark. The nightmares still came through, sometimes they were battles, sometimes they were of the plane crashing, but most of the time they were about losing Bucky. Every time I woke up in a cold sweat and never went back to bed. I just stared unblinking at the metal that made the bed frame.

One night after a particularly taxing dream I decided to take a walk. It was three in the morning, so I wouldn't have to deal with a lot of people. I changed out of my pajamas into some of the clothes I had been provided. The clothes of the future were tighter than in the forties. It had taken me a while to get used to the feeling of fabric clinging to my legs and upper body. The outside world was quiet except for the occasional car passing by. I kept my eyes to the ground, not really caring where I ended up. I only looked up when I was almost run over by another late-night walker. Peering from left to right, my eyes fixed on an old faded sign hanging above me. The letters were just barely readable and said in large letters ‘Boxing gym’. With another survey of the area, I realized where I was. This was the gym that Bucky used to take Steve when teaching him self-defense. I had tagged along a couple of times before I had joined the SSR, I was surprised it was still here. I smiled weakly and turned to the door. The light inside was on, it couldn’t hurt to see if they were open. The door creaked open and I slipped in quietly. The sound of someone working out came down the long brick hallway. Hesitantly I made my way to the open doors that led to the sparring room.

Stopping just past the threshold, to my surprise, I spotted Steve, who was busy punching the life out of a punching bag. I walked through the small office and around the boxing rings before I stopped again and leaned against one of the columns a few feet away from where Steve stood. I watched him for a while before he landed a hard punch on the bag and it flew off into the distance. I started clapping slowly and he turned around in shock.

“Good job, you broke the bag, but you do know you’re gonna have to pay for that right?”

“Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a while. I came by your apartment but you didn’t answer.”

“I know Stevie, I just haven't felt up to company since we got back to New York. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked at me with sad eyes and took three long steps in my direction. His arms came out to engulf me in a hug.

“It’s okay, I understand. Promise you’ll tell me if something's wrong, okay?” I nodded into his chest and he squeezed me tighter.

“I couldn't sleep, I guess you couldn't either.”

“No, too many thoughts.” He let go of me and went to get two more punching bags. He hung them up a few feet away from one another before turning to me and asking if I wanted to join. Pretty soon we were both laughing together if it felt almost like we were back home before everything happened. That was until the same dark-skinned man from that day seven months ago showed up. I later learned he was Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.

“I’m glad to find you both here.” He stated.

“Are you here with a mission, Sir?” Steve asked.

“I am.”

“Is this to try and get us back out in the world?” I asked.

“No, I'm trying to save it.” he thrust out an open manila folder. I grabbed it slowly and brought it to where Steve and I could both look at it. The blue cube that had evaporated Johann Schmidt was in the photograph pinned to the first page. In large bold letters beside the pictures spelled out TESSERACT. We slowly walked to a nearby bench and sat down.

“That's HYDRA’s secret weapon. I thought it fell into the ocean that day,” I whispered.

“Howard fished it out of the water when they went looking for you both. He thought what we think, that this cube could be an unlimited sustainable energy source.” Fury informed us.

“Who took it from you?” Steve questioned.

“He’s called Loki, he’s not from around here. We have a lot we're gonna need to catch you both up on if you agree to help. This world has gotten stranger than you already know.”

“I doubt anything could surprise us anymore, right Stevie?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Ten bucks says you’re both wrong.” Fury bet. We both got up from our seats and handed the file back. Steve went and grabbed another bag from the floor and I just headed straight for the door.

“There are debriefing packets at your apartments, read through them and get back to me by tomorrow afternoon. And before you leave, is there anything we should know about the tesseract?”

“You should have left it in the ocean.” Steve and I said at once before walking out of the gym. Once we were outside on the sidewalk we hugged and said our goodbyes for the moment and then went our separate ways.

The walk home felt longer than the walk to the gym, but this gave me time to think about what I wanted to do. Whether I wanted to go on this mission, or if I just wanted to lay low and live my life. By the time I walked through my front door I had almost made my decision, but I was waiting to read the file before I decided for good. With a quick look through the minimal information provided I sighed and threw the papers down onto my kitchen counter. Shaking my head I murmured to myself.

“No, I am not doing this. This cube is not worth it.” Rubbing my eyes I went back to my room and crawled under the bed, not caring that I was still in jeans and a t-shirt. I was not going to walk blindly into anything dealing with that cube again. I lost my fiance and everyone I have ever known because of that stupid blue thing, I'm not going to go anywhere near it again. I laid there quietly for a while before I eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning I woke up with a start, almost hitting my head on the bed above me. Furious honking made its way from the street into my room. One thing I definitely missed from the past was how quiet it once was at seven a.m.

Along with the decision to not join the mission, I had also made up my mind about leaving New York. This had been a long decision in the making and the talk with Fury last night was enough to make the choice for me. I couldn't live in this city anymore. The places I used to hang out at were still here, but they had been renovated so many times that they were unrecognizable. Everywhere I turned It was like I was walking through a strange alternate reality. I saw glimpses of the past, like ghosts around every corner, it was worse when it was a place Bucky and I frequented.

When I had gotten back from the Retreat I made the mistake of going to mine and Steve’s old apartment. It had been torn down to construct a bookstore, along with several other retail shops. I broke down in the street when I saw it, waves upon waves of emotions crashed into me. All the memories I had there with Steve, mom, and Bucky had no place to live now other than in my mind. The next mistake I made was to go down the next few blocks to Bucky’s apartment he shared with his mom and sister, Rebecca. It was no longer there either, a bakery stood in its place. I turned and left before the onslaught of tears came. After that day I thought it would be best to go somewhere else, somewhere I had no memories.

I crawled out from under the bed and slowly moved to the bathroom to start getting ready for the long day to come. Once I had showered and gotten dressed I sat myself down on the living room sofa, looking wearily at the telephone on the end table. Hesitantly I picked up the receiver and dialed the number that had been in the tesseract briefing file. It rang twice before Nick Fury answered.

“Mr. Fury, I’m calling to tell you that I won’t be joining your team for whatever mission you have going on. I just want to lay low and rebuild my life and live it quietly without interruption.” I let out a long breath.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Was really hoping to have you fight with us. If you change your mind, you know where to contact me. Goodbye Agent Rogers.” He hung up quickly after that, not giving me a chance to tell him goodbye as well. The next call was going to be the hard one, I had to tell Steve my plans. I dialed his number slowly as I raised the receiver to my ear. It didn’t even have time to get through the first ring before Steve picked up.

“Hello?” He asked on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What’s up kid. Have you called Fury about joining the mission? I called about an hour ago letting them know I’d help.” He sounded a little enthusiastic.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this but I’m not going to help with the mission.”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “Why not? I thought you’d want to help get rid of that thing once and for all.”

“It’s not that, I want nothing more than for the tesseract to be gone for good. I just don’t think I can be a part of it, I don’t want this thing to take over my life if we can’t get rid of it. This brings me to another important thing I need to tell you. I can’t stay here in New York, so I’m moving to DC.” He was quiet for a while after I had said that, the only thing I could hear coming from his side was his breath. I grew more anxious by the minute waiting for him to say something.

“What do you mean you’re moving? Why can’t you stay here with me?”

“Don’t be selfish.” I snapped.

“I’m not being selfish, you are.” he raised his voice. I huffed through my nose, getting annoyed.

“I can’t stay here any longer. I have no idea what it is like for you, but for me, being in this city is torture. I see ghosts from the past every time I leave my house. I can’t go anywhere without seeing him, and every time I see him, I break down. I never got to say goodbye and that day plays over and over in my head. Steve, I’m being tormented with nightmares to the point where I have barely gotten five hours of sleep in the past week. I need to get out of here whether you like it or not.” Tears had started to stream down my face as I yelled into the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you, I still can help you if you let me. If you leave I can’t keep you safe, I can’t protect you like I’m supposed to.” He was using his soft “grown-up” voice he always used with me when I was younger to try and calm me down but the tears kept streaming down my cheeks at a rapid pace.

“I can protect myself, we did take the same serum,” I choked out. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to bother you with my problems, I can deal with them myself. Plus you have your own things to deal with, you don’t need to help me with mine.” My head was starting to hurt now and my cheeks and neck itched with quickly drying tears.

“Fine. The only way I will be okay with you leaving is if you promise to call me at least twice a week and you let me help you move.” I gave a strained laugh and nodded, even if he couldn't see it.

“Okay, it’s a deal. I actually already have an apartment lined up, so you can come over and help me pack everything up whenever you want to. I’m going to try and be out of New York by the end of next week.”

“I’ll be right over.” I laughed as I told him that I’d be waiting. I laid the receiver back down in its spot and stood up to go to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, thinking. I was glad my relationship with Steve could handle an argument, understand one another, then go right back to normal, I don’t think we would be this close if it couldn't. I blinked back a few stubborn tears and bent down to grab a rag from the sink cabinet, I dampened it in warm water then wiped the dried tears from my face. The warm water felt wonderful on my skin.

Over the next week and a half, Steve and I boxed up what few belongings I had and packed them and the furniture into a moving truck. I didn’t own a car so the moving truck would be my transportation to DC. One of the many things SHIELD had us do was take a modern driving test, which wasn’t hard, just a few more signs to remember and more gadgets in the car than there used to be, I ended up passing with flying colors.

By Friday morning we had everything ready to go. Steve would follow me on his motorcycle and I would drive the truck the whole three and a half hours to my new apartment.

We stopped several times on the way down, mainly so Steve didn’t have to sit on the bike for the whole three hours straight. We also stopped for lunch. All in all the trip took us about five hours, with traffic added. We made it to my new home just after two and we started moving my belongings in immediately.

Admittedly the apartment was way too big for just me but I liked the extra space, it was different from the tiny two-bedroom apartment I had grown up in. The first thing I made sure to unpack and put up was the bed. I still hadn't told Steve I wasn’t actually sleeping in the bed, but he didn’t need to know that. After that clothes were sorted through and put in their respective places. With our enhanced strength and stamina, we had the whole place relatively furnished in just under two hours. We stopped for dinner when everything had been brought up from the moving truck.

The day went by fast with us talking and laughing like we used to, it was a good change of pace from my usual aimlessly roaming around my apartment alone. But, all good things have to come to an end and Steve had to leave. He pulled me into a tight hug, almost crushing me, and wouldn’t let go until I pinky promised to call him several times a week. I just laughed and promised him I would. I was sad watching him walk down the hallway to the stairs.

I turned back into my apartment and closed the door, locking it behind me. I stared at the box littering the floor and decided to get to work unpacking the rest of what we hadn’t gotten earlier.

Most of my belongings I found in thrift stores and antique shops around the city. It may have been the twenty-first century now, but that wasn’t stopping me from making my home a comfortable, familiar space. If you walked in from the outside world, you would have thought you had been transported to the past with how much authentic 1940s and before things I had littered about. Some things had been saved from the apartment we lived in in the forties. I learned a few weeks before we came back from the retreat that Peggy had been the one to put everything in storage after they had failed to find Steve and me in the ice. I had gone through all of it and took out what I wanted to take with me and Steve had done the same. I was thankful Peggy had done what she did, otherwise, everything would have been lost to time.

That night as I tried to sleep, I realized it was a little easier to relax. DC was a whole lot quieter than New York, there was no honking or yelling every two seconds to keep me awake. I was left alone in almost complete silence, which for others may be worse than being bombarded with noise, but I didn’t mind. I fell asleep almost an hour after laying down for the night and had a restless sleep. I woke up many times in the night covered in sweat, but I couldn't remember the dreams, anything I could remember dissipated as soon as I opened my eyes.

I woke up again very early the next morning, the clock on my wall said it was four forty-five. It was still dark out, but I could hear birds starting to chirp. I crawled out from under the bed frame and went to put on some exercise clothes. Running always helped to clear my mind after not being able to get any sort of rest. The run itself didn’t take long, even though it was seven miles, any normal person would be exhausted but I had barely broken a sweat. I did get to see some nice places, taking a route around the zoo, to the National Cathedral, and then back around to the Dupont Circle neighborhood, where my apartment was. The sun was just starting to come up as I made my way back into my building.

Although I had just moved in the day before, I was ready to start finding some sort of job. The money SHIELD was giving me to help assimilate back into the world comfortably was appreciated, but I wanted to make my own way in life without their help. Finding a job was going to be harder than it used to be, but I did have expertise in several areas. Upon being unfrozen, along with the driving tests, SHIELD created a new resume for me. I had degrees in history pertaining to the 1940s, World War II, and several of the New Deal programs, with a specialty in the SSR. I was also given a Veteran ID, although I don’t really know how that one works because I definitely was not a part of the apparent ongoing fighting in Afghanistan. I still looked twenty-four, I doubt anyone would believe it.

Anyway, I had interviews lined up for today at the Smithsonian, and hopefully, the resume that SHIELD created and my knowledge would be enough to land a job. I had already figured that I would be volunteering at the local VFW. I knew I could find people there to relate to and hopefully be able to make some friends.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

they don’t love you like i love you, iii.

read parts one and two! good things come in threes. or something. idk. as always, ty to my beloved beta reader @hobi-gif. i post nothing without her - even if it’s just a drabble. 🥺

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. a lil bit of angst (only if you squint) but mainly fluff? or romance? idk. they love each other a lot. that’s about it. wc. 1.2k.

“You look great.” It comes in a warm breath of air that crawls across your spine and drags heat over every vertebrae, colouring the bare expanse of your back in ruby roses. The colour blooms prettily, blending with the mosaic around your neck, little mementos left behind by the man that holds you recklessly close.

The softness of his mouth retraces the patterns from last night (from this morning, from less than an hour ago). Hands - broad, firm, unrelenting - follow in tandem, slipping easily over the small of your waist. He squeezes you, teasingly, with a giddy noise that reverberates deep in his chest.

You’re not sure what’s got him in such a good mood.

“I have to finish getting ready,” you chide, though you’re not entirely opposed to the closeness of his body, how it feels like home despite the fact that it shouldn’t.

Another kiss, straight to your cheek. “Five more minutes.”

“We have to go in fifteen!”

He huffs - an adorably soft sound - and releases you like you’ve asked him to give up a limb. But still, he doesn’t go far, dropping onto the edge of his low-profile bed as he watches you riffle through your - his - closet. You really shouldn’t have anything in there given the fact you’d packed it up close to nine months ago now but he’s never been good at saying no.

Not to his parents, not to his students, and certainly not to you - the love of his life.

Which is probably why Jungkook’s about to do one of the stupidest things in the world. This coming from the same guy who’d nearly ridden an ATV off a cliff during one of his best friend’s bachelor parties. The same guy who’d taken a bet to play Chubby Bunny with hodo-gwaja and had nearly choked on it - just for a free forty dollar meal.

“Gives me enough time then…” You’ve caught on the moment he mumbles the words. It’s like you’ve got supersonic hearing - or you’re just very well-attuned to his antics. Probably the latter.

The amount of suspicion in your eyes should be offensive. It crowds every other emotion out, replacing the darks of your irises with nothing but distrust. “Enough time for what?”

He’s been working himself up to this for the last eight weeks since you’d drunkenly blamed him for dating someone else. Which had been, honestly, a completely laughable accusation.

The two months doesn’t feel like enough, though. If it were up to him, he’d have another month. Maybe two, or even ten. A year sounded good.

You’re back to being elbow-deep in his closet, swiping through the few velvet hangers you’d brought over and then decided to leave there. He’d be grateful for the distraction if it wasn’t acutely obvious you were waiting for a response.

“Spit it out, Kook.”

One breath. Another. The feeling that he wants to sink six feet under and disappear. Then, so quickly he wonders if he might join the Guinness World Record Book for fastest speaker: “Be with me.”

“Excuse me?” You’ve heard him, obviously. You’re far too still, fingers caught in the soft wool of a tartan skirt.

“B-be with me.” The words wobble, just the barest hint of his stutter coming through. Hands fist and unfurl in his lap, smoothing over the softly textured fabric that drapes over his straining thighs. They’re pants you’d picked out, insisting they made his ass look ‘fat with a ph’.

When you turn, returning his favourite skirt to its spot, he almost wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“I don’t want to get married.” It’s hard, non-negotiable. It strikes out like a hot brand, as searing red as the Chanel rouge that paints your mouth. It’d probably hurt less if you didn’t look so angry, as if you were tired of having this conversation.

He gets why. He’s angry, too, but for different reasons.

“I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“But you will.” Your exasperation is, frankly, a little offensive. After five great years as a couple and even more as friends before that, Jungkook thinks you’d know him a bit better. He supposes he deserves it.

Just like you deserve the roll of his eyes, whites glaringly obvious as he reminds himself that this will be worth it. That you - in all of your frustrating, absurd glory - are worth it.

“No, I won’t.”

The way he says it doesn’t sound any different than anything else he’s said but your own expression shifts, tumbles and falls over itself as you study him. There’s something close to hope, a flicker of it hidden just beyond the shadow of your stare. He wonders how close he is to prying the door wide open or if it’d always been like this - a little stuck but never locked. Maybe you’d never changed the key.

“I’m not going to change my mind.” You’re firm but not nearly as harsh. There’s a tell-tale wobble in your chin, in how your mouth pouts and purses so prettily he wants to kiss you senseless.

“I’m not asking you to.”

Hand is offered, palm up. A question. You stare at it longer than he likes.

“I love you. You know I love you.” Each word is enunciated with great care, like he’s worried one wrong move will have you slapping his offer away, leaving him high and dry like all those months ago. “I don’t want to not be with you - not over something like this.”

Once he starts, it’s almost easy, like the words come of their own volition, too quick for him to catch. Shooting stars that light up the sky, full of promise and wonder.

“I know you don’t believe in marriage.”

You had reason not to - you’d seen it tear apart your mother enough times.

“If you told me tomorrow that you’d marry me, we’d do it.” He smiles then, wistful and far too handsome for his own good. “But since it’s either keep you or lose you—” He shrugs once, a roll of his shoulders that does little to dislodge the faraway look in his eyes.. “—I’m choosing to let it go. Because I’m not losing you and I’m not doing this, this—”

The hand that’d hung between the two of you wiggles, noncommittal and limp. Quite a good imitation of the light and breezy thing you had going.

“—stupid friend bullshit. We’re not just friends and I’m tired of acting like we are.”

You’re surprisingly silent, the shape of your mouth betraying nothing. He hates that you’re so good at this - at holding your cards so close to your chest you might as well be a word championship poker star. It’s so terribly different from him, who cries during really sad movies even when he tries not to and who gets too worked up during junior varsity soccer scrimmages.

“Can you say something?” It’s almost whiny, puffing out his cheeks.

“You can’t change your mind,” you state, terribly serious. Jungkook tries to ignore the utter unfairness when you step forward, close enough he can almost reach you. “I won’t ever give you that.”

Hearing it again feels awful, like nails on a chalkboard. It doesn’t break his heart this time, though, and that’s a feat in and of itself. There’s something else to look forward to. He has to focus on that, even as he’s grinding his teeth and forcing his tongue into his cheek - telltale signs of his frustration.

“But you’ll give me everything else.” Not a question this time.

“Everything else.”

“Then that’s enough.”

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years

Note

So the thot that’s been stuck in my head these past couple days is BB and Frankie doing a show together

Okay okay okAY so this ask has been living in my head for so long it’s time to give it LIFE .

Quick warnings of cursing, wearing masks??? having sex on camera. Shitty writing and spelling errors idk what this is man.

tagging @qveenbvtch @thesadvampire

The quick answer is y e s. They do in fact do a show together.

Initially the conversation had started while they were watching a movie, bb cuddled against his chest. Halfway through she seemed to stiffen and turn to him with a face of worry.

“Does it bother you that I still do camwork?”

Frankie quickly answers that no, it doesn’t bother him at all. She’s a grown ass woman, who has her own job and makes her own decisions, as long as she’s happy and safe, he has no issue with it.

“Besides-” He spoke with his chest puffed out, proud like a bird showing off its colorful feathers. “-Those guys can watch you all they want, but I’m the one who’s lucky enough to get the real deal.”

“I’m pretty sure I'm the lucky one here.” You lean up to give him a sweet peck on the cheek. “Besides, if you ever wanna show them who's boss, I wouldn’t mind having you on for some fun.”

With that you turn back to the movie, seemingly unbothered by your last statement while it echoed throughout your boyfriend’s head.

Doing a show with you?

At first it seemed outlandish. He didn’t have the body NOR the confidence for such a thing. Plus he didn’t want his face out on the internet, showing him in a deeply intimate moment with you.

But you always praised him, told him how handsome he was and how “fucking hell, I’d pay to watch you, baby.”

He’d thought about making something before, a video to keep private and watch when he was away for work. You’d sent him videos before. Hell, you even did it before the pair of you started dating. So it wouldn’t be that out of the realm.

But it was the thought of it being seen by other people that turned his stomach into knots.

Still, your words hung to him and eventually turned those nerves into great interest.

“if you ever wanna show them who's boss”

He didn’t feel jealous that you still did camwork, but the thought of him fucking you for everybody watching to see. To know that you are his and he is yours, even when he isn’t there, while you touch yourself and moan on camera it’s because of him?

Maybe it was some sort of stupid male pride that stirred in his chest, or wanting something special to watch on those late lonely nights when you weren’t snuggled to his side.

Or maybe the idea of fucking you stupid for others to see just made him go crazy.

He tried not to psychoanalyze it too much. All he knew that the excited grin that grew on your face at his proposal was enough to seal the deal.

Certain...precautions had to be taken of course. You understood that Frankie didn’t want his face to be seen, the thought of his employers or friends seeing him online was more than enough to make him twitch. So you came up with an easy fix.

A Halloween show.

It was no secret the pair of you loved Halloween. Pumpkin lights stayed up in your house year round and Frankie had been watching seasonal movies since September, so the idea settled with him quite easily.

The theme of horror was easy to pick, it gave him ample costume choices that would give him a mask to cover his face.

He had decided to go with Michael Myers, and you as Carrie White, complete with a bloodied prom dress and sash.

The light nerves as he watched you turn the camera on were fizzled away when you pressed a kiss to the tip of the mask’s nose.

“Say the word and we stop, alright flyboy?”

He nodded, leaning forward to press the mask against your face in what was, a very muffled and giggly kiss.

“Alright romeo, lets leave the kisses for when you take off the mask, okay?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was hidden behind a mask, letting his inhibitions run free, or the light possessive streak that ran wild with the thought of fucking you so hard you lost your voice while your viewers watched him basically stake claim over your, or the simple fact that you just looked so fucking pretty in that dress he couldn’t help himself, so much to the point where afterwards the pair of you had a big laugh about the state of your bedframe as he profusely apologized and promised to take you to ikea in the morning.

You didn’t complain. If the heavy donations and notifications pile through during the entire thing were any consolation, you certainly had enough money to afford it.

#ask #asks #frankie & bb

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desiree-harding-fic · 4 years

Text

The Phantom of the Opera but Taakitz

In which Kravitz fails pretty spectacularly at Phantoming but he’s trying very hard. Taako fails at “damsel-in-distress”-ing but to be fair he’s not really trying.

My parents were watching Phantom and my brain went taakitz because you know... spooky one and pretty one. But then I had to make it fit, and idk y’all. It’s pure silliness. Lmk if you want a kissin’ part bc if you do I have like 1/3 of that written. Thanks to @fandomsnstuff for encouraging me in every way to post XD

@herbgerblin >:333

*~*~*~*~*

Taako woke up not knowing where he was.

Which was, to begin with, just a massive red flag.

His head hurt. He felt heavy. And where the fuck was he? All he could see was grimy stone brick, and on them, softly flickering candlelight - and the sound of - was that water? He was having a hard time breathing - Lup’s fucking corset, he swore this was the last time she convinced him to take place in some fucking hairbrained scheme -

He shoved himself up to sitting and was immediately assaulted by a voice -

“LUP TAACO, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE TO -”

“What the fuck?!” Taako shouted, leaping to his feet, and then the fucking skirts got tangled and then the floor underneath him tipped -

And taako was wet. He was in water, in all these fucking skirts and he was wet and Lup was going to pay for this.

He pushed himself up again, sputtering, and thank god it wasn’t very deep, he didn’t know what he’d do if was forced to swim in this ridiculous outfit -

The voice came again.

“MISS TAACO, YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS SANCTUARY OF MUSIC TO-”

“I’M NOT LUP!!” Taako shouted desperately, just to get it to shut up, the voice that was splitting his fucking head in two, and trying to arrange the soaking wet gown into some semblance of order, and he didn’t know where he was, and he woke up here, which was just - there was something immensely wrong with that because Taako didn’t remember going to sleep.

“TO- I’m sorry?”

“I’m not Lup!!” Taako shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration, and giving up on the stupid dress, and looking toward the direction of the candlelight, and the whoever was standing there screaming at him, and - huh.

A man, half his face obscured by a mask meant to look like a skeleton, in a suit that looked more at home at the opera (where Taako was a moment ago - or it seemed a moment) than - was this a fucking sewer? - and a full on-cloak atop that, and a fucking ridiculous hat-

As Taako’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see more of the man’s face, which was, even with the one eye obscured, contorted into an expression of confusion.

He may have registered, distantly, that he also looked rather handsome, but fuck that honestly, because Lup’s corset was cutting into his side and he was wet and - and his brain wasn’t working. He was in the opera house, and then Lup - Lup had begged him to switch clothes because please< Taako, I can’t get Grimaldis to quit following me, please, just to throw him off - and then he was going out the stage door, but he didn’t get there… he didn’t get there because-

“Did you fucking kidnap me?!” he shouted.

“I - I didn’t - you’re not Lup Taaco?”

“No!! Fucking - look at me!” he gestured to the ruined dress, the way it hung, now clearly fitting ill - “Do I look like Lup to you?!”

“Yes! Well, no, I mean, but you - but you- you’re wearing her clothes!” The man sputtered.

“And?!” Taako shouted, “you don’t fucking know me, kemosabe! I can wear whatever the hell I like!” The man, whoever he was, was standing on some kind of shore, and Taako, sick of standing in waist-deep water, started hauling up his skirts and wading toward it. “And that’s another thing! Who are you to fucking - get off kidnapping my sister?!”

“I - No!” Tuxedo Man said, stumbling back further from the shore as Taako advanced, “it’s not like that, I - I can see where you’d think, but I - I didn’t want to -”

“Didn’t want to what?!” Taako continued, finally stepping out of the water, the heavy gown dripping on the stone, so much heavier soaked like this. Taako couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to fight this motherfucker over his sister’s honor or whatever, he wasn’t going to do it in a goddamn evening gown. He started tearing at the clasps at back of it, the ties, anything to get the fucking thing off of him.

“You mistake me for my fucking sister,” he fumed, “which firstly, you’re stalking my sister, apparently, so you’re gonna fucking die - and then you -what? Fucking chloroform me and drag me to some kind of sewer sex-dungeon god knows where, what am I supposed to think?!” The outer-most layer of the gown finally came off, and Taako flung it into the water behind him because honestly fuck this.

“No!” the masked man said, shaking his head furiously, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean anything untoward!”

“I think kidnapping is pretty untoward-”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to - I don’t - it’s not a sex dungeon!” he cried, “I don’t even like her!”

“OH?!” Taako said, and god, he wished he could get the corset off, because he was really running out of breath with all the shouting - “what’s your name, thug, because I’m about to-”

“Kravitz, but - Wait! No! I - I - please don’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I was - I was just trying to give her a violin lesson!”

“Give my sister a violin lesson?” Taako growled, “She’s the goddamn concert master of the Paris Opera I think she knows how to play the violin pretty fucking well-”

“It’s just the solo in the third scene of act five!” Kravitz pleaded, actually pleaded, and Taako supposed that was a point in his favor somehow, but still, “She - she keeps - the phrasing is all wrong, and it’s the climax of the piece, and I couldn’t stand it-”

“So you were going to kidnap her?” Taako said, completely dumb with disbelief because who did this motherfucker think he was - “Who are you to give notes on her fucking performance, huh?”

“I’m the composer!” Kravitz said, throwing up his hands.

That stopped Taako in his tracks, because what? Of all the off the wall lies to get him off the hook, that’s what spooky Kravitz went with? The composer of the opera taking Paris by storm. The opera that just had its run extended another two months. And sure, sure he might as well fight the skull-mask man in the fucking - sewers, he guessed, while wearing his sister’s evening wear, the composer of her fucking opera, who wanted to kidnap her for a violin lesson in the sewer because sure! Taako’s life was already so goddamn weird, he figured this might as well happen too, why the hell not?

Maybe he didn’t wake up at all. Maybe this was all one horrible, drawn-out nightmare. Maybe he’d been hit over the head and this was his brain’s last fanciful imagining before he went out.

He buried his face in his hands, tried to breathe deeply. And then couldn’t. Because of the corset.

Ok, he thought, if this is a dream, it has to end now, because I figured it out. I’m dreaming. Time to wake up.

He counted to five and then peeked out from between his fingers. Spooky skele-man Kravitz was still looking at him. In the moment, without all the screaming, Taako managed to just get a better look at him. He was leaning back against something that looked like a manual for an organ. Weird, but then again, no weirder than the whole. Sewer-dwelling skeleton thing.

There were a few things Taako could do. He could fight the skeleton composer man, who, the more Taako looked, didn’t cut nearly as imposing of a figure as he did a moment ago. Or he could play things out.

The thing was, Taako wasn’t particularly a fighter. And Kravitz the skele-man had kidnapped him once that evening. And getting flustered when Taako shouted at him didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of taking Taako if he made good on his threats.

And Taako was tired.

Taako sighed, removed his hands from his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so tired. His head felt like someone had reached down into it and was pulling it slowly apart from each side.

“Uhm,” Kravitz said, “are you alright?”

“No,” Taako groused, and then sighed. He removed his hand. “I would love to kick your ass, darling, because no one stalks my sister and lives, but first,” he gestured to the whole… rest of his get-up. “Would you mind lending a guy a hand in getting this off? It’s fucking cold and ‘chaboy’s gettin’ real tired of not being able to take a complete breath.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz squeaked. His voice sounded about two octaves higher than before. His eyes, just for a moment, flickered over Taako’s body, panicked, and - well. That was interesting, wasn’t it.

“The clothes, Kravitz,” Taako said, purposely evoking his name. “Please? I’m wet as all hell and fucking freezing, and if I’m gonna throw you in this water and drown you or something I’d like to at least have a decent range of mobility so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Um,” Kravitz said, “Please don’t drown me?”

“Gimme that cloak to wear and we’ll see,” Taako said back. Fuck, his head hurt. He was too tired for this.

“I can - I can actually do you one better, if you need me to. I have um…. men’s clothing around the corner if you’d prefer-”

“Fucking fantastic, skeletor, just get a move on.”

“Oh. Alright then, um. Follow me?”

And Taako did. Kravitz pushed himself off the organ and moved to his left, and sure enough, there was something like a corner, and a sort of tunnel, lower-ceilinged, and in it was - well, practically an entire apartment’s worth of furniture, all arranged just-so, with candles perched all about on tables and sconces on the walls. The place was drafty but all the same, it looked quite like Kravitz had made it into a perverted imitation of a home.

Beside the frankly absurd number of candles, and the lakeside organ, there was a series of screens, separating out the space where walls did not. Rugs, slightly tattered and faded. Old brocade armchairs that didn’t match. A desk, ink and pen sitting atop it with scattered papers, and, in the last “chamber” of the long, successive home, a bed and chests in something that looked quite almost like a bedroom.

Kravitz turned around and regarded Taako with a fair measure of confusion as though unsure exaclty what to do next, but after a moment, he fumbled with his gloved hands around his neckline, until he was able to untie the cloak from around his shoulders. He thrust it toward Taako, quite sheepish-looking now behind his half-mask.

“Here,” he said. “You can um… use it to cover up, while I - find you some clothes.”

“Corset first, bones,” Taako said, only just in a small part to watch him squirm. Sex-dungeon indeed. Taako was feeling out the boundaries of the conversation and Kravitz was bashful, of all things. Probably not kidnapping Lup for - well. Probably not that then. Maybe the violin lesson wasn’t an excuse after all.

Taako was beginning to think Kravitz was… well. For lack of a better term, somewhat pathetic. Maybe just insane.

Still, he’d do. All Taako needed was an extra pair of hands. He turned around, back to Kravitz and facing one of the screens. “Help me outta this. I’m not used to the lacing and I need some more eyes. Might have to take the gloves off though. Dexterity, and all that.” That he did say to be mean.

“Oh. Um, yes of course,” Kravitz said, and Taako felt as much as heard him walk up to his back, closer than he’d yet been. Taako felt his hands pulling at the lacing of the corset, felt something come undone, and the constriction lesson by degrees. He pulled in a deep breath. It was heavenly.

For a moment, something frigid brushed against Taako’s back, and he jumped. “Christ!” Kravitz withdrew; Taako could feel that sixth sense of proximity dissipate.

“Sorry,” Kravitz said. “Poor circulation.” His voice was so much softer than before. Something in Taako’s chest twisted at the sound of it. “You should… you should be able to remove the rest of it, now. I can- I’ll get you some clothes. Oh, um.” There was a moment of hesitation from behind him, then he felt the weight of something thick and soft drape over his shoulders, felt Kravitz withdraw again. The cloak. He’d draped it over Taako’s shoulders. It was surprisingly soft. Heavy, too. Warm. Probably did him some good down here.

“There, you can - I’ll get you something to change into.��

Taako felt strangely hot. He busied himself pulling the rest of Lup’s clothes off of him, shivering as they hit the floor with wet slaps. Good god, it really was cold in Kravitz’s - dungeon… or whatever. Even with the many candle flames all around. Removing the corset was a blessing, though. Taako drew in several deep luxurious breaths, pausing in his undressing to stretch. He could hear Kravitz rummaging around in the trunks and chests behind him.

And the rummaging stopped.

“I’m just going to uh… leave these on the bed?” Kravitz’s voice came, “I’ll. I’ll leave you to it,” and he slipped out between a couple of screens, and Taako was alone in his… in his bedroom. In the bedroom of a mysterious masked man who somehow knocked Taako out, dragged him to god only knew where, shouted at him for being Lup and then seemed, inexplicably, very apologetic the moment Taako called him on it.

He supposed stranger things had happened to him in his life.

Then he thought again, and no, they hadn’t.

It was almost disconcertingly silent on the other side of the screen. Taako wrapped the cloak around himself properly, stepping out of the last of Lup’s clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor as he turned around and moved to the bed. He dressed quickly (Kravitz’s clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they worked well enough), draped the cloak around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill in the air, and stepped out from the screen. Kravitz was standing in the middle of what looked like his sitting room, as though he was waiting for Taako.

Taako crossed his arms.

Kravitz began to speak.

“Mister Taaco,” he said, “you have come to know too much of my domain. I cannot allow-”

“So,” Taako interrupted him, “Are we gonna throw down or what? I promised you an ass-kicking on account of defending my sister’s honor and all.”

Kravitz paused, and Taako could practically feel the frustration coming off of him. “I shall not be taking orders -”

“What happened to your voice?” Taako asked, cutting him off again, because god, what was he doing? “Is that a Cockney accent? What are you going for here?”

“This is how I speak-”

“My dude, we literally had a conversation without you going all Charles Dickens on me like not five minutes ago-”

“Could you let me finish?!” Kravitz finally snapped, accentless once more. “For once?! Please?!”, and Taako just waited, and watched as Kravitz realized what he’d done, as his whole schtick disintegrated before his eyes. “Oh goddamnit all,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

Taako couldn’t help but smile.

“Really nailing it on the whole spooky sinister vibe, my fella,” he said. “Really knocking it out of the park on that one.”

One hand came up to cover Kravitz’s face, laying over his half mask and eyes. Almost like pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t usually go like this,” he sighed.

“How do the kidnappings usually go?” Taako teased. And god, what was he doing? He needed to get out of here. It was just that -

“I’m really more adept at hauntings,” his host said forlornly. “The abduction angle is new.”

It was just that everything Kravitz said was stranger, more unexpected, more absurd, more interesting than the last. And… strangely funny. It caught strange corners of Taako’s brain and captured his attention, raising flags and illuminating pathways that he wanted to go down-

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay. In the dank candlelit sewer, with Kravitz, who, while it was clear he wasn’t a very skilled kidnapper and - whatever his thing was supposed to be here - had still been good enough to get Taako in the first place. And, atop that, was a person who’d just admitted to kidnapping Taako. And who seemed not to be terribly… thrown by the thought of it. Taako didn’t know anyone - well, until now - who seemed to view unwilling abduction as a done thing. No one Taako knew really considered that socially acceptable.

It reminded him that Kravitz, while… intriguing, was by no means safe.

It reminded him that he still needed to get the hell out of there.

“Well,” he started, “the whole production could use some work, kemosabe. Points for the aesthetic,” he gestures vaguely to Kravitz’s getup, and the whole… opulent sewer situation, “but really, Taako’s rating this one a ‘room for improvement’ situation. Nice try, though, points for effort,” he cast his eyes around as he rambled, trying to see if there were any visible exits, but the only way he could see was back the way he came in - through Kravitz’s “house” - past Kravitz.

Nothing for it but to try, he thought.

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, inching forward, “glad to be of assistance workshopping - well, no, not glad, really - but I uh… I’m going to need to be on my way.” He stepped forward, purposeful. Kravitz countered, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Shit.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, and the thing was he actually sounded it, “but I really can’t let you do that.”

#phantom of the opera au #taz balance #taakitz #taako taaco #kravitz #silliness hours #hey guys? i love them #also taako got accidentally kidnapped and Kravitz was Not Ready for A+ Elf Rage #He was expecting a trembling damsel #he doesn't realize he got the easy version #imagine if he'd actually got lup #She wouldn't've waited to kill him until after a carefully engineered homoerotic intricate ritual #is this a carefully constructed distraction from the fact that i'm not posting longfic?#yes

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themilky-way · 4 years

Text

honey {din djarin}

gif credit: gameraboy1 on tumblr

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x female! reader

summary: the mandalorian never really cared for romance. he had never wanted it in his life, but some things are bound to change, right?

warnings: um nothing just fluff i think lmao

author’s note: idk how many more ppl my heart can stan bc sir pedro pascal is adorable as fuck. in my mandalorian feels too lol i miss mando

-------

the sky set out in front of the razor crest was changing colors with every passing minute. a dark orange red adorning its surroundings first, and then switching to a deeper hue of orange and violet. the air around the ship was strong enough to cause some turbulence, which made the small green child aboard to yelp suddenly.

the mandalorian, captain and designated owner of the crest, turned his helmet to see if it was alright, and when he determined he wasn’t hurt or in pain, he turned the cold stare his visor gave off back onto the controls in front of him. his chair, the pilot’s chair, was positioned directly ahead of the large front view window and he fingered with the buttons and screens for a while until he set a safe planet to land on.

the mandalorian heard the child giggle again, but this time it wasn’t because the ship was shaking. he heard a pair of boots tread light footsteps from behind him before stopping near the child. he looked at the crib through the corner of his eyes, the action covered by the safety of his helmet, and saw a figure near it. a shadowed hand extended to pet the baby’s head, the coos growing louder with joy. his eyes turned back to look at the scene in front of him, his hands gripping the joystick just a little tighter.

“din?” the voice behind it is faint, questioning. he doesn’t let himself look at you though, because he knows that if he just merely glances at you for half a second, he’ll drop every one of his morals. instead, all he does is force a noise from the bottom of his throat to respond.

“you should go to bed,” you suggest. in your mind, you’re laughing at how stupid the phrase had sounded. you, a regular person with only minor knowledge in martial arts, telling a mandalorian to do something? a complete and utter joke.

regardless, din knew what you meant. but words weren’t his thing; they never had been. so his eyes stayed planted straight ahead and just shook his head, muttering, “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can take over for a couple hours. believe it or not, i’m more qualified in flying a ship than actual combat,” you assured, laughing slightly as you said the last part. you hoped that underneath that strong, emotionless armor he wore he was smiling. even the smallest curve of his lips would satisfy you, realizing that he was capable of feeling something, anything.

you watched as din pushed a couple buttons at the colorful panel in front of him, hearing a whirring sound when a gloved finger gave a final press to a red disk. he got up, and with a gradual pace began walking over to where his cabin dwelled, and without shifting his helmet to look at you, said, “come with me.”

it sent shivers through you; your arms, your legs, the nape of your neck, they rushed cold when the sound of his words entered your system. you looked down at the child, which had a perplexed look on its face, and reached out to you with a tiny finger. you grabbed it gently, and whispered, “i know, weird right? i’ll be right back, okay honey?” the child made a noise of approval and you shook his finger lightly before letting go, striding over to where din was.

when you got there, din was standing next to his bed with his back to you, and looking at a small shelf hung from his wall. you stood in the doorway, your hands neatly clasped together behind you, and you watched him. watched him as his hands laid rigid at his sides, his body tense like it always stood. his back, in particular, was where you believed he had the most pain, and you wished he would finally allow you to run your hands through his strained muscles to grant him some form of comfort. but the mandalorian couldn’t agree to this, regardless if he knew of your will to do it or not, for personal reasons. he respected his creed, and you respected him, so you never pushed boundaries you knew would make him uncomfortable. so once again, you pushed the idea of touching him to the back of your mind.

“stop staring,” he ordered. his voice was rough, raspy from hardly ever speaking, yet when he directed himself at you, it had a slight tinge of tenderness. it surprised you, and even more so to him.

“i’m not-yeah, um, okay, sorry,” you stuttered. heat rose to your cheeks and you scolded yourself for barely being able to talk right, but who could blame you? a mandalorian was making you blush without even realizing it.

“why am i here?”

“i need to give you something.” he turns around then, and your breath catches in your throat. you’re never used to him. the effect he seems to have on you and you wonder, deep in your mind, if he ever notices. dyn lifts his palm up then, holding up an item too small and obscure in color for you to know what it is. “come,” he says.

you start walking towards him, stopping right in front of him and close enough that he has to peer down through his helmet to see your face. “give me your hand.”

you do, too quickly for your liking, but he takes it in his gloved one lightly and rubs your palm softly with his thumb. it was instinctive to him, to touch you in such a delicate way. the action itself poured out of him without thinking, and it caught both of you off guard. how is it, that the man who belongs to one of the most merciless creeds in the galaxy, is touching me so beautifully?, you wonder. in a matter of seconds, as if he read your mind, his thumb stops moving along your skin, and places the item into your hand.

extending it with both hands and bringing it up closer for inspection, you learn that it’s a bracelet. it’s a thin band of shiny white gold, much like his armor, and it’s decorated with multiple lavender butterfly charms all around. it’s elegant, graceful, a striking contrast to his own lifestyle. wrapping it around your wrist to clasp it, you find that it fits perfectly, recognizing that he must’ve gone into a shop during one of your many stops and had it custom made.

“din...it’s so gorgeous. how did you-where did you ge-”

“let me help you,” he cuts you off suddenly. he doesn’t want you to ask him the question because he doesn’t want to answer it. he doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t find you annoying anymore, he doesn’t find himself scurrying to hide in his cabin when you appear, he doesn’t dislike you at all now. it’s the opposite. maybe even more than that.

“yeah, please. thanks.” you turn your wrist so the clasps are exposed to him, and his fingers work quickly to hook the clips together. once he’s finished, he lets his hand linger a little on yours, hesitantly almost, and you observe him. your eyes dart from his hands to back up to his visor to try and get some sort of feeling out of him. you watch as he begins to move his pointer finger from the base of your wrist down to the very tip of your middle finger. the cold leather of his glove tickles your hand a little and you smile. a childish, innocent smile. you can’t see him, but he smiles with you. the image of you like this, giggling like the baby right inside the cockpit of his ship, makes him happier than he’s ever been.

with a sudden wave of confidence, you direct to him. “you can hold it, you know,” you voice softly, “it’s alright.”

your courage dissipates as soon as the words leave your mouth. maybe you’ve made a mistake in advising him to partake in such an intimate action. perhaps you were dreaming, this whole scene a mere conjuring of your own touch starved mind. it could also be that din didn’t even want to touch you at all, and you’ve placed him in an uncomfortable position he now has to escape from.

but, suddenly, your hand is interlocking with his. the size of his hand envelops your own, and through the leather of his glove, it sends sparks flying in every direction. he feels warm, and through the material of his mitt, you can also feel the different shapes of his callouses. this completes him, fills him to the brim with joy; with something far stronger than liking and closer to that of desire. he tightens his grip on your hand, and you reciprocate. you drop your interlocked hands down, and your free hand starts to lightly play with the fingers of his other one. you’re smiling, a dent on your cheek forming.

“what is it?” din asks, and you laugh. that sweet-like-honey, angelic laugh that makes his heart nearly stumble out of his chest.

“nothing. i just like the way your hand fits in mine.”

#the mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian #dyn jarren #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x reader

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krewbies · 4 years

Note

hi! im desperate for some frenemies to lovers ANGST w my girl asami, honestly wldnt mind it being a korra x asami au, but x fem!reader is just as swell ! also , if its not too much to ask , id rly love some bolin x reader fluff bc i am such a simp for that boy 🥺🥺 the gay agenda™️ is top priority but ,, bolin 🥺🥺🥺🥺

ahhh i decided to go with a high school au cause why not! regarding bolin stuff, there is content to come 👀 i really hope you enjoy, i would’ve done some korrasami but i am honestly SHIT at writing stuff between two canon characters, good characterization is one of my weak points :/ also!!!! warning!!!! major mentionsof death!!!!

•••••

You and Asami always held a sort of.... animosity for each other. There was no reason for the clear cut tension that hung between the two of you, but anyone would be able to notice it.

It’s not like you hated her. It was just, you, Mako, and Bolin had grown up together, you were basically an honorary sibling. When Korra had joined your trio in freshman year it had been enough of an adjustment, but Asami had felt like a tipping point that you just could not handle, ESPECIALLY after the whole love triangle situation that had almost torn the 5 of you apart in sophomore year. High school was shitty enough without shitty romances to go with it.

You guys generally could get along, too. You had a number of classes together, so you walked and chatted back and forth all the time, but thick tension always hung in the air when you did.

It didn’t help that she was disgustingly rich and attractive either. She practically had guys falling at her feet, and it pissed you off to no end. How could you be the only one?

“(Y/N), you’re missing the educational mover!” Your economics teacher, Mr. Varrick, had paused the movie specifically to call you out. You groaned, sliding down in your seat and throwing a hand over your eyes. “Third time this week! Get your act together...” He continued to mumble under his breath. Hell, was that man eccentric. He resumed the action on the screen, and you actually attempted to pay attention this time; this was your only time to learn in this class, after all. Mr. Varrick was an excellent man, but a horrible teacher.

From the seat next to you, the one and only Asami Sato laughed quietly, fiddling with her pen and side eyeing your slumped form. God, even her damn laugh was attractive, that woman was aggravating. Minutes passed and you couldn’t help but stare at the clock.

Mr. Varrick paused the mover and you couldn’t help but panic; he had a thing for calling principal Moon a little bit too often for minor student misdemeanors just so he could talk to her.

“Ms. Sato, can I see you outside?” He then promptly unpaused as Asami stood up. She glanced back at you, making her way up the aisle, and you attempted to give her a reassuring look, despite you low grade hatred for her.

Your teacher slowly and softly shut the door behind him... odd. He was a slam-the-door kind of guy. You rocked your knees back and forth, starting to get nervous for her. Stop. You don’t even care that much...right?

The door opened again, and he held a solemn look at his face. He raised a hand, ushering you over. You swiftly stood up, an odd feeling in your stomach, almost like you felt bad for her (which, you didn’t, obviously).

It was a blur. Ms. Sato. Office. Father. Died. You froze. This couldn’t be happening, not to her.

You found yourself wrapping you arms around her, despite her lack of tears. Maybe she was in shock. I mean, what could she do? What could you do? The walk was silent. You felt impossibly heavy as you walked with your arms wrapped around Asami. The fluorescent high school lighting gave you a headache. You couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling.

She dropped to the floor, taking you with her, right outside the office doors. She let out a silent, breathless sob, choking on her own intense emotion.

“Asami,” You felt for her, you felt your chest tighten as you watched your ‘frenemy’ lose all her composure, tears ruining her perfect makeup and her hands grasping your arms tightly. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not for a girl like her, “I’m so sorry, Asami.” You choked out all you could manage.

All she could do was shake her head. All the principal would do was give her stupid, distanced condolences, and then she’d have to go home and face a world of hurt. “Let me take you to my house.” You blurted out. It was all you had to offer her. She nodded without even thinking, wiping her nose on her sleeve and letting you lead her out to your car instead.

You both took a solemn seat. Her silence was lost, forgotten as the car door slammed behind her. She reached her hand over, laying it in your lap, asking for anything. You took it gently, watching her closely, and leaned over cautiously to wrap her up in an awkward hug over the center console.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry you-” She gasped lightly, burying her head deeper into the crook of your neck. “-you had to see this.” She pulled away slowly, looking at you with a certain tenderness behind her red eyes and broken heart. You weren’t expecting it in the slightest, but she leaned in you, kissing the side of your mouth.

“Asami, are you-”

“No, I- I, you don’t realize how fleeting everything is or how quickly things change, and I... I’m sorry, I had to do that.” You nodded curtly, starting the car. Your chest was still heavy, and your heart still ached for Asami, but you would be lying if you said your heart wasn’t racing for another reason.

okay im sorry this is honestly not great. i lowkey wrote this as a comfort fic for myself because my dad died recently and it was nice to write... what i wish my experience had been when i first found out? idk, i know it was depressing. i can write a part 2 if the ‘lovers’ part wasn’t accentuated enough (i know it wasn’t), just let me know!!!

#asami x reader #lok #legend of korra #lok imagine #legend of korra imagines #krewbies writes #angst #death tw #bolin x reader

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