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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years

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Inherited Will, Destiny of the Age, Graveyard of Ambition and Dreams - Part 4

This chapter’s kinda... violent in its own way. Violent in a way a certain sadistic former Celestial Dragon would be and kind of has been, even in implication. You’ve been warned.

Part 1 on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Arlong; during their raid on Arlong Park, something unnerving is discovered about the captain. [bad future!One Piece AU]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was nearly midday when the six Humans finally had Arlong Park in their sights. It took longer than it should have, thanks to needing to dodge Fish-Men that would have normally found and exposed them, but they were now all quietly hiding in a grove near a side-entrance.

“This is it, alright?” Kappa said. He looked at the other five, not entirely sure he was doing this. While Chabo carried one of Genzo’s axes, Tamanegi some throwing stars and caltrops, and Piiman a slingshot of all things, Ninjin and Rika seemed to both be unarmed. The motley crew before him made the long knives in his own hands seem simply deadly, not to mention professional. “Are you sure that this is what you all want to fight with? I see some of us are a little more properly armed than others.”

“This is the weapon of a brave warrior of the sea,” Piiman insisted.

“It’s a slingshot.”

“It’s still a weapon—we don’t have anything else with good range. Tam’s throwing arm’s shit.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true!”

Seas below and skies above—they were going to die.

“Kalyv has a better weapon and he has one of the hatchets we use to chop firewood.”

“Kakkun, please don’t bring me into this.”

“They need to know how fucked we are if they think they can go in like this. One of our first priorities should be finding the armory—can’t go in guns blazing if we don’t have guns.”

“You already said that’s the other side of the compound!” Piiman grimaced. “We’ll have to enter through there!”

“You can’t be serious,” Tamanegi gulped.

“Deadly—it’s either we make this, or we all die trying.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Rika chuckled. “So, you sure you know your way around there?”

“Since I’m the only one here who’s actually been inside, then yes,” he said. He thought momentarily about a mission long ago—the first of his early days in the Resistance—and steeled himself with a deep breath. “Alright; what’s your plan, Captain? I imagine you have one, considering all the confidence that is just radiating off you like it is the sun and you are the sand.”

“Get me to where Arlong is,” she said, cracking her knuckles.

“That’s not exactly what most people call ‘a plan’,” Tamanegi mentioned. Rika laughed at that, unfazed by his words.

“Shishishi—it is to me. Now are we going to get in there or are we just going to stand out here talking about it?” She only waited a second before dashing off towards the door in the side wall, surprising the rest of the party. Weren’t they just talking about how they needed the other side of the compound?! They clamored to rein her back in but it was too late: she had already opened the door and ran inside.

“She’s a fucking crazy-person!” Kappa cursed as the five men ran in after her. They were relieved to see that the room they were in was empty save for some supply stores, though it also meant that Rika had gone past another door and was nowhere to be seen.

“Like I said: we haven’t exactly been in a real fight before,” Piiman reminded Kappa as they ran through the corridors of Arlong Park. They mostly went unnoticed, only to come across Rika having stopped in front of a large Fish-Man over three meters tall.

“What in the hell are you lot doing in here…?” the Fish-Man wondered in Eastern, more confused than anything. He did not have time to react before a panicking Piiman used his slingshot to hit him in the face with a ball of paint, blinding him in order for them to go past.

“What sort of an ineffective piece of shit is that?!” Kappa snapped.

“Hey, it’s working,” Piiman fired back, only for his stomach to drop.

»Intruders!« the blinded Fish-Man shouted. His native tongue sounded positively alien to the island’s newcomers and sent chills down the spines of the two who’d been there before. »There’s intruders in the South Wing! Humans!«

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Chabo grimaced, running as far from the blinded Fish-Man as he could. The group, led by Kappa, ran through Arlong Park with surprising efficiency. It was clear that the full force of the pirate crew was not around, as there were few reinforcements and a lack of Human shock troops—it had been the perfect time to strike after all. With a well-placed punch from Ninjin here and some sliced hamstrings thanks to their varying bladed weapons there, they were able to make it to the grand courtyard, where the worst of them seemed to be waiting for them.

Arlong the Saw was there, sitting upon his throne.

»Would you look at that…?« the Fish-Man chuckled in his native tongue. »I should have known things were getting too quiet. The Human scum have sent an attack squad for me.«

“Arlong,” Rika announced, “you are going to remove yourself from the Conomi Islands and leave these people alone! I need a navigator if I’m going to head to the Grand Line, and your being here is stopping him from joining!”

“Shahahaha, you?! Sail the Grand Line?! Don’t make me laugh.” His Eastern was well-practiced, but accented, driving in the fact that the blue-skinned shark-man before them wasn’t originally from the island. He stood; even had he not been standing on a platform, he towered over the Humans. “You pieces of scum would barely last ten days, let alone long enough to need any sort of competent navigator. Who do you think you’re on the prowl to steal?”

“That’s none of your business,” Rika said. “Now pack up and leave, or suffer the consequences.”

Arlong and the rest of the Fish-Men who were gathered around broke into laughter. Few of them had ever heard anything as funny as the insignificant Human standing before their leader, and it showed.

“Aren’t you a little pistol?” one of the Fish-Men chortled.

“Yeah—I haven’t seen guts like hers since that ginger girl! What was her name?”

“Nami,” Arlong said, his face growing serious. “She was the only Human who was on-par with us, because she was better at navigation than anyone from any species that I’d ever seen.” He glared at the Humans in front of him, keeping his composure as rage simmered underneath. “Even she betrayed me and left this place in the end, went to hide somewhere away from here, and do you want to know what happened…?”

“You murdered nearly the entire village,” Chabo finished. Arlong grinned toothily.

“Oh…? Nearly…? That sounds as if you’re a loose end for me to tie up.” Chabo took a step back—shit.

“Rika…” he muttered, “might be a good time to break out that Devil Fruit right about now… turn into a bear or smoke or… whatever it is you do.”

Rika stood resolute as her companions all began to back in close together—there was nothing that was going to sway her.

“Last chance, Arlong,” she said. “Leave, or you’ll be sorry.”

“You’re a Human and I’m a Fish-Man; even though we’re both unarmed, I can take you in a fight… unless you think your rag-tag goon squad is going to do the heavy lifting for you.”

“They’re not going to do a thing,” Rika grinned. Arlong laughed.

“No drawn-out fight? No dividing your generals amongst mine? No grand battles that your kind is so terribly fond of? No speeches and Human cockiness, thinking that just because you’re born for the Surface, that means you’re loftier than the rest of us?”

“Yeah… I need none of that.”

“Shahahahaha… how do you propose you win this fight?”

She held out both her hands, fingers splayed out, and braced herself in a slightly wider stance.

“Looks like someone has been reading too many comics in the paper,” Arlong scoffed. “What do you call that attack? Hmm? Tell me, Sparking Red, what trick you have up your sleeve… if you had any? Shahahahaha… or let me guess… you’re Poison Pink? Siren Yellow?”

The rest of the Fish-Men laughed.

“Obh, obh… she fancies herself Sora… how pathetic.”

Rika grinned.

“Parasite.”

In an instant, Arlong’s stance grew stiff, the Fish-Man looking entirely shocked. He moved his limbs around awkwardly, taken aback at the fact he was even moving.

“What in the hell is going on?!” he snapped. He took the gun from his belt and began shooting at some of the other Fish-Men, killing them.

“Boss!? Why are you doing this?!”

“It’s not me! I can’t control myself!” Arlong claimed. Rika took her left hand and held it above her head, expression smug as she did so. Her fingers continuously twitched and moved as though she was playing multiple different sorts of musical instruments at once.

“Spiderweb,” she said. Translucent, iridescent strings created a cage around her and the other Humans, surprising them. It was not until one of the Fish-Men attempted to attack them and sliced their fist open on the strings did it fully register as to what was going on.

“I’ve never seen a Devil Fruit like this!” Kappa marveled. “Since when can you do that?!”

“I really don’t think this is the time to be nitpicking!” Piiman hissed.

“Arlong the Saw,” Rika said, raising her voice and lowering her expression into a scowl. “I gave you three chances and you squandered them. Now members of your crew are dead. What do you have to say?”

“Fuck you, puny Human,” he sneered. “These islands will be mine until the day I die.”

“Suit yourself.”

Arlong turned the gun on himself next, blasting a bullet through his temple and out the back of his skull. His corpse grew limp, yet stayed standing.

“You monster!” one of the remaining Fish-Men growled. Arlong’s corpse raised the gun in its hand and fired, hitting the Fish-Man in the shoulder.

“My aim’s always poorer this way,” Rika frowned. She stepped out of the Spiderweb and climbed the short stairs that led to Arlong’s throne, standing next to his corpse. His blood was spattered all over the chair, making it so that she deigned sitting down. “Your leader is dead—go back to whatever underground cave you swam up from. This island and archipelago are now under my protection, and I will not stand for you defiling them with whatever trafficking and extortion operations you have going on here.”

“Who in the hell are you?!”

“I am Straw Hat Rika, Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates and Future Pirate King! I carry the will and ambition of many from the past, so that I might find the destiny of this age! Leave now, or risk joining the likes of Arlong.”

“The other Bosses will take care of you, Straw Hat!” a Fish-Man declared as he stepped back. “Arlong the Saw was one of Five! The other four are still out there!”

“I think you mean three,” she replied. There was no emotion in her voice, in her face, as she stared down the Fish-Man. He swallowed hard, unnerved by her tone.

“There are four other East Blue Bosses,” he repeated. “Arlong was only one of them…”

“…you’re saying the others will come for me…? Others like Morgan…? Are you really banking on me possibly not knowing that he is very much dead, killed by the weapon that made him feared the lands over? I don’t know what sort of control you have on information, but that is last year’s news.”

“Oh shit,” Tamanegi whispered, his knees beginning to shake. The other Humans looked at him, still terrified themselves, now with extra concern.

“What’s the matter, Tam?” Ninjin asked.

“That’s why she said to not go to Shells Town,” Tamanegi realized. “She killed Axe-Hand Morgan.”

“Last night I would have called bullshit on you,” Chabo squeaked, “but I’m believing this with increased certainty every second.”

“I didn’t realize that Rika was so scary,” Piiman shivered. The five men watched as the Fish-Men all began to run from the courtyard, choosing their lives over sharing their leader’s fate. The Spiderweb faded as the last Fish-Man vanished from sight and Arlong’s corpse dropped heavily. Rika then staggered, stumbling down the steps until she crashed into the other Humans.

“Wow… I really am not all that good at maintaining it on big things yet,” she laughed weakly. She looked up at her navigator, grinning manically—the man whose arms she was in was able to keep his end of the bargain—before giggling in her lightheadedness. It was such a complete turnaround from how she was moments ago that the others were experiencing whiplash. “Kappa…? What’s that you said about there being food here?”

It was all the man could do to not fall over in shock.

“Let me get this straight: it sounds like you just killed your second East Blue Boss, and your main concern right now is food?!”

“That’s why I said that although toast is tasty…” She tried to stand up on her own, only to wobble and have Chabo catch her instead. “…I can’t do it on toast alone. Strings take a lot of energy, you know. These puppets are heavy, especially when they resist so much.”

Her five companions all looked at one another. Things just became infinitely more complicated. Ninjin took and threw her over his shoulders, carrying her like a sack of rice as they began their search of the compound—there had to be something in there for them to eat.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: translation notes are as follows: kalyv = idiot; obh obh = an expression analogous to oh dear

#Inherited Will Destiny of the Age Graveyard of Ambition and Dreams #One Piece #fan fiction #Rika #Syrup Trio #Veggie Trio #Piiman #Tamanegi #Ninjin #Kappa #Chabo #alternate Straw Hat Pirates #alternate Mugiwara Kaizokudan #alternate Mugiwara no Ichimi #gonna be straight with y'all: Rika terrifies me on a specific level #when that switch flips she's highly unnerving #which is exactly how I wanted her

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Note

Geralt attempts to bake cookies. That’s it that’s the prompt

Hi Cabbage-with-legs!

This is a Modern AU with Tired Dad! Geralt. + bonus pining

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“Geralt? Geralt what’s all this.”

Geralt’s shoulders slumped and he scraped dejectedly at the blackened hockey pucks on the cookie pan. “Cookies.”

“I’ve seen charcoal briquets less black, dear heart. What’s this about?” Jaskier said, leaning his shoulder against his best friend.

Geralt sighed and leaned into the touch, hardly even registering Jaskier’s neon pink Hawaiian shirt. “PTA bake sale. They need me to bake something so I’m trying but, well...” Geralt shuffled a spatula under one pathetic hockey puck and flicked it into the trash.

“Lucky you,” Jaskier said. “I am a world class baker.”

“You burn water.”

“Cooking and baking are very different, my friend.”

“We aren’t friends,” Geralt huffed.

“Not if you keep up that attitude. How much food does the bake sale need?”

Geralt sat in a creaky chair and looked at the ugly yellow wallpaper of his kitchen. “They said anything helps, but the school is really underfunded, they need to make a lot of money off of this.”

Jaskier sat across from Geralt and bumped his foot against his friend’s boot. He smiled sadly. He saw Geralt almost every day, and Geralt never saw him, not really. He never looked at Jaskier and saw him.

It didn’t matter because Jaskier saw Geralt, and would continue to do so until Geralt threw him from his life.

“Alright,” Jaskier said standing up. “It’s Saturday, so Triss won’t have work, I’ll text her, she can bring by some bread.”

“Don’t bother her,” Geralt said.

“She’ll want to help. Yennefer too, she’ll bring something by the bake sale as well.”

None of them had much money, but baking, well, for Ciri they could all do something.

“You and I,” Jaskier said, “We’re going to bake up a storm.”

Geralt stood. “No, Jaskier. Go away.”

“No, you need my help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fine,” Jaskier said, hand on one jutted hip, “Then take a bite out of one of those.” He nodded his head towards the blackened tray.

Geralt growled, but it was acquiescence.

“Great,” Jaskier said. “Now, lets start this again.” He tidied up the kitchen, loading the dirty dishes into Geralt’s ancient dishwasher and pressing start. He knew Geralt’s kitchen as well as he knew his own. When Renfri had died and left Ciri and Geralt all by themselves he’d done all the cooking here. Geralt had just sat in the chair in the living room and wouldn’t let go of Ciri. Jaskier had practically hand fed him.

Triss had called it sitting Shiva, even though she was the only Jewish person among them. From what she’d told Jaskier, though, Geralt had been doing something similar, even if he didn’t know it.

Now, though, they both moved about the kitchen. Geralt measured flour and sugar as directed and patiently took the bowl of frosting Jaskier pressed into his hands, stirring as directed.

Jaskier moved around him, orbiting Geralt like he always did, adding almond extract and nutmeg and an extra dash of salt because Geralt used too little. At one point their little dance messed up and Jaskier placed one floury hand on Geralt’s chest to keep him from backing up against the open oven door.

He looked at the dusty handprint on Geralt’s black hoodie, right over his heart. Geralt smiled softly.

“Thanks, I would have fallen right into the oven, there,” he said.

Jaskier chuckled, “Yeah, Hansel, can’t eat you yet I have to fatten you up,” he poked Geralt in his rock hard abs. “You’d be awfully stringy.”

Geralt rumbled a laugh, deep in his chest. “I guess I’m not prime cannibal fodder, huh?” He crossed to the laptop, open to their recipe. “What’s next?”

“I’m sure there’s someone who’d take a bite out of you,” Jaskier said absently. “But we’re done with the cookies now that they’re in the oven, onto the cake.”

“We’re making a cake?” Geralt said. He looked in dismay at the cookies already in the oven.

“Unless you’d rather make the pies first,” Jaskier said. “And yes, we are. You and I are going to nail this PTA bake sale.” He watched the way Geralt sighed, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the little roll they did to loosen the tension.

He patted Geralt on one such shoulder, looking into a pale hazel gaze. “Drink some coffee, we’ll be up a while.”

Geralt moved to start the coffee. “Is the--”

Jaskier handed him the little scoop that Geralt used to measure out his coffee and Geralt turned around to face Jaskier.

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say,” he said.

“I did, I know you.” Geralt stepped close and looked at Jaskier with lazer focus.

Please, Jaskier thought. For once in your life just, see me.

“You have flour in your hair,” Geralt said, then turned back to the coffeemaker.”

Jaskier held in a sigh and began pulling up the recipe he liked for chocolate cake. “Do you have cocoa?” He asked.

“Cupboard,” Geralt grunted. There where multiple cupboards in the kitchen, but Jaskier knew which one Geralt meant.

They descended again into their orbiting dance.

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

Morning dawned to find a messy kitchen and two men asleep at the kitchen table. Ciri looked around, registered the mountain of cookies and muffins, four pies and two cakes, then got herself cereal. Jaskier woke up, the seam of his sleeve had pressed into his face in his sleep.

“Have you kissed my dad yet?”

Jaskier blinked away sleep to see Ciri, still in her Wonder Woman pajamas, eating a bowl of coco puffs while standing in the middle of the kitchen. He made to stand to give her the chair, but she shook her head.

“Stay put, you must’ve worked hard. When I went to bed Dad had just burned his second batch of cookies. I repeat, have you kissed my dad yet?”

“Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t want to kiss me,” Jaskier said. “He looks right through me.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri said. It was so like her father that Jaskier had to smile.

“Hello darling,” Triss said, closing the door with her foot behind her. “Jas, you’re up, I figured you’d be asleep...oh,” she glanced at Geralt, conked out on the table, then looked at the pile of baked goods. “Nice job, I brought Challah, soda bread, and Irish brown bread.”

Jaskier stood and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, I appreciate it, Triss.”

“Aunt Triss,” Ciri said. “Do you think my dad wants to kiss Jaskier?”

“Of course, why?”

“He doesn’t even really know I exist,” Jaskier said.

“He does too.”

“He knows I exist but he looks right through me, Triss, I’m a ghost in his life.”

The front door creaked open then slammed, startling Geralt awake.

“Whazzit?”

“It’s probably Yennefer,” Jaskier said.

Geralt blinked his eyes hurriedly and brushed back his pale hair.

Yennefer stomped in and set down a tray full of lemon bars. “For the bake sale.” She looked up at Geralt, who was smiling at her. “You have frosting on your face.”

Jaskier stepped into the other room and Triss followed. Ciri stepped out after them, still spooning cereal into her mouth.

“He sees her,” Jaskier whispered.

“You like Yen,” Triss said.

“I do, she’s terrifying and fun, but I just wish he looked at me like that, like he noticed me.”

“He notices you,” Ciri said.

“Jaskier,” Geralt called from the other room.

Ciri smirked. “See?”

Jaskier reentered the kitchen. “What’s up.”

“I’m loading stuff into my car, help.”

Jaskier promptly took a few trays of muffins and began to walk them out to Roach, Geralt’s ‘84 Chevy Nova. It wasn’t a beautiful car but Geralt loved her, and Jaskier had grown to love her too. The four of them, watched by Ciri, loaded up the baked goods and Jaskier went to get in the passenger seat.

“You’re not coming,” Geralt said.

Jaskier faltered but recovered well. “Oh, well of course. And since I’m your very best friend--”

“Not my friend.”

“I’ll stay and clean up the kitchen,” Jaskier finished.

Triss made a sympathetic face at him, kissed Ciri on the forehead, and left. Yen nudged him in a mostly friendly way and swept out after her.

Ciri watched him clean up, sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen. Unusually, neither of them said a word the entire time. When the last dish was put away she said.

“You know, I’m not sure Dad sees many people, not sees them. I’m not always sure he sees me. It doesn’t mean you aren’t important to him.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “You’re very wise for fourteen.”

“I am. Extremely.”

“He sees her.”

“That’s because he’s slightly scared of her.”

Jaskier leaned with both hands on the counter and stared between them. “Ciri, you know I love you dearly?”

“Yes.”

“And I won’t stop loving you. Not ever. But I might not come around so often. I promise it doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“Just that you think Dad doesn’t care about you.”

“I know he does,” Jaskier said, looking up and crossing to where Ciri sat. “But he can’t even call me his friend. I can’t do that anymore. I need to...I need to not do that. At least for a while.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ciri said, setting down her empty bowl and hugging Jaskier. “He’ll miss you too.”

“I’m going to miss both of you too, but I need to do this. I’ll still come to every last one of your gymnastics meets. And I’ll still be your Uncle Jas.”

Cir pulled back from her hug, jaw set but her eyes dry. “I wish you could be my papa instead.” Jaskier kissed her on the forehead.

“Bye Ciri, I’ll see you next week when you get another medal.”

She waved at him as he left.

Jaskier didn’t look up from the bus floor the whole ride back to his shithole apartment. The ugly green carpet on the floor of his room still looked the same. He shrugged and began to work on grading papers. There was no more he could do.

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

Jaskier was surprised to find that the day had passed easily. He’d only had to turn his thoughts away from Geralt every time he started to think of him.

Then there was a knock on the door and Jaskier suddenly couldn’t stop thinking of Geralt. There he was, drenched, from the sudden rainstorm and dripping in his apartment’s doorway.

Geralt shoved a fist out, holding some supermarket flowers, the daisies they dyed in obnoxious colors. Usually Jaskier found them ugly but these, battered and very, very neon, were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

“What?--”

“We aren’t friends I want to kiss you,” Geralt said in one breath.

“What?!”

“I don’t want to kiss friends. I want to kiss you a lot. All the time.”

“You never even look at me,” Jaskier said.

“I do, just not when you’re looking.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to catch me staring at your lips I want to kiss you, Jaskier.” He stared into Jaskier’s eyes, unwavering. “I see you.”

“Who told you?”

“Triss. I came home and the kitchen was clean and Ciri was sort of mad at me and you were gone so I called her and panicked,” Geralt paused for breath. “And she told me. I see you. I promise I do. maybe not all the time but I’m not good at noticing people all the time I’m...Renfri could do that. I can’t. You can notice people all the time but I just don’t. I’m sorry. I do notice you though, I see you, I promise.”

“You see me,” Jaskier said. He watched Geralt’s eyes as they looked downwards. At his lips.

“I don’t want to kiss friends, Jaskier,” Geralt whispered. “Please, please may I kiss you.”

Jaskier nodded.

Geralt tasted like the peppermint Chapstick that he bought around Christmas and hoarded all through the year. A kiss had never been so good.

Geralt pulled back and handed Jaskier the flowers. “You don’t like this kind but I like them because they remind me of you.”

“They do?”

“They’re bright and if you were a flower Ciri said you’d be a daisy.”

Jaskier smiled. “You got her advice, on what flowers to get me.”

Geralt nodded. “She knows these things. There’s cookies, back home. I bought some from the bake sale. Someone made white chocolate macadamia nut and I know they’re your favorite.”

“Fine, Geralt. I’ll go back home with you.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’m not moving all my stuff in tonight, but yes, eventually I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

“Ciri’s going to have to stop calling me uncle now. It’ll give people the wrong idea.”

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It got away from me. Whoops. Happy ending for all, though.

#ciri #Geralt is a good dad #modern au #geraskier #pining #not unrequited #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier

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celestialmango · 3 years

Text

Scared prey, gentle Pred, artificial monster Pred, honestly this stuff is very loosely based on a dream I had last night. Reader insert, (I don't know if what the pred feels is romantic or platonic. You decide) a dude gets the shit beat out of him off screen.

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

You're shaking and sobbing with your hands covering your mouth as you try to quiet yourself so you won't be found, you can't escape, they're in the hall that leads to the exit of the experiment containment part of the facility carved out inside of a cavern and you're locked inside one of the adjoining rooms. You flinch at the crushing and snapping of bone and smell copper in the air, tears well up in your eyes at the sounds, You remember how this situation started in the first place and choke on air at the smell you know is blood.

---------

"Is it ready?" Your teammate asked you close to the route the race will be on, the route made up of different obstacles starting with a forested area followed by rocky terrain and finishing off with a water based obstacle, you smile cheerily 'yeah, our driver here should be.' you pay the shoulder of the semi-robotic being of flesh and metal, "well I finish the vehicle it can-" you interrupt 'don't call them an it.' Your teammate sighs "(y/n) it's not even sentient." You gasp and clap your hands over the ears of the unresponsive four armed creature sitting on the crate in front of you 'how dare!'

Your teammate sighs and pinches the bridge of their nose"alright fine, they, so they can drive it. Better?" You let go of the beings ears, 'much, thank you. So the other teams are pretty much ready so we just need to get them in the vehicle and I'll monitor their vitals right?' you had been added to this team recently and the monster had already been made when you got there a few months back, you had been added on after a scuffle between the previous caretaker of the creature and the team leader left with them getting kick out of the team.

The creature continues to stare forward empty eyed and unmoving reminiscent of a doll sat on a shelf and left there, your job was to check it over and keep an eye on it's vital signs but honestly, you have kinda abused your position and would sometimes just go vent to it, even though you know it was no better than talking to a stuffed animal but you always felt better afterwards, you finish getting them ready and help move them into the multi-terain vehicle. 'so this is just the preliminary right? Why do you alchemists and mages make these guys in the first place? And why the race?' you finally decide to ask the team lead the big questions.

"Yes to the first, second to test our skills and about the race bit? That part's just for fun." They answer as you both get into place, 'you magic dudes are weird' "heh heh, well you took the job, what's that say about you?" you huff like you're offended but your smile gives you away. A shot goes off and the race starts. Thing go fine with the first two terrains, but something goes wrong with the third, 'Hey we need to pull back something's wrong, what is that?!' some sort of dark mass starts trying to drag all the vehicles under. "What the hell?!" Your team lead yells at the coordinator "I thought you said the path was cleared!" They dash over to where you are still monitoring the wildly fluctuating vital signs of the artificial being, "shit."

The team lead overrides the vehicle and manages to snap it free and have it return to start, the rest of the teams not so lucky the vehicles crush or dragged under, as their creation skids to a stop neither of you notice the tiny oily splotch of black slip into the cracks of the vehicle and sink into the creatures skin. Team lead opens the cockpit and drags the still doll like construction out and while they check the vehicle you check over the artificial monster concerned.

"Fuck it's shot, I'm going to have to replace so many parts, how's our driver?" You look up from where your crouched over the still form, 'alive, doesn't look hurt, you guys built them pretty sturdy' your team lead sighs. "Well somebody sabotaged the race, in anycase we'll take them back to the under lab facility to monitor them and make sure there's nothing wrong." You give them a concerned look but nod.

-------

Deep inside the lab you enter a hall filled with empty rooms to hold experiments that lock from the outside, you both set the creature in their room on their bench, your team leader leaves before you and turn to the creature cup on it's cheeks with your hand, inanimate they may be you still got attached,brush their cheek with your thumb as you speak softy 'i was worried about you but I'm sure it will be okay' you say mostly just to reassure yourself before you let your hand fall away and walk out of the room, before you shut the door you give the creature your final parting words 'night big guy.' Before you shut and lock the door.

the creatures finger twitches of its own volition.

-------

Hours later you're finished up paperwork when you feel a gun pressed to your head, you freeze up,"take me to my creation or I'll blow your brains out" it's the previous caretaker, you want to live so you do as asked, you take them into the experiment containment hall and lead them to the room the creature is stored in, they throw you into the room across the hall and lock you in before opening the other room to see the four armed being still sitting where you left them.

They stand in front of it, it's hair is covering it's face, "you're coming with me you abomination, what a wrenched thing." they reach out a hand to yank the creature to it's feet when one of their hands snaps up and grabs their wrist, the creature raises it's head and levels a terrifying glare at their ex-caretaker as a bone chilling raspy voice leaves their throat "don't call me that."

-----

That was when the sounds of screaming and the snapping of bone started to sound and you had huddled up in a corner in fear and started sobbing terrified, that's what led up to now.

Your panick breath and a stiffled sob cause them to snap their head to the room you're locked in as they drop their unconscious punching bag, as you hear their footsteps appoch your tears get heavier, a screech of metal as the rip the door of it's hinges, with the light behind them their form as well as cold and hostile face terrify you more as their eyes glow in the darkness, "you...." You flinch at their voice. "I remember you..." They start to approach you and your teary eye squeeze shut as you try to make yourself as small as possible.

You don't see their expression twist at this, they know they don't like this, they don't like you looking like this, but they feel so empty now and you-....they crouch in front of your frightened form and one set of hands grasps your own and the other set cups your face and rubs your cheeks with their thumbs wiping tears away, "shhhh, hey, shhhh, hey look at me." Their voice soft as they address you , your heart still pounding in your chest and still choking on sobs quietly you open your eyes and look at them.

Their expression toward you is different then when you first saw them after the ripped open the door, different from when you first came here, there's life in their eyes now, they're no longer glazed over and their expression looks a bit sad. "Shhhh, I remember you, you'll be okay" you whimper as they pull your face closer to them and the set of hands that were holding yours pin your arm to your sides "shhhh, shhhh, it's okay" they say as their jaw unhinges and their maw streaches open causing your eyes to widen and tears to start rolling down your face again.

They shove your head in and swallow, they groan, you're the best thing they've ever tasted, being a construct they never needed food, but they suppose you don't know that seeing as you kept feeding them, their hands that had previously grasped your face now pin your arms to your side and the others move down as you try to squirm away, they swallow again and you slip further inside their throat as a whine escape you, you feel their hand gently squeeze at you as they swallow again and you sink in further into the grasp on their tight muscles as the continue to speedily pull you inside. They stand and tilt themselves and your lower torso and now pinned leg into the air with a thick gulp you're dragged in to your thighs.

One set of their hands rubs their stomach as it fills uncomfortably and they wince, they've never swallowed this much before, you continue to sob softly as their other set of hands keeps you from flailing and grip firmly before shoving and gulping thickly, their gut feeling more painful the more of you they stuff inside, they continue to do this repeatedly until your shoes are all that's left outside their maw, they remove them and swallow, sealing your fate as you're crammed tightly inside their stomach, they feel sick but at the same time it feels really good, they place all four hands on their distended gut that groans and gurgles as if to protest what they've done and rub at it, drool running down their chin feeling you shake and hearing your sobs they start again "shhhh" the press a bit firmer as the rub putting more pressure on your tightly curled form cradled by gurgling flesh that just scares you more

"Uh-gah" they gasp in discomfort but continue "shhhh, it's okay, it'll be okay" they know they've scared you, but they just felt so empty, but you're in there now, now they feel full and warm "shhhh" that goo did something to them, gave them a sentience they didn't have before, but it could never give them what you have, they remember everything from before they were awakened, "uhmmm" they groan in pleasure as they feel you squirm inside them. As much as they'd love to just sit down and enjoy the feeling they know they have to get out of here now.

-------

They wonder deeper into the woods as they continue to rub at their wriggling gut before finding a place to hide themselves and sit down to enjoy the feeling as they continue from where they left off trying to soothe both their stomach and you, their belly now used to the feeling of being stretched and filled so much. "MMmmm, shhhh, not gonna hurt you" and they won't, "you'll be okay." Physically. "I love you" and they mean it, they got more attached to you than you did them.

#safe vore #soft vore #v*re #v0re #scared prey

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eastofthemoon · 3 years

Text

Title: A Rose Has Thorns

Rating: G

Series: The Owl House

Characters/Pairings: Hunter/Willow

Summary: It was Hunter's first solo mission since he left the Emperor's Coven and moved into the Owl House. All he had to achieve was purchase a few items at the market. That should be simple, right?

Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Luz asked.

Hunter sighed as he held up the list, swinging the basket over his shoulder. “I can handle a shopping trip, Luz.”

“Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you’re not exactly used to things like shopping,” Luz retorted. “I mean, from what Lilith said about the Emperor's Coven...”

Hunter couldn’t deny that. Most of the domestic chores in the Emperor’s Coven were handled by servants or abominations. Hunter had never even done his own laundry until he found himself living at the Owl House.

That had been an interesting lesson. Eda claimed Hunter had done well, but Hunter had a hunch that setting clothes on fire was not as common as Eda claimed.

Hunter sighed as his cardinal flew to his shoulder. “Look, I’ll be fine. I have my palisman with me and I have actually bought things before.”

Luz chewed her lower lip. “Yeah, but-”

Eda placed a hand on Luz’s shoulder. “Let him go, kiddo. If Hunter wants to do this solo we've gotta respect that.”

“Besides, it’s not like he could do any worse than you did,” King called out from the couch. “He just has to avoid trusting any wizards.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Why would I trust a wizard? They’re famous for being shady-”

“Oh, wow, would you look at the time,” Luz said nervously as she pointed over her shoulder. “I have to, uh, go get ready for my date with Amity! See you later, Hunter! Byyyyyye!”

Luz hastily dashed out of the room. Hunter turned to Eda.

“Do I... want to know?” he asked.

“Meh, I'll fill you in on the blackmail later,” Eda said as she crossed her arms. “Seriously, kid, you sure you don’t want to at least take King with you?”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back within the hour.”

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

Two hours later, Hunter couldn't suppress the twitch in his eyelid. He had finally managed to find almost every item on the list... except for formian crystal. He was almost tempted to just return empty-handed, but he knew the house needed it for their crystal ball - whatever his opinions on King's shows.

Besides, it was a matter of pride at this point. After his declarations, how could he prove to Luz and Eda that he could be useful and handle things like a normal person if he didn't return with every item on the list?

Unacceptable.

His cardinal gave a comforting tweet. It had tried to give him some suggestions, but hadn’t been in the market place for a long time. So in spite of intentions, the little palisman knew even less than Hunter.

Hunter patted the cardinal’s head as he glanced around the various shoppers passing by. There were many less people around at this time of day which admittedly is why he had come alone. There was a much lower risk of one of the Emperor Coven guards spotting and arresting him on the spot.

Still, Hunter wasn’t thrilled with the idea of asking someone for help. What if they recognized him and reported him? Maybe if he picked the right shopkeeper- Wait. Not far from him were a couple of girls close to his age.

Chances of them turning me in is lower, Hunter thought and walked over. At least if they're anywhere near as anti-authority as the human. I’ll ask them.

The two girls were laughing over some joke, but stopped abruptly as they noticed Hunter approaching.

“Hey, can I ask you two a quick question?” he asked.

The girl with pink hair and three eyes looked at him and smirked. “If you mean where to get a better fashion sense, that is not going to be a 'quick' answer. Where do we even begin?”

“Uh no,” Hunter said with a raised eyebrow. “I just wanted to know where I could find someone selling formian crystal.”

The other girl tapped her chin in thought. “Um. That's for old crystal balls, right? I think there’s a booth over in the east-”

“West side,” the pink haired girl jumped in with a grin. “She means there’s a seller on the far west side of the market.” She turned to her friend. “Right, Skara?”

The girl named Skara blinked, but then nodded rapidly. “Oh..uh, yeah, like Boscha said.” She gave a shaky smile and pointed. “To the far, far west side. Nearly...outside the market?”

“West side, okay,” Hunter said as he started walking in that direction. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the girl named Boscha said with a smirk.

Hunter found her a bit odd, but he was too worn out from shopping to worry about it.

“Last item. Last item! I can do this. I just need to get this done so we can head home,” he said aloud to his cardinal.

Another hour later, Hunter had been up and down the west side of the market three times but he still hadn’t found any formian crystal.

“Where is it,” he grumbled as his cardinal hovered nearby. “It’s supposed to be here!”

The cardinal tweeted in his ear.

“No, I will not just go home,” Hunter said as they continued to walk. “I can't fail my mission, and it isn't complete until I find-”

Suddenly, he walked straight into someone's back. The pair of them let out a grunt as each, separately, stumbled and fell to the ground.

Hunter quickly forgot about his annoyance as he scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, are you okay?”

The person he had bumped into was another girl. She waved off his concern as she adjusted her glasses and dusted the dirt off her clothes.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a small smile. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

A bee palisman carrying a small basket hovered nearby and the girl gave it a pat on the head. “I’m okay, Clover - oh dear.”

Hunter looked down and saw what she had noticed. The items from his basket had fallen out when he had crashed into her.

“Great,” Hunter grumbled as he knelt down and started picking them up. “Just what I needed.”

He started gathering up and inspecting the items for damage, engrossed in his task until a jar of toad jam was suddenly thrust in his face. He hadn’t realized the girl was kneeling next to him and was helping to gather everything

Hunter blushed. “Uh, thanks,” he replied. Why didn’t I see that?

“You're welcome,” the girl replied, still smiling. “Do you need help with anything else?”

Hunter sighed. “Actually, yes,” he said as he rose. “Can you tell me where I can get some formian crystal?”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Formian crystal? Here?”

“Yes. The vendor that’s supposed to be stationed in this area.”

The girl frowned. “Um..last time I checked, no one in this part of the market has ever sold anything like that. This is the area for fertilizers, cloth dyes, and any of the really pungent produce.”

“What?!” Hunter cried. “But that Boscha girl said there was a stall here for it.”

The girl’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she held a tight frown. “Wait, Boscha? Three eyed girl with pink hair? She told you to come here?”

Hunter didn’t like where this was going. “Uh, yes. I’ve been searching for over an hour.”

The girl sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Boscha, honestly…” She shook her head. “I kind of hate to tell you this, but she lied.”

“What?” Hunter growled. “Why would she do that?”

Was it all a trap? Was she working with the Emperor’s Coven-

“Because she’s a mega jerk and probably thought sending you to the 'smelly' end of the market would be funny,” the girl replied firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “She has a twisted sense of humor.” She pointed to herself. “Personal experience.”

“Oh,” Hunter mumbled. “That kind of makes sense.”

He glanced over the list. Maybe he should just head back now. He had wasted enough time as is and there would be...concerns if he wasn’t back soon.

The girl gave a small smile and pointed. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

Hunter blinked. “Um..take me where?”

“To where you can get some formian crystal.”

Hunter frowned and tilted his head. “You will? But... why?”

“Because I want to,” the girl replied. “Besides, I was heading in that direction anyway.”

Hunter paused. Should he trust her? What if this was another trick? But without her intelligence, he had no way to avoid failing his objective.

“Are you coming?” the girl asked with a concerned frown.

Hunter shook his head. “Yes, sorry. I was just lost in thought.”

The girl smiled back. “I’m Willow by the way.”

“Hunter,” he replied, frowning to himself. Willow? That name sounds familiar. Wonder why?

He tossed the thought aside and quickly caught up with her.

True to Willow’s word, she took her directly to a stall selling assorted magical crystals, including what he was looking for. She even helped him bargain to get it a few snails cheaper.

Hunter tucked the small bag carefully in the basket.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Willow replied with a smile. “I know what it’s like dealing with a bully far too well.”

So, do I, but on a different scale, Hunter thought as his mind drifted back to the Emperor’s Coven.

His cardinal tweeted and Hunter patted his head. “I have to get home, but thanks again for the help.”

“Sure thing,” Willow said as she began to walk in the other direction, the bee buzzing busily beside her. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hunter said with a wave.

As he walked home. The girl’s name bugged him. Willow...Willow...I know I've heard that name somewhere, but where?

Hunter got his answer exactly two days later.

Luz had invited two of her friends over for a 'study session'. Amity had apparently been dragged off into ‘bonding sibling time’ with her brother and sister, which was admittedly a bit of a relief for Hunter. She was still suspicious of him over that whole Eclipse Lake business.

Gus was the first to arrive. He seemed wary of Hunter, but was mostly friendly.

“If Luz says you’re okay, then I’m willing to trust her opinion,” Gus said. “She’s a pretty good judge of character. Besides, it's hard to pull the wool over an illusionist's eyes!”

Hunter couldn’t help but agree with him. Or at least his opinion of Luz.

They chatted for a bit before Luz’s other friend arrived. Hearing a new, and yet somewhat familiar voice, Hunter raised his head and froze.

It was the same girl who had helped him at the market. It was only then his brain connected the dots.

Willow, as in Luz’s friend Willow who she talks about all the time, Hunter thought with a gulp. Cursing his poor memory, he stood up.

“And this is Hunter,” Luz said as she pointed to Hunter. “Also formerly known as - wait for it - the Golden Guard.”

Willow gave a shaky smile, but it vanished as she spotted Hunter. The basket slipped from her fingers, kept up only by her bee palisman's efforts.

Hunter coughed as he gave a sheepish wave. “Um...hi?”

He could feel everyone’s eyes on them as the silence between the two of them continued.

She’s probably just as surprised as I am, Hunter thought.

Luz got in between them and frowned. “Something wrong?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...we've met before. Actually."

Luz tilted her head as Gus grasped his chin in thought, muttering under his breath.

“You have? When?” Luz asked.

“Uhh…” Hunter stammered as he struggled to find an explanation that wouldn’t have Luz fretting over him.

“In my dads’ shop,” Willow chimed in quickly, fending off King's attempt to climb her and peer into her basket.

Hunter blinked. “The shop?”

Willow gave him a look and suddenly he understood.

“Rrriigghhhttt,” Hunter said slowly and gave a shaky smile. “I was just curious so I popped in for a quick look.”

“Yeah, and we had a nice little chat,” Willow added.

“Oh,” Luz said as she placed an arm around Hunter’s shoulder. “Man, the Boiling Isles. Small world, am I right?”

“Suspiciously small,” Gus commented, tapping the spine of a book.

“Who cares,” King said as he pointed at Willow. “The important thing is that I’m smelling tasty yum-yums that should be in my tum-tum, but they're still in that basket. You have brought tribute to your monarch, and it must be delivered!”

Willow smiled. “You're right!” she glanced at Luz. “It’s snaggle bread but my dads left out the fairy wings so Luz can enjoy it.”

“Aw, that was nice of them,” Luz said as she moved to take the basket. “How about I get some plates?”

“I can do it, I know where they are,” Willow offered as she headed into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Luz said. “There should be some toad jam in the cupboard too! Fresh from the market!”

Hunter glanced behind as his cardinal landed on his shoulder.

“Um..I’ll go make us some tea,” Hunter offered as he pointed. “Be right back.”

He ignored their baffled expressions as he ventured into the kitchen. Willow didn’t turn around. Hunter hesitated, considering talking to her, but finally just moved towards the kettle in silence, turning on the tap.

More silence followed until Hunter turned off the tap and placed the full kettle onto the stove.

The clearing of a throat caused Hunter to look up. Willow had finished arranging slices of bread on a plate with the jar of jam, and was rifling through the butter knives.

“Ssssooo,” Willow began as her bee fetched teacups from the pantry, “I’m assuming you didn’t want Luz to hear how we actually met?”

Hunter covered his face with one hand. “Yes, please,” he groaned. “If she found out how my first shopping trip went, she would never let me live it down.”

Willow’s face softened. “Luz isn’t like that,” she admonished as her bee palisman landed on her shoulder. “But I get how being tricked by Boscha can be kind of embarrassing, so I’ll respect your pride.”

Hunter sighed. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Willow crossed her arms. “However, there is something else I want to make clear.” Her eyes narrowed. “Amity and I do talk about things, after all."

Hunter sighed. He’d been expecting this. “All right, let me have...it?”

Suddenly, Willow was holding one of the knives and was stomping forward. Hunter barely had time to react before he found himself pinned against the wall. His cardinal gave a concerned tweet, but the bee was buzzing angrily nearby and it stayed where it was on the counter.

Hunter could theoretically get out of this. Probably. Maybe. Willow was shorter than him and he had more training, but she had a weapon and he didn't - not to mention the sheer determination shining in her eyes.

“Luz is a very dear friend to me, and I care a lot about King, Eda and Hooty,” Willow stated firmly as she held the butter knife unwaveringly. “Now. I do believe in second chances. That's why Amity and I are friends again.”

“Under...stood,” Hunter said slowly, wondering how a simple butter knife could be more threatening than Kikimora's clawed monsters.

“I do, however, wish to inform you that Luz is friends with a plant witch. Plant witches know about plants. Including which ones are very toxic,” Willow pulled his shirt collar close until both of their noses were touching. “If you betray Luz, or Gus, or Amity or anyone in this house you'll get first-hand knowledge of dragon fly blossoms.”

“The... burning, stinging kind?” Hunter guessed.

“The same,” Willow said as her bee gave another buzz. “Do we have an understanding?”

“Clear as formian crystal,” Hunter replied as he held up his hands.

Willow’s smile returned. She slipped the butter knife up her sleeve and her bee suddenly became much calmer.

“Good,” she said and took a deep breath as she steadied herself. “Oh boy, that took a lot out of me.”

Hunter wasn’t sure how to reply, but was thankfully saved by King’s voice.

“Where are those snacks?!” he cried. “Your tiny tyrant is getting hungry here!”

“Be right there,” Willow called as she gathered up the plates. “Coming?”

“In a minute. I, um. Need to wait for the water to boil to make tea,” Hunter added quickly.

Willow smiled, nodded and left the kitchen.

Hunter took deep breaths until he heard the kettle boil, removed it from the stove and started pouring it over the teabags. As he was putting the lid on the teapot Hooty extended his head into the kitchen window.

“Wooow, that was intense,” Hooty commented.

“No kidding,” Hunter commented as his cardinal landed on his shoulder and then paused. “Wait, you saw the whole thing?”

“I see everything in this house,” Hooty replied cheerfully. "Eeeeeverythiiiiing."

“And you didn’t do anything? Say anything?!” Hunter asked.

“Willow wouldn’t have hurt you unless she had to,” Hooty replied as he smiled. “She’s a lovely lady who's as sweet as a dragon fly blossom.”

Hunter kind of understood. Helping out during his first shopping trip proved what kind of person she was. And yet, there was that look in her eyes. Willow, for all her sweetness, was clearly also a person who was willing to protect those around her. Whatever the cost.

Even A Rose Has Thorns, Hunter thought.

It was a line from one of Belos’s old books. Hunter never quite understood the significance. Of course roses had thorns. It was just how they were.

He looked to where Willow had stood. Now he felt like he understood the full significance.

“She’s very admirable,” Hunter muttered, andis cardinal tweeted in agreement.

He glanced at Hooty and saw the house demon was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You liiiiike her,” Hooty sang as he wiggled about.

Hunter blushed. “What? Well...Yes, I mean I hope to be her friend.”

“Oh, old Hooty has been around all the blocks! This is clearly the beginning of a slow-burning subconscious unrequited crush,” Hooty replied in a sly tone. "That is, for noooooow~"

Hunter waved his hands in the air. “What makes you think that?!”

“Oh, I don't knooooow," Hooty smirked. "Why are you blushing?”

The words died in Hunter’s mouth as he fumbled with the kettle, putting it aside and sweeping the teapot onto a tray.

“I’m leaving now,” he declared.

“Feel free to ask me for advice,” Hooty called to his retreating back. “I’m knowledgeable in all the glorious and sinister ways of the heart! Just look at how I helped Lumity set sail! Literally!”

Hunter vowed he would never ask as he left the kitchen. And did his best to ignore the tweeting of the cardinal on his shoulder.

#huntlow #winter #the owl house #willow park #hunter the golden guard #my writing #toh

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Forced Marriage (Baekhyun, Sehun, you)

A/n : hey so this story was written last year when SuperM drama was out, but I never continue it and I just checked this again because of the WIP tag. (once again thanks to @yutahoes ) and I want to post this to see if actually there's still EXOL here who wants to read a fanfic

I will write the second part (ending) for this, after hearing if you want to end with who

tagging @yutahoes coz Sehun is a major role here hehehe and i don't really know other exols but @neopalette usually wants to read my fics (thanks honey!) and @swagmonsterofficial also could help

trigger warning: strict parents, old-classic ideology of arranged marriage

Here we go..

“Let’s get married, (y/n)!” The cheeky boy beside you blurts out and stops you in your track.

Your eyes widen, your steps taken to a halt, and his smile? His smile is still there.

“A wedding?” you turn your body to face him. Earlier you are walking ahead of him into the woods, running away from your parent’s “important talk”.

You live in the big house on the end of the road, where wilderness is still a thing. An hour ago, your parents told you to get dressed up as an important guest is coming, and you’re expected to look decent for lunch.

But here you are now, thirty minutes into the invitation, you’re walking in the woods with your best friend of a lifetime, or so you hope.

Baekhyun has been your neighbour since you moved in. His house is just one throw of pebble. Your bedroom window and his are face to face and that makes your friendship with him totally wonderful. When phones are not yet a thing, you don’t have trouble to see what he is doing at night, talking through written messages on a paper has been a way you two “chat” late at night.

Baekhyun nods his head and reaches for your hand, he guides you through his imagination of what he calls “our future small family”

“Yes, we will get married, in the same way you’ve always wished! In a garden, with a priest blessing our vows. You will wear your dream gown, with flower crowns like how you read in your princess tales! I got to pick you up in a carriage! Dad can work it out, what colour do you want for the carriage?” Baekhyun sounds so happy and innocent.

You hold yourself from tears, well he doesn’t know yet the reason why you run from your house’s back door to the woods. Baekhyun happens to see you run from his bedroom and he decides to follow you. You did not say anything, just replied to his surprising greeting with a surprised tone. Other than that, you’ve kept your mouth shut. Now it questions you why Baekhyun suddenly asks you for marriage.

“Umm why are you suddenly asking me this Baek?” a glint of hope reflects from this seeming normal question.

“Hmm maybe because I don’t want to lose you?” He shrugs playfully and swings the intertwined hands as he drags you for a deeper walk.

You think it is not a good idea to walk deeper, since you need to return after this if you did not want to end up with bruises.

“What kind of mind is that Baekhyun! I am here!” you try your best to sound happy.

He stops walking and faces you, gently he bends down to match your shorter height and he cups your face. “You know sometimes what we think won’t be gone, might be gone in a blink of an eye when one forgets to hold on tight.” He gives a small force to squeeze your cheeks and he giggles, ‘Hey since when did your cheeks lose their squishiness? You got thinner! Come join me for dinner mom can cook your favourite steak!”

Baekhyun did not know the reason you’re thinner is because you’ve skipped dinner. Fighting with your parents made you lock yourself in the room, skip dinner and lost appetite.

“Well, I’d love that but right now is not the time. Besides, what time is it Baek?” you ask him a new topic so you don’t have to answer his proposal.

Baekhyun glances at his analogue, “It’s ten minutes to twelve.”

You gulp and know you’re screwed. Returning to the house and dressing up will take some time and you’ll most likely show up at the dining table 15 minutes late. Like it or not, you have to go back now.

“Um Baekhyun I have some things to do, catch you later.” You quickly turn your heels and dash through the woods. Baekhyun frowns, but also follows your steps.

“Hey slow down! You’ll fall and get hurt.” Baekhyun yells to you, who is already a few steps ahead of him. This is so weird, you usually always ask him to accompany you, since you’ve once got lost in the forest. Come to think of it, you left by yourself today here. Why? That is unusual.

All these questions remain unanswered as Baekhyun sees you from the mouth of the forest, running to the back door and rushing all the way to your room.

You disappear from the veins covered gates of your backyard, and lonely Baekhyun takes the left path to his house. He smells the delicious lunch his kitchen is making. Well, as his stomach grumbles from hunger, Baekhyun tosses aside his problems and dash to wash his hands and dress for lunch.

Your expectation and calculation were accurate. You got to your room five minutes after twelve right at the time a car entered your porch. You quickly change your dress to the one your mother has prepared and as much as you hated laces, the dress was covered wit lace. You step to the mirror, tidy your look, powder up and brush your hair.

A hurried knock echoes in your room and your mother’s voice enters your room.

“Coming, wait a second.” You yell as you struggle to put on your shoes while making sure you look flawless already.

Once the door flies open, hey your mom knows how to pick locks, you’ve already forced a smile on your face, and she doesn’t look that mad.

“Nice, you didn’t disappoint me. Now gently do down, your fiancé is waiting for you in the dining room. Remember..”

You cut her in “No loud voice, no improper language, tidy eating manner, and agree on this thing.”

She smiles proudly at you and runs a soothing hand down your arm. “Hey, everything will be alright okay.”

You exhale a long breath and with a heavy heart, walks down the stairs to meet the man of your future.

If this was not reality, you would already run down the stairs with joyful steps to reach the man of your choice, sadly this is not your own story to write.

No, your father is dying and his last wish was to see you marry the guy he has set up for you. You remember what he said last week, “Please the man I’ve set for you will be a good man to continue the business I had started. Not that I don’t believe in you taking after, but he will be a good leader. His family also owns a strong business and together, you will live a good life. Trust me darling, I want this for your happiness.”

You remember him saying that to you, one cold night beside the fireplace when he invited you for a game of chess. You belong to the noble family; you have private teachers coming in to tutor you; unlike ordinary girls who need to stay home to cook and wash laundries. Chess is your dad’s favourite game and he always teaches you how to advance the game. Your heart tugs a little when his weak state flashes in your mind.

The last chess you played with him was that same time he proposed to you this whole arranged marriage idea.

You reach the last step of stairs and see the new family seated elegantly on the big table. Your father despite his weak state, still manages to look handsome. You spot the empty seat next to a tall man with strong face lines and a cold smile. He looks smart, strong, but lacks warmth and love. Your face shows a pretty smile, but deep inside your heart you’re crying as you can totally see your future won’t be different than what you have right now.

“Nice to meet you, Miss (y/n), I am Oh Sehun, your fiancé” He stands tall on his legs and after receiving your hand, he presses a light kiss on them. You greet him back and take your place beside him.

Lunch begins and all the time, you only open your mouth when direct questions are given to you. Sehun mostly takes over the questions about the wedding party, saying that he will let you choose what kind of party you want. You just nod and say you will think about it.

“Right, please make up your mind as soon as possible. The wedding will happen in 15 days and I hope we can get this over really quick.” Sehun’s father ends the talk of the wedding.

The choice of food for today was not your preferred dish. You only eat a small portion of the food and try your best to swallow this bitter lump.

Main course went well with Sehun getting engaged to business talks with your father and you were interrogated for your social life by his mother.

Luckily, your mother is there to help you lie. You’ve never really put yourself into the rich girl’s society, you’ve always lied to your mom. You lied about going to the social house, just to run away elsewhere with Baekhyun or simply attend last minute.

Strawberry panna cotta is your favourite dessert; however, today you cannot find the joy of sticking that sweet pudding into your mouth.

The suffocating tension grows thicker when you are sent to take Sehun for a walk to the festival reoccurring in the centre of the town.

Your mind is busy thinking of something, yes you remember Baekhyun is taking care of one event there. He is assigned by the Mayor to lead the talent show performance tonight. Now you remember there is no way you’ll meet him in the town with a new man by your side. He would totally rant to you for not telling him your new friend.

“Umm Sehun, can we go somewhere else instead.. I don’t think the festival is suitable for us to talk with one another. It’s loud.” You bite your lips nervously.

Sehun quirks his eyebrow, “Oh? Well then where should we go?”

His voice is icy and cold, even standing beside him sends shivers down your spine.

“We can go to the quiet hill a few miles from here, will it be okay?”

To your surprise he is okay with walking a few miles. You really think he would deny it and just ask you to talk here in the garden, but no, he didn’t waver at all.

So you begin your hike to the hill where you usually escape when your mind is not clear.

“And… this is it, the quiet place I always go when I have much in my mind.” You spin around once and smile when you close your eyes and feel the gentle breeze blowing.

Sehun takes off his mantle and lays it down for you to sit on. You looked puzzled and he chuckled at your confused face.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want that dress to be dirty.” He helps you sit over his mantle and soon joins you down on the other side.

“Sorry for making you do this.” You point at his clothes and mantel, you did not expect going to the hill will cause him much commotion.

Sehun shakes his head and begins asking you questions to know you better.

“I know you did not like this marriage, but I will try my best to be a good husband.” Sehun said that to you, but things were not as beautiful as his promise.

Baekhyun enters his house and finds his dog already waiting for him

“Ah my sweet mongryong! You’re waiting for me!” Baekhyun kneels down to pet his excited puppy just to be run over and he ends up giggling on the floor.

“Baekhyun hurry up! Your brother and father are waiting for you! Go change to a clean shirt and wash your hand. Hurry or your plate will be clean!” His mother cheerfully kisses him and pushes him to change his attire.

Baekhyun laughs at the warmth this house can never fail to give him, he runs to his room on the second floor and quickly changes for a fresh linen. Just as he glances over to the mirror, he notices a foreign car on the porch of your front house. With a confused look, he tries to remember if you told him anything about a guest or a new tutor maybe.

The cheerful boy makes it to the dining table looking clean and handsome.

“Sorry for making you gentlemen wait and my beautiful mother too. Now shall we eat?” He grabs his utensils and a hearty lunch happens right at the same time as yours (the cold and tense one).

“Looks like our neighbour has a big news coming around!” his father starts the topic for today’s lunch.

Baekhyun’s ears perk up, “Oh yeah? A party? I thought they have their birthday already.”

His brother shakes his head, “No, something else. That car is new. We never see anyone visiting her in a fancy car.”

Baekhyun still enjoys his food, “Maybe a new tutor. She told me the last French tutor moved and her mother is busy looking for a new one.”

“Maybe…” his brother leaves a lingering statement and soon their discussion changes to the perfect seasoning their mother did on the food, or just random small talks.

“I am going to the town! I need to make sure the talent show will be perfect tonight!” Baekhyun bids farewell to the family as he takes his bike and pedals all the way to the town hall.

He can’t wait to meet you tonight in the town hall!

But Baekhyun didn’t meet you at all that afternoon. Instead he found another friend of his, Park Chanyeol.

“Hey! You’re by yourself? Not usual eh?” Chanyeol nudges his shorter friend, who is busy moving things around to set up the stage.

“Oh hi there Yeollie, well yeah It’s me and the team, who else are you expecting?” Baekhyun stops bending and straightens his back.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, “I mean where is your girlfriend you always have by your side…”

Baekhyun secretly smiles but he shakes his head, “She’s not my girlfriend… we’re neighbours and yeah good friends, you miss her?”

Chanyeol awkwardly laughs, “No, I am not looking for her. Just feels weird… maybe she’s coming later. Now let me help you fix this place! We only have several hours to go!”

Baekhyun nudges off the odd feeling in his stomach. Come to think of it, you’re not the type to not come and help him. He tries to think that maybe your mother or father is acting up again.

You spend a good two hours of talking and planning with Sehun. As you feel wind more breezy and Sehun notifies you it’s almost tea time, you finally stand up from the ground and with the help of Sehun, you stretch your stiff body.

“It’s almost tea time.” Sehun says while putting on his mantle.

“Oh right… Will you join us for tea?” a question of formality.

You wish he would just reject it and go home, but no this guy accepts the offer.

You can only force another fake smile and return to the house.

“Great to see the two of you back on time for tea! We think it is a bit too late already for the Oh family to go home, so they might be staying for dinner and the night.” Your mother greets you and Sehun over the door.

Your mouth falls open and with one glare from your mother, you pull yourself back together. Before she can pull you inside the room, you quickly glance to your neighbour’s house and notice the lack of a bicycle. Hmm Baekhyun must already be in the festival.

Tea time is better since Sehun was called for a talk with your father and his. You are left alone with your mother and Sehun’s mother. The ladies engage themselves in a deep conversation of a recipe and you just sit there quietly. Pretending to listen to their fun discussion, while actually thinking how you will spend the night. There’s a very big probability that you are told to bring Sehun to the carnival and that means meeting Baekhyun. It is not a problem if you’re the only one, but coming with Sehun will be something deadly.

You’re not stupid. You know the feeling Baekhyun has for you. You know he was not 100% joking when he proposed earlier in the woods. You see how his eyes always show hearts when he is with you, you realize the protective voice he always has when you show up to him with fresh bruises. You may be over confidence, but his flirting game is a hint to you. You feel it, you too cannot lie that there’s something different you feel for him.

That night, you thank heaven for not sending you to the carnival. No, Sehun did go there, but you lie while feeling sick. Lucky, they bought your lie and let you rest at home. Sehun goes to see the town with his family, for you also learn today that he will move in here later on. This house will be for you and Sehun the day father passed. The Oh family is checking out the town and you… you’re now facing the floor while trembling in fear when your parents called you with that tone.

You enter the study room shaking. You can see what’s coming… seeing your dad seated on his big chair and a belt. The night will be long.

You earn fifteen tonight, for showing up late to the table, for not showing interest to Sehun, and for not being so lady-like or elegant.

“I thought we raised you nicely to be a lady with a class, but what’s that messy hair! I know you’re sneaking out again right?! There’s no way your hair will be like that if you take your one-hour preparation nicely.” He emotionally launches his belt to hit you. You’re standing up, tonight you did not let out a tear. Your lips are bleeding from the pressure your teeth do to ensure you’re quiet. No, you’ve run out of tears. You’re angry… not only did he force you to marry a boy you don’t know, but he was still picking on you.

“You know if the next time he comes here and you have not improved or put interest in him, you’ll meet another belt of mine. FIX YOUR MANNERS MISS. DON’T BE A DISGRACE!” He swings his last whip and leaves the room with a loud slam.

You fall to the carpet, curling yourself into a fetal position. No matter how many whippings you’ve grown up with, fresh bruise is always burning.

You lay down for a while, streaming your face with tears and as you hear the clock chimes seven, you know soon you’ll have to move to your room. The guest must never see what’s behind your dress.

You stare blankly into the wall, back facing the bright night sky shown from the window. It’s already 8.30, you hear the footsteps of people moving around the house. Great the guests must be here already. You remain silent in your room, hoping that your pain and fatigue can bring you to sleep quick. Laying down sideways to not touch the burning pain on your back and thighs.

Your eyes almost close and bring you to dreamland if not for the soft knock on your window. You peek from your shoulder and see Baekhyun’s window bright and he’s throwing you pebbles.

You did not turn on your lights, though Baekhyun can see your night lamp is still on. You feel like a jerk leaving him to work by himself tonight and not giving him any news at all.

The rock hits one to two times again and you finally turn the lights on and opens your curtain. There, you can see the brightest smile from your best friend blinding you.

Baekhyun raises a paper with a note

“SICK? YOU MISSED THE SHOW!”

You wince and try to reach for the board you’ve hidden under your bed. You open the curtain and flash your answer “GROUNDED”

That’s bullshit.

“OH? NEW CAR IS IT YOURS?” He shows you his board.

You hesitate, “A GUEST’S”

“SORRY. YOU OKAY?” he flashes his board up when he feels you’re not as quick as usual in replying.

“THE BELT’S OUT TONIGHT”

Baekhyun grits his teeth when he knows that code. He discovered your father’s bad habit of violence long time ago when you fell from a climbing tree and Baekhyun accidentally saw your scars and bruises. Since then, after you get punished, you usually run to his house and he will sneak you in and when you’re younger he would help you with healing and taking care of them. However as you mature, you only go to his house for mental support. Baekhyun used to promise he would bring you away from your violence father and he promised you to start a healthy family like his.

“We can start a healthy family! I can be a loving dad… I never hit people! I am raised to be a gentle man. I shall never raise my hand to any girl or child or anyone!” He once told you that with fires in his eyes, promising you he will get you out of that hell.

“WANNA COME OVER?” He flashes his board after thinking for a while, why did you earn whipping. Coming late to lunch must not be a big deal right? Unless…

Baekhyun shakes his head, trying to get rid of the silly idea he has in his mind.

“Is the guest so special?” he mumbles to himself.

“I DON’T THINK TONIGHT IS THE RIGHT TIME. SORRY ☹ AND THANKS” you raise your board the last time, before closing the curtains and shutting off the lights.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on your window for a longer time, he doesn’t want to miss it if you’re sneaking out. But five minutes with no action, Baekhyun gives up and closes his curtain too soullessly.

The conversation he had with Chanyeol earlier lingers in his mind.

“Hey Baek, have you ever seen that man before?” Chanyeol points to a tall figure dressed nicely in an expensive coat. Taking time to stroll from one stand to another, seeing things and trying things.

“Hmm nope. Must be a visitor! He looks so expensive right Yeol?”

“Uh-hum, who can have that kind of guest here….” Chanyeol regrets saying that part out loud, for the slightly surprised look on Baekhyun's face is enough to make Chanyeol feels guilty.

In Baekhyun's mind, suddenly flashes the expensive car parked on your house porch.

“Must be Suho’s” Chanyeol quickly covers up his mistake and pushes Baekhyun away to start the talent show.

tbc

yes or no??

#exo series #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x reader #sehun x you #sehun x reader #baekhyun angst #exo angst #exo scenarios #chanyeol fanfic #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun scenario #sehun scenario #sehun imagine #baekhyun series #sehun series

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ladyfogg · 3 years

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First Date

Fic Summary: The time has come for you and Colin to finally have your first official date. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: M

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language & some making out/suggestive language

Last week when you flirted with Colin and followed him to his hotel room, it had been a quick, spontaneous decision. While it hadn’t worked out quite how you wanted it to, you got your chance a few days later when he slept over at your place.

You didn’t expect to spend the following day in bed with him, nor did you expect to feel so goddamn horny for the man the second he left. Even the quickie in your car wasn’t enough. You want more of Detective Colin Zabel and it’s driving you crazy.

You’ve never wanted someone this bad before. But your stomach is a jumble of nerves for an entirely different reason. Because tonight, you and Colin are having your first official date and you have no idea how to act.

Dating is new territory for you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in a relationship and even then it wasn’t serious. When Colin asked you to join him for dinner at his friend’s restaurant, you said yes before you could overthink. Of course, now that means your anxiety has been building.

The case Colin and Mare are working has kept them busy over the last few days so you haven’t been able to spend much time with your…friend? You don’t know what to call him. Boyfriend sounds too formal. Lover is a weird word that never settles quite right. Potential romantic partner? Booty call? Really close friend?

See, this is why you never date. It gets too confusing and messy.

At least, that’s how you used to feel. Now, you’re not so sure. Because every time Colin catches your eye and smiles at you, those old thoughts aren’t as loud as they used to be.

You keep telling yourself to relax and go with the flow, but it’s easier said than done. Which is why you find yourself running around your room trying to find something to wear.

Currently, most of your clothes are piled up on your bed. Digging through them, you reject everything you see, almost to the point of tears. It’s not until you sit yourself down and take a few deep breaths that you realize just how nervous you are.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself. “It’s Colin. You know him. You like him. And he likes you. He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met and he’s not going to care what you wear as long as you have a great time.”

Bullshit. Dress to impress. Knock him dead. Take the beath out of him.

After several long minutes of internal debate, you manage to find something relatively dressy that fits and looks good on you. Shoving all your clothes back in the closet, you try to make your room mostly presentable on the off chance you and Colin end up back there after dinner. You’d like to assume you will but are trying not to put any pressure on him or yourself.

You just finish getting ready when there’s a knock on the door. Checking yourself over in the mirror one last time, you take a deep breath, before going to greet Colin.

Dear GOD, he looks amazing. While Colin tends to dress very well for work, it’s different seeing him in a suit jacket and tie.

“You look beautiful,” he says, eyes taking you in with appreciation. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yup. Just lead the way.”

Colin offers you his arm in an endearingly formal way and you can help but accept, letting him lead you to his car. The sweet man even opens the door for you. With a quiet word of thanks, you climb in, your heart fluttering with nervous energy.

As he drives away, you sense the nervous tension between you two.

“So…” Colin says. “I know I suggested my friend’s restaurant but if you’d rather go somewhere else that’s good too.”

“No, no, your friend’s place is fine.”

Colin nods, flipping on the radio to help fill the awkward silence. You don’t know what to do with your hands and find yourself fidgeting with your coat, seatbelt, purse, and whatever you can.

“How was your afternoon?” Colin asks. “You were gone by the time we got back from canvasing…”

“It was fine. Made some coffee runs and filed a bunch of stuff.”

“Cool...”

More silence. As Colin pulls into a parking space at the restaurant, you feel the need to clear the air.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good company tonight,” you say. “The truth is, I’m really nervous.”

Colin smiles and puts the car in park. “Honestly, me too.”

You both laugh, partly from relief and partly by amusement. “Look, I don’t have any expectations,” Colin continues. “I asked you out because I really like you and I’ve never connected with someone like I’ve connected with you.”

“We have connected very well,” you tease.

Colin’s cheeks turn red and he ducks his head as he tries to hide his smile. “I meant emotionally but yeah, physically too.”

“I also meant emotionally,” you say. “Mostly.”

He laughs and looks at you again. “I’m really happy to hear you say that. Glad it’s not all in my head.”

Hearing the self-deprecation in his voice, you slide your hand into his hair and pull him into a kiss. He responds instantly, melting into your touch and kissing back with equal intensity. When he draws back, his eyes are hooded.

“It’s not all in your head,” you assure him. “There is something here. Why wouldn’t I feel something for you? You’re smart, considerate, fucking adorable as hell…” He smiles and blushes harder. “You’re a great guy, Colin.”

He kisses you gently one more time. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I do,” you tease. “Now can we go eat?”

“Absolutely.”

Feeling lighter and less nervous, the two of you get out of the car. Colin takes your hand as he meets you on your side of the car. Heading inside, you can’t help but focus on the feeling of his hand in yours. It was solid and warm, just like the rest of him.

You’re seated right away and Colin let’s your hand go so he can hold your chair our for you. The atmosphere is calm and quiet, the low lighting set the right mood. Colin looks even more dashing than he did on your front porch.

The waiter takes your drink orders and you pick up your menu, trying to figure out what to have. Colin does the same.

“This is a nice place,” you comment, glancing around. “I’m not used to going out like this.”

“Stick with me and I’ll take you to all the nice places.”

“What? The backseat of my car isn’t nice enough?”

His ears turn red this time and he chuckles. “I didn’t say that. It has its merits.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks and takes your orders, before leaving once more.

“So, Detective Colin Zabel,” you say, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like Easttown?”

He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I’m no big shot,” he says shaking his head. “I’m just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

“It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” you realize. “Talking about that big case.”

“Can we not talk about that case?” he asks. “I’m not…I’d rather talk about something else.”

“No problem. Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s okay. What about you? I never asked what it was like for you starting out. You know, after the academy.”

He seems relieved that you are willing drop the subject and as the conversation starts to flow, both of you get more comfortable. Wanting to take his mind off things, you decide to tell him about your more memorable moments as a young trainee.

“Oh, and THEN! Then Mare arrives right as I’m trying to detain this guy,” you say, hands moving wildly as you talk. “And she just gives me that stern, unamused look that she always has…”

“Yup, I know that look.”

“And when I finally get him into the back of the car she goes, ‘Hey, kid, I think you’re forgetting something’.”

“Oh god, no…”

“Yeah, the guy’s dog. He came tearing out of the house and I chased me around the car while Mare just fucking laughed.”

Colin throws his head back and laughs, a sight that makes your own grin widen. You’ve never seen him so jovial, well without alcohol, and you vow to think of more stories that’ll make him laugh that hard.

“Didn’t you go there because of the reports of his dog being loud and aggressive?”

“Sure did. Then promptly forgot when I noticed the stolen merchandise from the theft. Needless to say, I got a little too excited and, whelp, got chased by the dog.”

Colin is still laughing, shaking his head while he does. “Wow. Just…just wow.”

“I am so glad you enjoyed my embarrassment.”

“I absolutely did.”

His face is bright and you want to reach across the table and kiss him.

You wonder why you were even nervous to begin with. Once the food arrives, Colin lifts his wine in a toast. You follow his lead with your drink and you both smile as you clink glasses.

“Any particular plans after dinner?” you ask as you both start to eat.

Colin shakes his head. “Not in particular. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a soft bed that’s been missing you.”

His pupils dilate and you see his breathing pick up. “I…yeah, that sounds great. I kind of hoped you’d say that but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

Under the table, you run the tip of your shoe up the back of his calf and he jumps in surprise, almost dropping his fork. You smirk as he gets flustered.

“You have my complete permission to assume all you’d like,” you say in a low voice.

The evening takes on a very different energy after that. Heated looks are exchanged as you both eat as quickly as you can while still being polite.

“Are we thinking dessert?” the waiters asks when he gathers your empty plates.

You shoot Colin a raised eyebrow.

“I think just the check will be fine,” Colin says.

The drive back to your place is different than the drive to the restaurant had been. Colin’s hand rests on your knee, and just the pressure of it is enough to get your body going.

He barely puts the car in park before you reach for him, yanking him into a searing kiss. Colin is just as eager, hands fumbling to turn off the car before he can get them on you.

“We should go inside,” he pants between kisses.

“Yes, please.”

You stop just long enough to get out of the car. Coming around to the front, you both meet in the middle, Colin cupping your cheek while snaking his arm around your waist. God the way his mouth slots over yours is just so perfect.

The ringing of his cellphone cuts through the quiet night.

You groan in frustration. “Noooooo.,” you whine.

Colin huffs in annoyance, pulling back. “I’m so sorry,” he says taking the phone out of his pocket. “Shit, it’s Mare. I should take this.”

Sighing but understanding, you motion for him to go ahead.

Colin answers the phone. “Zabel, here. Yeah, hey, Mare…”

You know work has interrupted your date and you probably won’t be getting to the best part anytime soon. Colin’s face is somber as he listens to his partner.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says, giving you an apologetic look. “Bye.”

He hangs up.

“Duty calls?” you ask.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “She wants me to meet her in an hour. There’s a club we need to check out.”

“An hour, huh?” you ask, lips curling into a smile.

“Yeah. It’s across town so it’s going to take me a—what are you doing?”

You push him so his back bumps into the hood of the car. “You have plenty of time to get there. I want to at least make out a little.”

Colin gives you that lopsided smile before pulling you into another heated kiss. You slide your arms around his neck as his go around your waist, crushing you against his chest. It’s filled with promises and silent wants. Neither of you wants him to go, both of you would love to go inside and pick up where you left off the other day.

But work is work, and you won’t make him feel guilty for doing his job.

Your tongue finds his, deepening the kiss as your fingers dig into the collar of his coat. Colin draws back just enough for his nose to brush yours as he lays several pecks on your lips.

“If I’m not done too late, can I come back?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

“You better.”

His smile widens and he gives you one final, sweeping kiss before gently pushing you back so he’s not pressed against the car.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Colin watches you walk up to your door but doesn’t get into his car until you’re safely inside. You wave to him from the door, hoping he’ll come back sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you are going to find the sexiest underwear you own and wait.

---

Series Taglist: @lejardinfleur @spidergirlmcu @anonymushhy @samsassinparvismagna @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @xmaximoffic @marshmallow--3 @stellarbound @kais-messiahbaby @margaretboothsear @slightlyvicked @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @liandav @billyhxrgrove @TheOriginalDoll87

#colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #evan peters #love exists

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 54

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,305

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Allies and Foes

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the cooled sheets and pillow telling you that Negan had been gone for a while. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost 9am, and you lazily stretched underneath the red satin, enjoying the ability to sleep in.

You vaguely remembered Negan waking you up with a kiss to the neck earlier, when it was still mostly dark in the room. He had murmured something about a meeting with his Saviors, and you had responded by turning over and grumbling for him to let you go back to sleep. The last thing you remembered was his low chuckle, and then you were out again.

Reluctantly rolling out of the ridiculously luxuriant bed (seriously, where did he find such a soft mattress during the apocalypse?!), you started getting dressed. Unfortunately, you only had the outfit from yesterday, which wasn’t the cleanest after being out in the woods, but it would have to do until you returned to your own room.

The intrusive thought hit that maybe you could leave a few items of clothing here, so that you had more morning-after options for next time. You quickly dashed the thought, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Sure, you had now spent the past three nights in a row with Negan, and two of those nights had been in his bed, but that didn’t seem like long enough to start moving in items. Just the thought of Negan doing something so domestic as allowing you to start taking over his armoire and bathroom drawers made you chuckle at the ridiculousness of it.

Though, doing so would mean more events like last night could easily occur, since you wouldn’t have to keep running back to your room for more clothes or other belongings. Your mind flashed to the shower, and what the two of you had done in it the previous evening. How you had gone to your knees and proceeded to blow both his cock and his mind. He had been particularly vocal, his sharp grunts and loud moans echoing off the tiles as he ran shaky fingers through your hair and made you feel like the most seductive woman on the planet.

Still smiling at the memory, you finished zipping up the boots, grabbed Ricardo, and headed out of the bedroom and across his office to the door. Creaking it open a few inches, you peeked down the hall. Seeing that it was clear, you quietly exited the room, shut the door behind you, and speed-walked down the halls and to the stairwell needed to get back to your room. Letting out a little puff of relief when you made it to your own floor, you slowed down the pace a bit, no longer needing to scurry like a roach caught in the kitchen when the lights turned on. Honestly, the fact that you had yet to run into a Savior or wife while making the morning-after trek to and from Negan’s room was really damn lucky and-

“Hey!”

The sound of a voice just as your hand was reaching out for the door knob to your room caused you to jump about a foot in the air. Whirling around, you saw none other than Maria at the opposite end of the hall, waving her hand in greeting as she came towards you.

Crap. Couldn’t the universe have at least let you put on clean underwear first?

Much as you didn’t want to interact with someone at the moment, you couldn’t help but recall the last time Maria had tried to speak with you, in this very hall. It had been after Negan confronted you about the pregnancy test, and you had completely ignored her and rushed past without a word. At the time you had been too emotional to care, but now you knew that she was owed an apology, not to mention the fact that you hadn’t really chatted or hung out with her since the night out at the picnic table. Doing the mental math, you realized that late night conversation had to have been a little over two weeks ago. Yea, you had been a shit friend to Maria lately, and it was totally deserved karma to have her pop up when you weren’t really prepared for social interaction. Well, you would just have to get over it. She didn’t deserve to keep being pushed aside, and you wouldn’t do so to her again.

Pasting on a grin, you opened the door and gestured for her to come inside. She preceded you into the room and settled on the rickety little bed. You tried to nonchalantly lean Ricardo against the wall, in hopes she wouldn’t ask why you were walking around with a weapon so early in the morning. Thankfully, she seemed too busy scanning the meager surroundings to notice. It had been a while since she was in your space, and you tried to take in the tiny room from her perspective, wondering if she found it lacking. You weren’t sure what the wives’ rooms looked like, since apparently Negan wasn’t keen on them having visitors up there, but if it was anything like the fancy clothes they wore then it was sure to be much nicer than your own room.

Just thinking about them made a lump of discomfort form in your stomach. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten about the fact that the man you were developing feelings for had a harem of women he called his wives, but it had been a lot easier to push them to the back of your mind when one wasn’t sitting in front of you.

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, especially when you both were smart enough to know it was a shallow distraction, you dove right in.

“I want to apologize for the other day, when I ignored you. That was shitty of me, and I’m sorry.”

She gave a tiny smile, and you immediately knew that she wasn’t mad. Of course she wasn’t. This was Maria, and she was one of the most forgiving and patient people you had known since the apocalypse began. The fact that she was still willing to even deal with your fickle ass, especially after your last couple of interactions, was proof enough of that.

“It’s alright,” she replied. “You looked pretty frazzled anyways. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know about everything, but things are alright,” you mumbled, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear the words.

You started picking at a stray thread on the grey cotton sheets, unable to help but compare them to the luxury of Negan’s satiny red ones. Ugh, why didn’t you just stay in his bed all morning, instead. You could’ve enjoyed physical comfort and social isolation there.

Able to feel the weight of Maria’s gaze, you lifted your head to look at her. As expected, she was watching you closely, the slightest ghost of a smile tipping one corner of her mouth. “What?” you asked, not rudely, but perhaps a bit impatiently. She looked like she knew a secret that you didn’t, and you wanted her to just spit it out already.

“You spent the night with him,” she stated in a gentle tone, and when you jerked in surprise and opened your mouth to say....well, you had no clue what you were going to say, but thankfully she cut you off. “Which means,” she continued with a raised palm, a silent gesture for you to not get defensive just yet, “that considering how negatively you viewed his multiple wives situation, you must also know he stopped sleeping with them.”

Mouth still hanging open, you stared her down for a few seconds before snapping it shut. Making a “go on” gesture with your hand, you waited for her to continue with wherever it was she wanted this conversation to lead.

She then told you how she had suspected for a while now that the reason why Negan stopped coming to see the wives was due to his interactions with you. Her theory had been confirmed after your late night chat out at the picnic table when you admitted to being in his bedroom, somewhere none of the wives had been allowed to enter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, clutching the bedsheet so tightly your fingers were about to go numb.

“Honestly? Because you weren’t ready to hear the truth, and I knew you’d have completely shut down at the very thought of it. You still wanted to see him as a monster, so I figured I’d just wait and see how things played out. See if he’d keep allowing you to get close to him, or if one of you would get spooked and run, so to speak.”

You mulled this over. Was she right? If she had told you a couple weeks ago that he had suddenly stopped sleeping with all of the wives, would you have believed it? Doubtful. And even if you had, never in a million years would you have listened to her theory that his drastic change in behavior was because of the few interactions he’d had with you up until that point.

Much as you hated to admit, Maria had been right to keep quiet about it. Though you did wonder how she thought you had found out. Did she assume Negan had told you? Or maybe she was aware of how Amber had been using Trixie, and had come to the correct conclusion on her own. Maria was intelligent, so there was a good chance she knew more about the goings on around here than people gave her credit for. You wanted to ask how much she knew, but also didn’t want to risk outing Trixie, since she had told you that information in strict confidence.

Instead, you asked, “So now that you think I am ready to hear the truth, is there anything else I should know? Are the others coming up with a plan of how to quietly dispose of me, so that Negan will pay attention to them again?”

You said it jokingly, but were honestly curious to know how they felt about these recent changes. Amber obviously wasn’t your biggest fan, but what about the others? Did they see you as a threat to the luxuries they enjoyed here? Honestly, if the roles were switched, and they were the ones threatening whatever you had going on with Negan, you’d be tempted to sharpen mini-Ricardo shanks and take them out one by one. Your subconscious whole-heartedly agreed, giving a battle cry and stabbing at the air, as if taking out imaginary opponents, while your brain sighed and rolled its eyes.

“Well actually, we did recently have a group conversation about you.”

She said this calmly, but it still made your eyes go wide as you exclaimed, “You what?”

“It was a few days ago. Amber had been throwing a real tantrum after she tried to take Negan a dinner tray, and found him already in his office eating with you.”

Oh yea, you remembered that event, vividly. It had been about a week ago, before his last supply run. It was the evening he had confessed to you about his dead wife, and then Amber interrupted by knocking on the door with a tray. It had been apparent she wasn’t happy to see you there, nor to be sent away by Negan, so you weren’t surprised to hear she hadn’t handled it well afterwards.

Nodding for her to go on, Maria continued. “We let her vent about it for a couple days, since I think we were all hoping she’d eventually let it go the way she does most things that get under her skin. But she was like a dog with a bone this time, and kept running her mouth to all of us about how you were stealing Negan from us, and that if we continued to just sit back and let this happen, we were putting our status here in jeopardy.”

Sweat broke out on the back of your neck at the possibilities of where this story could be going. Just the thought of the wives sitting around talking about you as a potential threat or enemy made your stomach flop, but you stayed quiet and let Maria finish.

“She was really trying to get the rest of us riled up, and then one evening she started telling us all that we better be prepared to start scrubbing toilets for points, since we were willing to just let him toss us to the curb. That was when Sherry finally stepped in and put her foot down.”

“Wait, Sherry?!” you blurted, absolutely shook at this turn of events.

Maria nodded. “Yep. She told Amber that all she was doing was starting unnecessary drama, and that Negan had never given any indication that we would lose our privileges or have to start working for points just because he isn’t fucking us every night. Amber tried to argue at first, but Sherry held her ground. Told her that she’d gladly go get Negan, so Amber could tell him her concerns face-to-face, rather than continuing to make assumptions behind his back. That shut her up real quick, and she stormed into her bedroom and stayed there the rest of the night. I haven’t heard her say anything else about it since. She’s still sulking around a bit, but at least she’s been quiet.”

Your brain was struggling to take all this in, especially the part where Sherry had not only stood up for you, but done so against another wife. Crap, now you really felt like an asshole for being jealous and internally snarky towards her that day in the kitchen, when she took you to the medic after you cut your finger.

“Do you actually think she’ll let it go now?” You had a feeling that you already knew the answer, but couldn’t help asking.

Maria sighed. “I can’t say for sure, but Amber doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is okay with not being doted on. I don’t think she has any particularly strong feelings towards Negan, but she enjoys the status of being a wife. It can be a bit of a power trip, to catch the attention of a man like him, even if for shallow reasons.”

“Yea, don’t I know it,” you mumbled under your breath.

Maria raised an eyebrow, having obviously heard. “I don’t think I’d classify his attention towards you as shallow.”

Giving a huffed laugh and shrug, you tried to play it off. “Yea, well, is anything about Negan easy enough to classify?”

“Probably not,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s part of what makes him so intriguing, right?”

“If by intriguing you mean confounding as hell, then sure.”

Despite your annoyed tone, you were genuinely smiling at this point. Part of you wondered if this should feel more weird than it did, talking to a woman who was Negan’s “wife”, and had most likely slept with him, about whatever it was he had going on with you.

As if reading your thoughts, Maria’s face became more serious. “I hope this doesn’t make you feel like you can’t still talk to me, or see me as a friend.”

If you were being totally honest with yourself, the whole situation didn’t make you feel 100% comfortable, but you were pretty sure that was because of the possessive part of you that wanted him all to yourself. But was that a realistic emotion to even have, with a man like him? Could you be okay with him continuing to publicly have “wives”, even if he wasn’t sleeping with them? And what if he later decided to go back to them? It’s not as if he knew that you were aware he wasn’t sleeping with them at the moment.

Mentally shoving those questions into the padlocked box with the other unanswered questions, you honestly replied, “I’m not totally sure how I feel about all of this yet, but I definitely still see you as a friend, so no worries on that front.”

“I’m glad,” Maria said with a nod. “And in case I didn’t make it obvious, no part of me will be upset if Negan decides he doesn’t want to give us the same privileges anymore. Well, so long as you promise to give me a spot in the kitchen, so I’m not stuck scrubbing toilets beside Amber.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, glad that the air had been cleared between the two of you, and that she wasn’t harboring ill feelings towards you for taking Negan’s attention away from her and the other wives. Part of you even wondered if she had spent much alone time with him, since she hadn’t been his wife for very long when he stopped sleeping with them, but some things were just better left unknown. Besides, it’s not like he slept cuddled against any of them all night afterwards, or let them in his bed...or his shower.

Your subconscious was feeling awfully smug at that thought, nose in the air as it strutted around with a superiority complex. Meanwhile, your brain was pointing at the padlocked box of questions in annoyance, a motion which the subconscious purposely ignored.

You chatted with Maria for a bit longer, the conversation much lighter and more frivolous than before. It felt good to just hang out and discuss random topics, the way you had when the two of you were surviving for weeks out in the woods together. You might’ve each taken very different paths when it came to Sanctuary life, but it was a relief to know that the connection you had formed prior to coming here surpassed those differences. You also appreciated that she didn’t push for more information about you and Negan, and didn't even mention his name again.

When she left a little while later, a glance at your watch showed that dinner prep was in about two hours. Grateful for the chunk of alone time, you finally changed into fresh clothes and propped yourself up in bed with the copy of Harry Potter. You smiled when removing the little piece of paper you had torn from your notebook as a bookmark. While this one was blank, there was a second little piece of paper that was bookmarking a place closer to the beginning of the book. This piece of paper you had marked in pencil with the letter N, and it held the spot where Negan had stopped reading yesterday morning. You had stuck it in there after he left your room, the book having been face down on your side table where he placed it when you woke up and distracted him. Hoping that he’d return to reading it, especially if you kept his place, you couldn’t help but mark his spot.

Just the thought of his possible reactions to some of the plot twists had you smiling, at the same time as a devious thought crept into your head. If you made sure to get him hooked on the first book, he’d definitely have to find copies of the other ones in the series to share with you, right? There’s no way someone can read the first book and not need to also read the rest.

Both subconscious and brain nodded in agreement at this theory before cuddling up on either side of you, so that they could also see the opened book. Diving back into the story with a contented sigh, you immersed yourself in the magical world, not planning a return to reality and all the awaiting unanswered questions until it was time to head downstairs for dinner prep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #negan fanfics #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #twd #the walking dead #ash writes #irresistible danger #the walking dead negan #twd negan #slow burn #fanfiction #fanfic #negan's thirst squad

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the-purity-pen · 4 years

Text

All My Life

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader

Rating: G (for now) Warning: None. Just a lot of pining. Word Count: 2,144 A/N: I threw this idea out like over a month ago to you all after watching the movie and you all loved it! I’ve finally finished the first part of this story! I hope you all enjoy!

“Marcus and Missy Moreno Save the World Again”

The headline dashed across the bottom of your television screen as clips of the Heroics defeating an invading robotic alien flashed on the screen. The news reporters were rambling on about the details of the attack and how the Morenos and the others had stopped the invaders.

The smile on your face as you packed your suitcase was undeniable. It was wonderful to see the next generation of Heroics take over. Especially after your own departure from the original gang. You hadn’t kept in straight contact with many of them aside from Jasmine and Alana.

They both had been texting you for the last week to ensure you were actually going to attend the reunion. You didn’t know why they were so insistent on you going but you’d absolutely be lying to say you weren’t excited to get back together and have something other than work to focus on.

Becoming a consultant for recruiting new Heroics wasn’t always a glamorous job and your deadlines for meeting quotas were constantly breathing down your neck. But knowing that you were still making an impact even if your powers were mostly underwraps and not used in a big way, was enough to make your job and your move all those years ago worth it.

Your phone buzzed as you attempted to zip the suitcase, pushing down with your entire body weight to try to slide the metal zipper. You grunted and puffed air up out of your mouth and shook your head. You should know better than to overpack but you were trying to make sure you were prepared for anything for the weekend that you’d be back home.

You took a sharp breath in and reached for your phone where it sat on your nightstand. Seeing the messages flying in from Jasmine and Alana made you laugh. They were both gushing about how Marcus looked on the newsreel and Jasmine in particular was mentioning that he was looking better with age and that if you didn’t try to snag him at the reunion that she would seize her opportunity.

“Seriously? He just uses those arms like that?”

“I swear if he comes to the reunion in that vest…”

“Can you imagine what he looks like now that he’s so stacked?”

Your fingers flew across the screen telling them both to calm down and that Marcus, the last thing you knew, was married. Alana was quick to jump in and inform you that Marcus’s wife had passed away just a few years ago. Your heart immediately sank upon reading that message. Despite the years and the way life had separated you, your heart still cared for Marcus.

You had lost your husband to infidelity but losing a significant other in the way Marcus did? Your heart panged as you texted the girls that there was absolutely no way you'd be able to "jump on that" as Jasmine had to eloquently put it. It wouldn't be right. You were just excited to see him and everyone else and catch up on life.

You finally won the fight against the zipper of your suitcase and pulled it onto the floor. You ran through your checklist one last time before deciding you were ready. You placed your carry-on on top of the suitcase and with your phone and keys in hand, you left the house and made your way to the airport.

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

“Daaaad, seriously,” Missy groaned with a grin attached to her face. The young girl got up from the edge of her father’s bed and stood in front of him by the mirror. Her small hands came up to cover her father’s larger ones as she stopped him from fidgeting with the tie.

“You look fine,” she reassured him, again. She tugged on the tie to straighten as Marcus looked down at her and sighed. For a teenage girl, Missy seemed to have her life more together than Marcus at times.

“If you say so. Doesn’t make me feel fine,” Marcus admitted to his daughter. Ever since his wife had died, Missy had become his focus and when he had to rejoin the Heroics, he did it to protect her. Everything was for her. So having a night out for just him was odd.

“What are you nervous about? That everyone is going to know that we saved the world again?” Missy laughed and Marcus cracked a grin, shaking his head softly.

“That I’ll bump into people I haven’t seen in years and they’ll think differently of me,” Marcus admitted with a sigh. Missy’s brows furrowed up at her father before her face softened. She knew what it was like to have people look at you like an outcast but there was no way her father would be looked at that way. He was a literal hero and she told him such which made him smile down and press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Love you kiddo,” Marcus sighed before finally leaving the house to make his way to the gymnasium of a building he hadn’t stepped foot in in almost two decades. The walls seemed shorter now and the hallways narrower but his feet carried him through as if he were back to being a teenager.

His eyes scanned as he saw the locker that he had called home for all four years. And a few steps later, he saw your corner locker and his heart stopped for a second. He wondered if you were going to make it to the reunion. He hadn’t thought too deeply about you in a few years because he was still grieving his wife but now that he was here, you were consuming his thoughts.

As he walked into the decorated and rainbow-lit gymnasium, all conversations started to fade away as everyone looked to him with bright smiles. Jasmine looked over your shoulder towards the entrance and her eyes widened. She tapped your arm and nudged her chin in his direction, making you turn.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest seeing him. A black suit with a black tie and his black frames all pulled the look together nicely. You guessed Missy probably had a hand in helping him pick out his outfits. The girl was notorious for helping her father with simple things and it didn’t surprise you.

You watched as Steven, better known as Miracle Guy, came over to clap Marcus on the shoulder while shaking his hand with the other. Last you knew Steven didn’t like Marcus but perhaps he was putting on a show since there were phones and cameras everywhere. You scoffed quietly to yourself as a reminder that some people really don’t change.

Some minutes later, Alana nudged her elbow into your side. “Marcus is alone at the drink table. Go say hi,” she punctuated the last word with another nudge and you made a pout at her. “But I have a full-” you started but Alana quickly swiped your cup and downed the rest of your punch. You narrowed your eyes at her and she just gave a giddy, toothy smile, holding your now empty cup out to you before mouthing the word Go.

You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily as you took the cup from her and turned around but not before sticking your tongue out at her. You walked a bit slowly, nervous to even strike up a conversation with your ex-high school boyfriend turned superhero of the world.

You stepped up the punchbowl just as Marcus was about to reach for it and bumped his arm. “Oh! Sorry!” you exclaimed with a light chuckle and he turned to see who had bumped him and felt a huge lump form in his throat.

Your name came from him like a soft whisper and you felt your face soften looking at him. “Hi Marcus,” you said softly, almost in a soft whisper that echoed the way he had said your name. “Or should I say Mr. Superhero of the World?” you gave a soft chuckle and he echoed it with a soft guffaw of his own. The two of you stood there for a minute, just studying each other’s faces with goofy grins attached to your lips.

Suddenly the music dimmed and a tap of a live microphone came over the speakers. “Attention everyone! Okay, okay! Come closer okay?” the class president, Rachelle Hawkins, spoke into the microphone. You and Marcus turned your attention to the stage at the same time. Most of the crowd started moving closer to the stage but you stayed back with Marcus by the food table.

“First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who could make it tonight,” she said in her overly fake happy tone that she used to use as a cheerleader. You rolled your eyes slightly and Marcus looked over and chuckled at your response. He remembered how much you and Rachelle didn’t get along. You weren’t exactly enemies but her power during school years seemed to have just been racking up the count on how many boys would lose their virginity to her.

Marcus leaned over to speak into your ear with both of your heads still facing the stage. “Good to see she hasn’t changed huh?” he whispered which made you snicker. You both were already falling back into comfort after so many years apart. It only made sense since you had dated for all four years of high school and were friends first.

“Let’s start the night off with a dance from our senior year prom king and queen!” Rachelle exclaimed and held her hand out to point in your and Marcus’s direction. Everyone turned to face you both as Rachelle called out both your names and a bright light then shown on you. You tried to shield your eyes from the blinding spotlight as you looked to Marcus.

In the distance you heard Jasmine and Alana whooping and hollering in celebration which prompted everyone else to start clapping and cheering the two of you on. Marcus looked at you and placed his plate down on the long table. You followed suit to place your still empty cup down next to his plate. You swallowed a large lump that had formed in your throat before Marcus was holding out his arm for you to loop yours through.

You did so and he led you out to the middle of the floor. The light finally faded and you could clearly see Marcus’ face. His eyes were scanning the crowd before jumping back to you. You took a deep breath and reached up to put your left hand onto his shoulder. He placed his right arm on your hip and reached with his left hand to grab your right and hold it. He intertwined your fingers and you felt your heart nearly leap from your chest.

He pulled you closer slowly so your bodies were right next to each other as the song started playing. “All My Life” by KC and Jojo came over the speakers and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Marcus swayed you to the beat. He was smiling too knowing why this song was picked. It was the same song that was played during your dance after being chosen as king and queen.

Your laughter caused you to lean into Marcus’s chest for a minute to catch your breath and his heart started to race a mile a minute. Your heart was starting to match his rhythm and when you stood up straight up again, you found yourself just looking into his eyes. The feel of his body pressed against you, the heat of his arm that was now wrapped around your lower back all accumulated to you immediately feeling smitten by him once more.

Your eyes flickered around his face slowly, landing on his lips before looking back into his eyes. But before you knew it, Rachelle’s voice was coming back through the speakers, loud and clear over the music. “Aw look at them folks! It’s like nothing has changed! How sweet!” she cooed and the entire crowd followed suit. You rolled your eyes and Marcus gave a tight lipped grin in response.

He finally pulled back from you when Rachelle started to list off the night’s events and the song faded into the night. Your heart was beating so hard you were starting to breathe heavier. Marcus walked back over to the food table to gather up his plate and you followed him just a step behind. You picked up your cup and without a word to Marcus, started to refill it with punch.

“I’ll um, I’ll see you later?” Marcus asked rather than said and you looked up at him with a wry smile and slow nod.

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lexosaurus · 4 years

Text

Pink Astronaut

This is my secret santa gift for Anectoplasm on discord! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Danny/Paulina Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4549 Summary: To Paulina's dismay, she and Danny Fenton must work together on their English final project.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

---

It was Lancer’s fault, really.

He assigned the class a partner-project for their final presentation, but being the annoying teacher he was, he had decided it was imperative that the students were assigned to pairs of his choosing. Aka, no working with friends.

Paulina tried her best. Truly, she did. She batted her eyelashes and put on her most polite tone when she said, “Pretty please with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top, can I work with Star instead of Loser Fenton?”

But, to her utter dismay, Mr. Lancer was a brick wall. No amount of wit nor charm could change his rubric, and so Paulina relented in a very much not dramatic final sigh as she resigned herself to be Danny Fenton’s English partner for the coming weeks.

Fenton was...well, he was weird. His parents hunted ghosts, he always slept through class, he was clumsy, and Paulina knew that in middle school Fenton was just like all the other boys who saw her as nothing more than a pretty face.

And that annoyed her to her core. She was a human, damn it! She had her own wishes and dreams and goals in life. Although she wasn’t vocal about it, she wanted to be a journalist when she was older. The kind that made it to shows like 60 Minutes, reporting on amazing stories from all around the world. She wanted to travel, she wanted to meet people, and she wanted to be the best at it.

She was still a long way off from that now though. First, she needed to survive through this stupid English project with that weird nerd who had gone through a not-so-secret crush on her before.

Though, when she looked his way now, Fenton didn’t look all too thrilled to be partnered with her either.

She would have called it odd, but that had been their dynamic for a little over a year now. She guessed that Fenton finally got the hint and dropped his love struck puppy act. Maybe he and Sam had finally confessed their undying love to each other.

It was probably for the best.

Fenton made no move towards her, instead choosing to stare dully into his notebook.

Paulina rolled her eyes and slid from her chair. She strode over to his desk, throwing a hand on her waist and looking down at him with an expression she knew would yield no arguments. “Alright, my house or yours?”

“Huh?” Fenton said, recognizing a little too late that she was there.

“For the project? The one we were just assigned? Hello, Earth to Commander Fenton! My house or yours today?”

“Today?” Fenton blinked. “You wanna start today?”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Why, got something better to do?”

“Well—it’s just—”

“I’ll come over at four. I’ll be at cheer practice till then. If you want anything from Starbucks, just text me before then. I know Manson has my number, you can get it from her.”

She left him sitting dumbly in his chair. No one was getting in the way of her and that A, especially not some nerd who couldn’t even bother to care about school.

But, to Paulina’s surprise, Fenton actually opened the door for her when she showed up to his house that afternoon. Half of her expected him to blow her off, just ghost her and leave her to do all the work. And yet, he brought her into his kitchen, got out his notebook, and got right to work.

It was unnerving to see him so studious. She remembered Fenton as a nerd in middle school, but everyone knew about the absolute nose-dive his grades took once he got to high school. It wasn’t exactly a secret, what with him skipping class every other day.

The duo parted ways with a promise to meet up again over the weekend. Again, to Paulina’s pleasant surprise, he actually texted her to confirm their plans. And when Paulina stepped into the Starbucks that Saturday afternoon, Danny was already sitting at a table waiting for her, his notebook out and the project rubric between his fingers.

This much good luck was sure to run out, but Paulina just hoped that Fenton could last another few weeks before he inevitably dropped the ball.

Except, that never happened. Each time they set up plans to work on their presentation, Fenton would show up, he would focus on the work, and they’d part ways with plans to reconvene later. It was uncanny. It was so unlike everything Paulina had come to know of Fenton through these months.

And Paulina wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was who Fenton really was.

Under all those disciplinary actions, the dropped beakers, the tardies, the unfinished assignments and failed grades, if this was hidden underneath.

So then that begged the question: why didn’t he show this side of himself more? Why was he failing if he was clearly capable of doing the work?

And so Paulina sat there, just a week before they were set to give their presentation, scrutinizing Fenton’s features as he recited a passage from the book they were analyzing. She noted the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the way his face seemed to tighten every time he coughed.

He had arrived a few minutes late that day, and she remembered how he entered the classroom, his gate just a little too stiff to be natural.

Someone had hurt Fenton, Paulina realized. Someone had beat him up.

For reasons she didn’t know, hot anger flashed over her. Someone beat up Danny, a kid who was clumsy and could be a bit slow on the uptake, but someone who Paulina had come to understand was a rather kind and gentle classmate.

Yet someone didn’t care.

So the next day, maybe she stormed up to Dash a little too aggressively to demand, “What the hell did you do to Fenton?”

There was Dash, right on queue with his cocky laugh and a, “That nerd had it coming to him!”

“Are you kidding me?” Paulina yelled. “A week before our English final presentation and you punch Fenton across the face? Are you stupid?”

Dash’s smile dropped instantly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Paulina, I didn’t—”

“You know how much this class matters to me, Dash! You know I wanna move up to honors next year! I can’t do that if you’re giving my English partner a goddamn concussion while we’re preparing to present!”

“Paulina!” Dash grabbed her arm.

“No!” Paulina ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me, and don’t fucking sabotage—”

“I didn’t beat Fenton up!” Dash shouted.

Paulina’s eyes narrowed.

Dash held his hands up in a surrender. “I swear I didn’t beat him up. Ask Kwan if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I haven’t touched him in months. The—the coach told me that if I did well in school this year, I’d probably get recruited to college. I didn’t want to risk Fenton messing that up. I swear!”

Paulina stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to crack. But Dash’s panicked face held.

“Whatever.” She whipped around. “Tell your stupid friends to keep their hands off my project partner.”

“Consider it done!”

Paulina stormed off, ignoring the wide stares from her peers and the whispers of, “Did she just defend Fenton?”

She tried to block them out. They weren’t important. Her grades were important, her future was important, but those idiots? No, they meant nothing to her.

That afternoon, Danny was early. He was sitting there in the empty classroom when Paulina walked in, his head down to his paper, and didn’t even look up when Paulina gave her cheerful, “Hello!”

Well...that was weird. Sure, a few weeks ago, Danny mostly ignored her cheerful greetings in favor of getting ahead on the project, but Paulina liked to think that a mutual respect, or—god forbid—a friendship had been forming between the duo.

“Oof, cold shoulder? So not your speed, Danny,” Paulina said, plopping down to her seat.

Danny tensed, “I...uh, sorry. I’m tired.”

“Sheesh, alright.” Paulina slid her notebook out. “So we were working on the symbolism slide of the powerpoint, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny passed his notebook over to her. “I started parsing through the book at lunch today and found some good passages. Take a look.”

Paulina went to study the paper, but something else caught her eye.

Something on his arm.

Something that looked like a burn.

“Danny?” Paulina stared wide-eyed at the space of molten skin between his sleeve and hand. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I—” Danny slipped his arm under the desk. “I, uh, sorry. You see—”

“Whoa!” Paulina only caught a glance of his face before he ducked down again, but that split-second was enough. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paulina saw red. “Oh, that idiot! I’m gonna kill him!”

Danny looked up, the multicolored patchwork of skin on his face finally fully visible to Paulina. “Kill who?”

“Oh, look at you! That asshole!”

Fenton winced. “Am I...am I missing something here?”

“I’m gonna kill Dash!”

“...Dash?”

“I told him this morning to keep his hands off you! I made that asshole promise to me, and I told him to pass the message along to his stupid friends too!”

Something in Danny’s expression softened. “You told off Dash?”

“Well of course I did!” Paulina said hotily. “You’re my project partner! What kind of person would I be if I let you get hurt?”

“Oh well…” A smile quirked on Danny’s lips. “Thanks for that, but it wasn’t Dash.”

“Well then who was it? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You’re right, death would be too generous. I’ll just destroy their reputation instead!”

A bemused look overtook Danny’s face. “Yeah, I have no doubt you would.”

“Tell me right now, Fenton. Tell me who did this and I’ll make them pay. You won’t have to worry about them ever again once I’m finished with them.”

“Oh, I…” The smile fell from Danny’s lips. “It wasn’t anyone. I just...fell.”

“You what?” Paulina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know how clumsy I am.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He laughed awkwardly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just—you know. I was walking in the hall, fell down some stairs, hit the stair rail at the bottom. Just typical weirdo Fenton stuff! Nothing you need to destroy anyone over.”

“Don’t play with me. You didn’t fall.”

“I did fall though! It was...yeah, you know how it is. I was walking and talking at the same time and just slipped and fell! Ah, stupid Fenton, am I right? Just always...falling.”

Paulina’s glare was hollow. “How dumb do you think I am, Danny?”

Danny froze, his rambling stuttering off into a tense silence. “What?”

“I said—” Paulina rose from her chair. “—just how dumb do you think I am?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I think we may have gotten on the wrong topic here.”

“No!” Paulina slammed her hand down on Fenton’s notebook. “This little tirade? This sham you’ve been pulling for the past two years? It’s bullshit, Danny, and you know it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do know! You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Paulina hissed. “We’ve been working together for weeks now, and you think you can just sit here and say you fell? To me?”

“Well, sue me, Paulina!” Danny snapped. “Why do you even care, anyways? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Because you’re my project partner! Your grade is my grade, idiot!”

“Gee, I’m glad you only care about people when it affects your grade.” Danny shoved his notebook into his bag. “What an amazing quality to have.”

Paulina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s not true!”

Danny ignored her reaction, instead choosing to angrily zip up his backpack. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend’s been beating me up since we were five. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to care now, but if you want something to be mad at, maybe try being mad at the years of shit I’ve taken from you and your friends.”

Paulina stood there seething as Danny pushed past her and stocked off into the hallway, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

There was the Fenton she’d come to know in high school, this was the Fenton she remembered. The one who avoided questions, who put himself down to avoid suspicion, who left in the middle of class without saying anything, who no one could rely on.

But, perhaps more now than ever, Paulina could see just how much of a sham this whole act was.

Just how much he was using this face to protect himself.

But from what? From who?

Paulina tried not to dwell too much on the bruises, especially since they were gone the next day and didn’t reappear for the rest of the week. Of course, Dash swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Fenton’s appearance, and Paulina believed him. Dash could be a bit bullheaded, but he was still one of her closest friends.

For the remaining week they had to put their presentation together, Danny kept to himself, and so did Paulina. Whatever semblance of a friendship they’d built had disintegrated, and both parties seemed content to let it fall.

It made sense, logically speaking. Paulina was popular, Fenton wasn’t. Paulina was an extrovert, Fenton was an introvert. Paulina thrived in attention, Fenton shied away from it. They were like oil and water, a friendship just wasn’t possible.

The presentation day came, and the two spoke with confidence that could only have come from weeks of preparation. Paulina couldn’t help but glow under Mr. Lancer’s impressed nod. Their high marks from the project were enough to fulfill Paulina’s recommendation to the honors English course for the next fall.

And then the school year came to a close and finally, after months of hard work, they could finally relax.

But not before they celebrated first.

One of Dash’s good friends, Dale, had taken it upon himself to host the massive end of the school year party for the rising junior class at Casper High that year. His parents, being the weird sort of chill parents they were, offered up their lake house with the promise that there would be no drinking and driving.

The teens were ecstatic.

Everyone—everyone—went to the party. Jocks, nerds, band geeks, theatre kids, every clique was represented at the lake house. And why wouldn’t they come? It was the end of the school year celebration! A time to rejoice in having survived another round of homework, tests, quizzes, and essays.

It was also a time where Paulina was once again reminded that yes, the theatre kids could in fact go shot-to-shot with the football team.

Fenton was there with his little group, but Paulina paid them no mind. This wasn’t the time to be worried about him, nor was it the time to feel any sort of guilt at the way their budding friendship just collapsed. She had her friends, why add another?

And it was just preposterous to imply that she missed Fenton.

Because she didn’t.

And yet, when the night was drawing to a close, Paulina somehow managed to find herself down by the lake where a skinny, black haired teen was sitting alone.

She stood behind him, unsure if she wanted to initiate contact. He’d made it clear from their last argument that he still held years of resentment towards her and her friends, and Paulina knew from experience that all that resentment couldn’t go away in one alcohol-filled night.

She turned to walk away, but something stopped her. Before she could question what she was doing or why, she found herself sitting down on the damp grass next to him.

“What are you doing out here?” Paulina asked.

“Oh, uh, hey Paulina! Fancy seeing you here.” Danny gave her a small wave.

“You too.” Paulina stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. “Some party, right?”

“Yeah, Dale was really nice to host this.”

“He’s a great guy. His parents too.”

“I bet.” Danny said. “How are your friends holding up?”

“Well, let’s see. Star just spent a half hour trying to convince me that aliens exist, and Dale’s currently comforting Kwan who saw a video of a puppy rescue on the side of the road and started crying, so I’d say they’re holding up pretty well.”

Danny guffawed. “No way!”

“I swear!” Paulina laughed. “This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened either. I swear, every other time we drink, Kwan always ends up in a corner somewhere watching animal videos on his phone and crying at how precious the animals are and ‘please, Paulina, can’t we just adopt one?’ He’s gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Danny giggled, his laugh light and airy. Paulina watched him, amazed that they were able to just start talking again as if their fight had never happened.

“So what about you?” she asked. “What happened to your clan?”

“Sam had to drive Tucker home. He got too overconfident in pong.”

She snorted. “Dash is the same. He’s always like, ‘one more round, I’m gonna crush it this time’ and then twenty minutes later I find him asleep in a bathtub or something.”

“Dash drunk sleeping in a bathtub? Oh, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“I can assure you that photos exist.”

“The perfect blackmail.” Fenton shot her a grin. “Remind me to get one of Tucker next time he does something stupid.”

“And what makes you think you won’t be right there on the floor with him?” Paulina sassed.

“Hah! You’re probably right!” His smile fell, and he looked at her questioningly. “Hey, will your boyfriend be okay with you out here with me?”

“Oh, Dash? He’s...actually not my boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Danny jolted upright. He spun around to face her. “But I thought—”

“Yeah, everyone does. But we’re not dating.”

“Then why don’t you say something? Squash all the rumors?”

Paulina averted her gaze back onto the lake. It was a gorgeous night. Stars speckled the sky in a spectacular display, illuminating the Milky Way behind them. Amity Park was too industrious to see the galaxy, and Paulina couldn’t help but marvel at its sight.

It was gorgeous. Vast. It seemed to never end. She remembered reading somewhere that the Milky Way could only be seen if there was no moon out.

Luck must have been on her side that night.

“Unless...you don’t want to.” Danny’s voice dawned a tone of realization. “But why?”

“I got tired of it all,” she admitted, her honesty surprising herself. “Guys only wanted to talk to me because they thought if they were nice enough, I would get in their pants or something. I got accused of friendzoning more people than not. Honestly, it was so annoying. I felt everyone saw me as some stupid object. So when the rumors started going around this year that Dash and I were dating, and a lot of guys in our grade started backing off, I just...didn’t fight it. I thought maybe finally everyone would see me as a person. Maybe people would take me seriously.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know if it worked, but at least now people don’t see me as some sort of prize so much anymore.”

Danny was silent for a moment, and Paulina immediately regretted her admission. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening her lips, but she doubted Fenton of all people cared. They weren’t even friends.

One side of her wanted to get up and leave, go back to her friends inside the house, but the other side of her was too embarrassed to move.

“That makes sense, honestly,” Danny finally responded.

A wave of relief washed over her.

“And I’m sorry that there was a time where I couldn’t see past your looks too. I was young, but that’s still not an excuse.” He shifted. “I’ve had some...things happen the past year, and they’ve really taught me a lot about judging a book by its cover.”

“What kinds of things?” Paulina said, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much curiosity.

There went that hand behind his neck again. He was nervous, Paulina noted.

“Oh! Uh...it’s a long story, but I just wanted to say that I understand. I get what it feels like to be judged based on surface-level stuff. I mean, Paulina, you’re really smart. I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m really glad we ended up partners on that English project. I would have been so screwed with anyone else.”

“Thanks, Danny,” she said, trying to fight the blush that she knew was tinting her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being nosy at the end there. I didn’t mean to corner you like that. It was really stupid of me to pry when you obviously didn’t feel like talking.”

“No!” he exclaimed “No, don’t apologize! I was just being sensitive. Honestly, I knew I looked like shit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t fall obviously. I wasn’t trying to play you, I just panicked. But...I’m okay now, really.”

He looked at her, and Paulina noted how his blue eyes seemed to dance under the light of the stars. How he sat up straighter, his shoulders rolled back and head held high. How yes he was thin, but not scrawny like he was back in freshman year of high school. He seemed toned, lithe, almost like a gymnast.

Danny had definitely grown up in the past two years, but then again, so had she.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m also glad I got to be your English partner too,” she said.

They sat by the lake watching the stars until the chill of the crisp spring air began to set in Paulina’s bones. She left Danny in favor of the warm house, but not without saying, “I’ll text you sometime.”

The summer came, and the ever so slightly intoxicated promise to hang out slipped Paulina’s mind. After all, she had months of sleep to catch up on.

Fortunately for her, Danny remembered.

It was a silly text, a meme about Shakespear. Paulina responded with the appropriate emojis, and tried to convince herself that the smile she wore was due to the funny image, and had nothing to do with the boy who sent it.

And a week later, he sent another one. This time, Paulina asked to grab a coffee with him. Catch up.

To her surprise, Danny agreed. They met up at the Starbucks and what Paulina thought would only be a quick catch-up session turned into a three hour long hangout.

Despite his awkward demeanor, Danny was rather talkative. Especially when the topic revolved around space. Apparently, he wanted to work for NASA someday. He said it came from a childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, but overtime his interests shifted into rocket design and engineering. It helped that—according to Danny—his dad had built the equivalent of an ecto-rocket in his basement.

Paulina confessed that she wanted to work for 60 Minutes someday as a journalist. She dreamed of traveling around the world, collecting stories and meeting people. She explained that as a kid, she used to have to travel around the world for her dad’s work before he finally settled in Amity Park. And although she’d been living in Amity for years now, a part of her still missed those days where she was constantly exposed to new countries, languages, and cultures.

Danny listened attentively, reacting at the appropriate times and pressing for questions whenever she would trail off. Even though he had a reputation of never paying attention to teachers, he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her.

Eventually they parted ways, but they promised to hang out again.

And again they did.

And again.

Again.

There were some topics that Danny seemed to skirt around, such as why he sometimes would show up bruised, or why he seemed to struggle to stay in class despite his dreams of working for a prestigious agency like NASA.

But Paulina was willing to ignore those demons because she liked Danny, and she didn’t want to say anything that would push him away. And, despite their differences, he seemed to like her back.

Summer drifted to fall, the leaves started to turn, and soon it was too cold to hangout outside.

Which was how they found themselves here, in Danny’s room, laying on Danny’s floor watching Youtube videos, their math homework long since abandoned beside them.

It was a nerdy video, one about bizarre planets that existed in space. One that Paulina would never have watched on her own, but Danny seemed positively riveted at.

His eyes were bright and attentive, and every so often he’d point to the screen and go, “Look!” as if Paulina wasn’t watching the same video.

It was...adorable.

His excitement rivaled a child on Christmas. And as interesting as the video was to watch, Danny was even more so.

The video ended, but Paulina hardly noticed. All she could see was the grin on Danny’s lips, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the way his hair sat on his head like a soft cloud.

“So? What did you think?” Danny asked.

“Cute,” Paulina responded. “You’re cute.”

Danny blinked, his mouth turning to a little “o” shape as red tinged his cheeks. He started to stutter, to try to brush Paulina off, but she held onto his shoulder and said, “Danny, I think you’re cute.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think you’re cute too.”

Paulina closed the gap between them, closing her eyes. His lips felt soft against hers, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hands trailed up to his hair, and she curled her fingers through his soft hair.

He was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and his skin felt cool against her own. Secretly, Paulina had always loved that about Danny, the fact that his body temperature seemed to run lower than normal. And now she could cherish this all to herself.

Danny’s hand wrapped around her back, gently pressing her closer. His touch was electric, and Paulina could have melted right there. She pressed further against him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment for just a few moments longer before Danny pulled back. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

There were some things Paulina didn’t understand about Danny. There were some things he was still closed off about, things he didn’t want to speak about. And eventually, Paulina would bring those things up, she would get answers. Eventually, she would uncover all the secrets, all the layers to the enigma that made up Danny Fenton.

But right now?

Right now she was just going to enjoy the moment.

#danny phantom #pink astronaut #fluff #romance #phicc #my writing #paulina #secret santa

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mnemosyne-musing · 3 years

Text

Double date (River/11)

(So this prompt link is very tenuous and has basically turned into pwp for which I at least partially blame sonic for encouraging me. This version is rated T but the link for the slightly smuttier version is here)

“So!” the Doctor leaps up the stairs to the console and grabs the monitor, spinning around on his heel before typing rapidly into the keyboard, “I was thinking, once River arrives, maybe, a trip to the Amazzi waterfalls. They have these wonderful pools filled with algae. Only, it’s not really algae, it’s this kind of-“

“Doctor,” Rory interrupts, somewhat tentatively, “We were thinking tonight. If you don’t mind that is. That we could just stay in? Maybe have dinner and, you know, just talk to River, and you of course?”

“Yes,” Amy pipes up quickly, “Only if you don’t mind of course,”

He looks up from the console at the two of them standing by the railing. Amy folding her hands slightly nervously in front of her and Rory biting his lip anxiously.

He beams at them. “Of course!”

Amy gives a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you! It’s not that we don’t want to go anywhere, it’s just, it’s been a lot the last few weeks and we haven’t really had much of a chance to process or talk to River or-“

“Ooh, it can be like a double date!” he cuts in and claps his hands together, “We can cook dinner here. I’ve got this wonderful recipe from Escoffier. Fabulous chap. I worked in his restaurant once actually and-“

“Doctor, are you sure?”

He waves a hand at them as he types. “Pond, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It doesn’t always have to be running and excitement. I can do an evening in. Now, off you pop and get your cooking clothes on! I’ll pick up River and we’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Amy and Rory grin at each other before bounding towards the stairs and out of the console room.

“Thank you, Doctor!” Amy calls as they scarper down the corridor.

It had been just over a month since leaving River in the hospital after Berlin. They’d seen her once since then. He’d taken the Ponds to a planet with a fantastic seventeen hour meteor shower and they’d bumped into her on the viewing deck. They’d also run into a gang of high-end jewel smugglers whose presence there River swore was a complete coincidence to hers. He had his serious doubts about that but, honestly, he’d been quite distracted by all the running and excitement and then afterwards River had had to dash off very quickly. Well, not so quickly that she hadn’t grabbed him and snogged him against the door of the TARDIS but. Anyway.

He sighs and shakes his head to clear of it of those thoughts before returning to the monitor. He’s just about to pull the lever to let the TARDIS dematerialise when there’s a familiar noise of someone appearing by vortex manipulator behind him.

“Hello sweetie,”

He turns around, a grin already on his face and leans back against the console. River is standing a few feet away, wearing a dark trench coat that’s cinched in and tied at the waist, a pair of dazzlingly high blue heels on her feet that do funny things to his insides.

She begins to stalk towards him, a little bit like a predator approaching its prey.

“I thought I’d bring you a birthday present,” she practically purrs, stopping just out of arm’s reach.

He quirks an eyebrow. “But, it’s not my birthday?”

She simply smiles. A slow smirk that spreads across her face and now she really does look like she’s sizing him up for the kill. That thought really shouldn’t thrill him as much as it does he briefly ponders.

She brings a hand to the belt on her coat and slowly pulls it loose. “Care to reconsider?” she asks, her voice low and throaty as the coat falls open.

The Doctor opens his mouth but all words and possible replies immediately evaporate as he catches sight of what she’s wearing beneath the coat. Or rather, what she’s mostly not wearing beneath the coat. He hardly thinks that the plunging bra and skimpy pair of knickers, both made of flimsy lace in a deep blue colour to match her heels, really count as clothes. In fact, he can think of several planets on which that is most definitely not considered an outfit and would probably be illegal and really- hang on, why is he thinking about other planets when River is here and-

He licks his lips and swallows. “I think,” he manages to croak out, “I think it might be my birthday after all.”

River grins wickedly at him and lets the coat fall to the floor with a soft thud. She steps in towards him and grasps his shirt front, pulling him off the console and steering him backwards towards the jump seat. She pushes him down willingly into the seat and his hands automatically drift to grasp her hips, his fingers splaying across her back and stroking the soft skin there.

As she leans down to kiss him, there’s a small flicker of a thought at the back of his mind that there was something he was supposed to be doing. Something he was doing just before River arrived and-

A little while later, she levers herself off his lap as gracefully as she can before turning to look for her knickers. He watches unashamedly as she bends down to retrieve them, arse in the air and wearing nothing but those heels. She frowns down at them before shrugging, kicking her heels off and slipping her underwear back on. Turning back towards him she leans down and nabs his shirt, slipping it on before he can protest and carelessly doing up less than half the buttons.

She looks so utterly delectable, all beautifully dishevelled and ravished that he reaches for her again but she dances out of his reach.

“River!” he complains, as she sashays away from him and towards the corridor, “Where are you going?”

“We need to toast your birthday!” she calls over her shoulder as she disappears around the corner.

“But, it’s not really-,” he sighs and stops as he realises he’s talking to an empty room. He shakes his head and pulls up his boxers and trousers before sitting back in the jumpseat and waiting for River to reappear. He still hasn’t really caught his breath back since River first appeared in the console room.

He must’ve closed his eyes very briefly because he nearly jumps out of his skin a few minutes later when River’s voice suddenly crackles in the air.

“Sweetie, do we have any of the 1976 Krug? I’m sure we do but I can only find the ’77 and it just isn’t as good.”

He looks around wildly but he’s still alone in the console room.

“River?” he exclaims, “What? How are you doing- Where-“

“I’m in the kitchen, sweetie,” she says in that infinitely patient tone that she seems to reserve for when she’s telling him something extremely obvious, “I’m speaking over the intercom.”

“But. The TARDIS doesn’t have an intercom?” he objects, still looking frantically around the room as if River might suddenly pop up from behind the furniture somewhere. Her silence in response to his comment tells him she is probably rolling her eyes at him.

He’s about to come up with something very cutting and witty when over the intercom he suddenly hears a gasp and a very Scottish ‘Oh my god!’

The Ponds! Oh gods indeed! He had totally forgotten them and their date! He leaps up, spinning around to look for his shirt and then remembers River had purloined it just minutes ago. He swears in Gallifreyan under his breath, running a hand desperately through his hair before dashing out the door.

He sprints down the corridor which is rather longer than he remembers it being, cursing the TARDIS under his breath as he does do. He careens to a halt just before the kitchen and vainly tries to slow his breathing as he attempts to nonchalantly stroll inside.

He stops in the doorway and swallows nervously. River is leaning back against the kitchen counter, still clad in only his shirt and her knickers. She’s clutching a bottle of champagne in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other and looking exceptionally amused.

There’s another doorway into the kitchen on the opposite side to him and standing there are both Ponds. Amy is looking mildly embarrassed but still faintly amused whereas Rory has a shocked and slightly horrified expression on his face.

“Ah, there you are, sweetie!” River calls out cheerfully, “Did you want a glass of fizz?”

“Doctor?” Amy simply puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head at him expectantly.

“Ponds!” he exclaims as he looks wild-eyed between them, “River just arrived and- she- Well, we were going to celebrate because-“

“I think we know how you two were ‘celebrating’,” Amy snorts, folding her arms in front of her, “You’re only wearing one outfit between the two of you!”

“Ah, no, no,” the Doctor shakes his head frantically, “I know what this looks like but actually I had to give River my shirt as she only had a coat and some underwear that, well, really wasn’t much of an outfit to begin with and after-“

“Not. Helping, Doctor,” Rory mutters from between gritted teeth as he scrubs a hand over his eyes as if trying to erase that particular mental picture.

The Doctor gulps and attempts to salute the other man. “Sorry, centurion.”

“I suppose I should have asked earlier but when are we, Doctor?” River asks, still looking far too entertained with the whole situation.

“We’ve only just done Berlin a few weeks ago,” he mumbles as her eyes widen.

“Oh! Early days then,” River nods in understanding, a grin still playing around her lips, “So, this is the first time you’ve caught us like this?” she asks Amy and Rory as they nod.

“Hang on!” the Doctor says in a panicked voice, her words suddenly sinking in, “What do you mean ‘first time’?”

River simply gives him that knowing smirk again. “Believe me, none of you want to know about those times in advance.”

He puts that rather worrying thought to the back of his mind, ignoring the way Rory blanches and Amy gives a small shudder. Pasting a smile on his face, he claps his hands. “Well, we’re all here now! We can have that double date!”

“Double date?” River raises an eyebrow as she looks at him.

Amy shakes her head. “Sorry Raggedy-Man. Seeing you two half-dressed has kind of ruined my appetite.”

The Doctor glares at her and pulls his braces up self-consciously over his bare-chest, ignoring River’s soft snort of laughter. “Oi. Rude, Amelia.

“Don’t you Amelia me!” she retorts and wags a finger at him, “I know exactly what you’ve been doing with my daughter!” she adds as the Doctor blushes bright red and avoids her gaze. She turns on her heel and heads towards the door, dragging Rory along with her. “We’ll see you in the morning,” she calls over her shoulder, “If you could try and keep it out of the communal areas that would be lovely!”

The Doctor splutters in protest and turns an even deeper shade of red. He turns to River who is still leaning against the countertop. “You,” he points his finger accusingly at her, “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes,” he nods emphatically, crossing his arms across his bare chest and trying to look foreboding as it was possible to look when only half dressed, “We had a nice evening planned. The four of us. A double date. And then, you arrived with-,” he gestures vaguely at her, “Well. With all-. Looking like that and now here we are.”

River ignores his attempts at glaring and simply laughs. She puts the champagne and glasses down on the side and slinks towards him, her hips swaying. She runs her hands up his chest and winds them around his neck.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she coos in a tone that suggests she isn’t really very sorry at all. She leans in closer and whispers in his ear. “Shall I make it up you?”

He swallows heavily, his arms having already uncrossed themselves and somehow found themselves settling on her hips. “Well,” he mumbles, “It is my birthday after all.”

Her answering laugh is muffled as he kisses her once more.

#river song #river x eleven #riverdoctorpromptweek #my fic #lmao this totally turned into tenuous pwp so I apologise #I am also doing no work this week bc of these prompts #rip my thesis

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Heyy!! 💙 Selena here! Would It be posible yo request a scenario, please? So its a normal day at school and suddenly the reader overhear a conversation of her current boyfriend with one of his friends in which he confesses that he's just dating the reader to win a bet of 1.000 yens? Completely crushed she doesn't know how to react but she was not the only one accidentally listening.Noya who has a huge Crush on reader was also there... ¿ What would he do now? Nsfw included please! Enjoy!

It would be possible!! This turned out really fluffy instead of nsfw content just because I like to have a build-up of things, I hope that’s alright<3 🥺

And my inbox has been flooded with need for more Noya so🥰

On the Line. (Nishinoya Yu x Reader)

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

“Noya, you’re drooling again.”

The libero wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting a glare at a grinning Ennoshita, who casted a glance at your laughing figure a few seats away as his grin widens. Before Nishinoya Yu could completely deny that assumption, he stills in his seat when your eyes flit over to his brown ones, your lips stretching out in a warm smile as you offer a timid wave.

God, why did you have to smile like that?

Blinking out of a trance, the libero turns away from your direction abruptly as Ennoshita continues to sip his box of strawberry juice, somewhat used to his friend’s odd behavior when it came to you as the second year hums, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Considering the amount of girls you’re known to fawn over-”

“excUSE ME-”

“Y/N’s been kind of a long term thing, no?” Ennoshita questions casually, flipping a page in his manga he had open throughout the lunch period as Noya goes to defend himself- only to open his mouth and shut it again quickly, for he had no defense to that statement.

“Don’t kid yourself, Y/N’s just a close friend.” Noya chuckles somewhat forcibly as Ennoshita’s eyes lift from his page to arch a challenging brow. “Besides-”

Brown eyes soften, voice cracking a tad bit as he watches your boyfriend poke his head into the classroom door as a smile- a smile that wasn’t for him- brightens your features more than when you looked at him did.

“Close friends shouldn’t cross lines when they’re obviously drawn.” Noya finishes, and Ennoshita’s eyes fall back down to his manga, his wrist flicking to throw the empty juice carton at his friend’s head as Noya catches it with a glare.

“Stick with drooling over Kiyoko- you’re scarier when you say serious stuff.”

“I’ll have you know- wait, scarier?”

“Dude, have you met yourself?”

Before a snarky retort can be made about Ennoshita’s lack of empathy, Noya quiets down to realize you were no longer in the classroom, and Ennoshita had successfully distracted the libero from watching you leave with your boyfriend.

“I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you.”

“The former would be great, thanks.”

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

“uGH practice is such a pain.” Noya whines as Tanaka whistles lowly in agreement from next to him, the iconic duo feeling lucky practice was delayed for the day due to Ukai’s tardiness, the coach getting held back by a prior engagement.

“I’ll meet you in the gym later?” Tanaka questions after Noya had released a groan after the realization that his notebook had been left behind- a notebook that held at least a dozen late homework assignments that needed to be in by tomorrow.

“Yeah, man- Tell Daddy Dai I’ll be there in a few.”

“Still can’t believe he lets you call him that.”

“Oh he doesn’t- on second thought he does. Tanaka, if you love me you’ll call him that when you see him.”

“Who the hell loves you?” His best friend sneers as Noya puts up a peace sign accompanied by a wide grin as he walks off, his smile lessening when his back turns again to his lonely trek in the mostly empty hallways of Karasuno.

Yeah, who would?

Before he can stifle it, your face popped up into his mind along with a tug at his heartstrings as Noya continues his slow walk back to his classroom, a glazed look taking over his eyes as he wonders if you made it home safely with that asshat of a boyfriend-

Until he saw it.

Noya pauses mid-step, the glazed look being blinked away as he saw you standing outside a classroom that wasn’t yours, the door open slightly ajar as your hair skewed the image of your face. An excited smile spreads on the libero’s face at the thought of an unexpected conservation with you, his pace picking up until he sees something that made his breath hitch in his throat as he stands two steps away from you.

Your eyes were brimmed with unshed, shining tears that seemed to threaten to spill over at any moment, and before Noya can ask you why on instinct, you had grabbed his arm in a tight grip, putting a weak finger to your lips as you signal him to stay quiet.

With furrowed brows, the libero complies, leaning against the wall next to you as he remains focused on your grip on his arm, an involuntary blush rising to his cheeks at the situation at hand-

but it didn’t last very long.

Noya’s ears perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice- a voice that he dreaded hearing call your name every day during break times.

“...yeah, man- I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He felt your grip seem to loosen on his arm.

“With Y/N? Dude, I don’t know why you would go so far for 1000 yen-”

He watched a painful expression cross your face as your eyes widened in absolute disbelief.

“Right? I thought it would be easy, but she looks at me like I’m the best thing to ever happen to her, what would you do in my situation?”

But the instigating factor?

“Dump her. You agreed because she seemed cute and easy, right?”

When the tears tipped over the eyes he loved, his vision turned into a blurry fit of rage, shoving off the wall before ripping his arm from your grasp as you attempt to keep him next to you. Noya stops for a second when your hand reaches out to grab at the back of his shirt material, your reddened eyes widening when the libero smiles a closed-eye grin at you, mouthing the words you needed to hear most.

It’ll be okay. I’ll be back.

“1000 yen richer, I guess. Anyways, I wonder where that airhead-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a fist collided with his cheek, Nishinoya seething so angrily he hardly spared a glance at the friend that made a dash for the exit at the arrival of the school’s known-troublemaker.

All those days watching you be with him. A hidden part wishing he was him. The convincing of himself that he was happy you were happy-

Noya’s eyes mimicked the ones in which he was on the court, eyes spinning dangerously serious as brown eyes narrowed, a fist grabbing at your boyfriend’s collar from where he now laid with a slightly cracked lip.

When this was how things were all along?

“What the hell are you doing?!”

A humorless chuckle. “What does it look like? A fucking tea party?”

When his fist reels back again, he stops when he feels a hand rest gently on the back of his elbow, Noya just knowing from the touch that it was you as his tense muscles relax almost immediately.

“N-Noya...”

At the sound of your cracked, stuttering voice, the libero releases a heavy sigh, releasing your now ex-boyfriend’s shirt so that at least his head hits the classroom floor as Noya stands protectively in front of you.

“Bastard...you think you’ll get away with something like this?” Your ex seems to chuckle a tad deliriously as Noya ignores him, shuffling through his pockets before dropping a few crumpled bills at his feet, your ex finally taking notice of you with widened eyes.

“I don’t care. I just get suspended again, but you?” Noya sneers, kicking the bills towards what he had always considered not good enough for you. “You fucked with the wrong person, asshole. Here’s 4300 yen (about 40 USD), whatever shitty bet you had going on is off, don’t even look her way anymore. Not like you deserved it in the first place anyway.”

With that, Noya spun on his heel to grab your hand hastily, adrenaline running through his veins before he feels you freeze at the sound of his voice.

“Y-Y/N, baby please-”

“I don’t know if he didn’t make it clear enough,” You glance at him once more, etching the image into your mind before mentally discarding it. “But we’re through. If there was any we to begin with.”

Noya’s brows reach towards his airline before he releases a low whistle at you’re words, surprised when you’re the one to lead him out of the class, stopping only when you reach the exit of the school.

“Y/N-”

“Have anywhere I can maybe, I don’t know, cry?”

Noya’s eyes widen as a million thoughts flit through his head as he takes a chance. Slowly, he turns your figure so you’re facing him fully, gently prying the hands that covered the features you now deemed ugly away before tucking your face into his chest-

the libero determined to make you feel as beautiful as he saw you as, feeling the sobs wreck through your body as your hands tightened at the shirt material on his chest.

Looks like he’ll be missing practice today.

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

“You didn’t have to go that far.”

You smile a little at Noya’s look of seriously? from his place in the kitchen, causing you to giggle a little from underneath the blanket he had given you as you relaxed a bit more into his couch. The smile dwindles as you wonder how you had gotten here, puffy-eyed and broken-hearted in the house of someone you deemed as a close friend-

but why had your heart beat picked up when his back was to you in that classroom as he faced your ex? Why did that smile he casted to you before rushing in to defend your dignity make you loosen your grip on his shirt as a newfound feeling emerged in your stomach?

Had he always been there? Just in that little pocket in the back of your mind, waiting to be seen, as someone simply stood in front of him?

“I left my homework at school for you. I’m expecting my payment in m&ms.”

You shake your head of those thoughts just as Noya sets down a steaming mug of hot tea in front of you, and your eyes widen before you subconsiously raise a hand to his hair, retort falling silent.

Noya blushes, eyes narrowing at the small giggle that slips your lips as he occupies the couch seat next to you. “What?”

“Your hair’s not being held up by like, three different products of hair gel.” You observe, genuinely interested in his soft locks as the heat in the libero’s cheeks deepen before he scoffs.

“Two actually, imagine being uneducated.”

“Imagine assaulting someone because of a childish bet.”

“It was self-defense.”

“In what way?” You find yourself laughing as Noya turns fully towards you, a lopsided grin on his lips that had your laugh dying down at the pounding in your chest.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.”

Embarrassed, you retract your hand from his hair hastily before picking up the mug and taking a deep sip, flinching at the heat as Noya calms his nerves at the girl he’s been in love with acting so cute next to him.

The mug hits the table gently as you set it down, a far-off look in your eyes as Noya takes his share of the blanket, wondering if you were uncomfortable with the proximity before you relax into his side, your head leaning on his shoulder.

“I have to wonder...if all I was had been a game all along.”

“Apparently the no sad talk rule I put in place before we entered my domain was ignored, and it shows.”

You go to swat him playfully before Noya catches your wrist, brown eyes soft and looking at you as if he were afraid you would break at any moment.

“Y/N, you’re literally the prettiest, nicest girl in the grade- it’s not your fault you decided to make the worst possible choice.”

A pink dusts across your cheeks at the compliments before you pout. “But it kinda is.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh into your mug, not realizing Noya had been watching you with a gaze you were used to catching in the middle of breaks or class. “And who would be a better choice?”

“Are you joking?”

You blink at the deadpan of Noya’s voice before he scoffs as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Ennoshita. Are you dumb?”

“I was thinking more you, but yeah I could totally-”

The couch is soft against your back as the blanket drapes over Noya’s back as you find yourself sandwiched between him and the couch, his hands placed firmly next to your head to support himself as he keeps his weight off of you. Your eyes trace over his features as his brown eyes seem to seriously stare into yours, your faces inches apart.

“You can’t take it back.”

You melt into the feel of his lips upon yours, smiling into it as something in you just feels so right in this moment, pushing him back a little as soon as his hand trails down to your waist.

“Noya, I just got out of the worst day of my life-”

“Then I’ll make every day better than the last.”

“It’s not too soon?” You ask worriedly as Noya digs his face into your neck, and you blush when his lips move against your neck.

“Nothing’s too soon when I’ve been waiting this long, babe.”

Noya smirks when your skin seems to heat under his touch, feeling you squirm when his hands move to rest on your waist gently as he peppers your neck in kisses.

“How long have you been waiting?” You pout, pulling Noya out of your neck as the libero scoffs, his lips moving to trace up your jawline before making his way across your cheek sweetly, stopping only when his lips hover over yours.

“Too long, apparently.”

“C-Can I kiss you?”

Rolling his eyes, Noya cups your face gently as his thumb traces your cheek, speaking against your lips as he feels your lips curl upwards into it.

“I don’t know if I have to make this clear- but you don’t have to ask your boyfriend for permission, babe.”

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General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu karasuno #karasuno #nishinoya #nishinoya x reader #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yu #nishinoya yuu

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arrivisting · 3 years

Note

I’d love author commentary on basically the whole scene at Ekkaia in all my war is done (or any individual part of that scene, if your prefer). Taken together, it’s one of the most beautiful and emotionally complex and heartrending things you’ve written, from the description of the sea itself, to the difficulties of Fingon and Alqualondë, to Gil and the ocean and his ‘mother’, to Fingon and Gil beginning to tackle the thorny subect of Maedhros.

I should admit something about all my war is done: it's the most fugue-like my writing has ever been. I jotted down a few notes on my commute into work - I was deeply underwater with my PhD at the time, three months away from submitting - and then the idea of writing a sequel to scion seized me so profoundly that I sat down in the Starbucks where my bus stops, took out my laptop, and wrote instead of just collecting my coffee and walking down to my office. I wrote 15k. In one day. In about five or six hours. I've never achieved anything like that before or since - I do have good days where I can knock 2-4k out easily, but not 15k. (You might note that the posted part of all my war is done is only 12k, but I wrote all the way up into the next bit with Fingon in Tirion that you've read, up until Turgon at the dinner table). I didn't sit down or plan events; I didn't actually know much about what would happen: but I knew they were going to Ekkaia and they'd have some kind of resolution there. These are my phone-notes, from that morning:

You can see, I think, something of the way an idea hits me. I note down a few snatches of plot, not necessarily in any order, some lines I think people should say at some point, although I might not use them, sketch out some things (Formenos's ruins were going to feature more heavily, but they're waiting for a later story).

(It makes me laugh, the words my phone doesn't accept - Gil-galad, for one - and the ones it automatically capitalises from where I've yelled enthusiastically about elf things at people. I never stop long enough to correct spelling etc when I'm trying to get something down).

I clearly knew from inception that I wanted Fingon's place to be called the hill of waiting, and had tried out the name in Sindarin; because my verbs are not good, I came up with Amon Dartha. It was when I was redrafting that I realised Amon Darthir had existed actually in Dor-lomin(!!!) and the name was even more perfect symbolically than I'd meant it to be! Did I know that, unconsciously? I don't know.

You can see, too, that the Sea of Ekkaia was almost the very first point to hit me, and that I knew it and the scene there would be important, and that I knew that the story was about Fingon finding a way to tell Gil-galad that he had been loved, and wanted, and that meant talking about Maedhros; and that at the end I wanted Gil-galad to be gently, impersonally, firmly clear that he would not, could not, be staying to wait with Fingon.

Okay, DVD commentary proper - I'm sorry, I remember awfully little about writing this, given the fugue state and my thesis and everything, so I'm not sure how useful this will be!

“Oh,” said Gil-galad when they broke out of the woods and began to ride down over the dune-lands to the rocky shore. “Oh!”

The Sea of Ekkaia was beautiful, in its own way, but that way that was like no other place in Arda, in either Aman or Middle Earth.

It was a dark-blue that was almost black, even in the late afternoon, and the shore was less sand than gravel, a strange inconsistent rubble of rock and broken sea-shells that had been dashed to pieces by the constant fury of the waves. Staring out to sea, one did not see the far-away horizon the way one did on the gentler coast of Belegaer: there was no gentle faraway blue haze through which one might, perhaps, on a clear day, imagine that Middle Earth could be glimpsed, or at least the Straight Path.

No: instead along the horizon there was a seam of silver light, and then a great blackness, where the Sea of Ekkaia met the Uttermost West that was not quite the Doors of Night, but was certainly the end of Aman itself. If you stood on the shore watching, the seam would ripple with a pulse of light, sometimes green and sometimes white.

It was so far from anywhere the Eldar of Valinor lived. While they clustered around the Belegaer like moths to flame, this shore seemed instead to repel them. Was it the sight of the world’s end itself? It might be; yet Fingon thought there was more to why this wilderness was so little visited, this howling black sea lashing itself against a grey shore. It was beautiful, but not in the way Elves liked things to be beautiful: it was too raw, too unfinished, too savage.

It was too close to where Mandos kept his Halls, which were not only a thing of spirit but also matter, at least in the way that things in Aman were both. Too close to where Nienna’s tower looked out into the Void and where she wept, and wept, and wept. It was too close to death and to rebirth, to judgment and to pity.

There's a little Dawn Treader, I think, in this idea of the uttermost West. I don't know why I thought the seam of the world should pulse with strange light, but it's an uncanny kind of geography, so near Mandos and Nienna, and I like the sense that this is the end of the world, but not the end of the universe.

A lot of this came together serendipitously. I knew some kind of memorialisation of the river that bore Gil-galad needed to be part of his story; that meant going to the sea; and it's clear from the notes that I had already decided that couldn't mean Alqualonde because of kinslaying reasons and memories. (And that that too would need to be confronted). Therefore: roadtrip to Ekkaia. Therefore, the question: what would Ekkaia be like? We don't really know anything about it - only the good qualities of Belegaer. This was really written by a process of inversion, a way of pulling what we know about Belegaer inside-out, and imagining a place at the world's edge, a place that was empty, a place that was uncannily close to difficult things, to Mandos and Nienna; a place that seemed to repel the Eldar as surely as Belegaer drew them like iron filings.

I was thinking visually about New Zealand, too. I spent my childhood summers on the beaches up north, mostly around Tūtūkākā, which are bright and lovely, with golden or white or tawny sand, with gnarled pohutukawa and blue-green water. Like this:

That's what beach and sea meant to me, and it was a shock the first time I went to one of the black sand beaches where the wind howled and the colours weren't blue, green, gold, but iron, grey, navy, black. I loved it, but it felt so other, so passionate, so strange. That shock and that wild beauty and desolation were things I wanted to get at, though Ekkaia would be far more wild and desolate still.

They left the horses in the thin sea-grass, and their shoes, too, and walked down to the water. “I missed it,” Gil-galad said, and closed his eyes, breathing in the brine. “I missed it badly, all the long years besieging Mordor before I died.”

I think Gil-galad would be very marked by his upbringing first in the Falas and then on Balar; you don't lose that, if you grew up by the sea.

The wind took up his long dark hair and made a banner of it as they walked along the rough crescent of rocky ground where the waves met the shore, and around their bare ankles small stones tumbled back and forth in the lace-edge of the water.

When I was young I used to stand in the water and let the waves bury me up to my ankles, watching the water move in, out, spreading skirts of lace overlapping as new waves came in. I could do it for hours. There's something very liminal about the water's edge, between the solid land and the sea, which is why I put this conversation in it, I think. They're in a liminal space and at a liminal moment. It's the scene the whole story has been inexorably building toward, the point where all Fingon's painful scraping-away of his barriers finally reaches his skin.

“Sometimes in Middle Earth it became very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said, his eyes still closed, “in the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.” He opened his eyes and looked towards the Uttermost West where the world ended. “And here it is impossible not to. Look at it!"

This is a little more hopeful than the original version, which I don't have anymore, but went pretty much:

"Sometimes in Middle Earth it was very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said. "In the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.”

It was a comment more about Gil-galad's rueful scepticism than wonder - because he fought the Dagorlad before he died, because he spent the last ten years of his life in mud and blood and filth and horror. I work on the First World War - its literary legacy and traces in the decades after, more than its immediate experience or actuality, because there was a ten-year period after 1918 where it was more latent than overt, a traumatic lacuna of silence, a Nachträglichkeit- and I thought in the blood, and the mud, and the filth was a little too on the nose.

I kept it, though, because Tolkien was drawing on his own memories of the trenches with the Dagorlad and the Dead Marshes, with those blurred lines of solid land and mud/bog, the living mixed up with the remains of with the dead, all the themes you see again and again in the war poetry and the officer war-books. (Santanu Das is very good on this, as is Eric Leed). Paul Fussell is a bit old-hat now, but his argument that WWI altered the sensibility of its survivors because of their close, consanguinous co-existence with the dead is something I still find valuable. I think there's a lot of WWI survivor in the way I think of Gil-galad, actually, I'm just realising - not that he survived the Last Alliance. He's detached in a different way from Fingon. Fingon's built himself a thick layer of repression/denial, a kind of callous to protect himself from confronting or thinking about what Maedhros did, and what that means for him and to him; Gil-galad is entirely present, but somewhat detached in some ways, the way people who came back from war could be. Not that Fingon and Finrod aren't also separated from the Amanyar by their time in Beleriand and experience of war and death, but Gil-galad lived there for millennia, and he fought a longer, harder, more total kind of war than they did.

But he's at the Sea of Ekkaia, as west as you can get. So much of Tolkien is about that endless longing glance west, that movement: why is this very westernmost edge so under-explored?

I wanted Gil-galad to be softened by this encounter with the sea, so I went back and let his wonder be as much at the spectacle itself as the sea, like the greater hand at work he had sometimes doubted being visible was something wonderful rather than something to be bitter about. I wanted to position him to be potentially open to, perhaps, the Valar; perhaps, to Fingon. I hope he doesn't come off as closed-minded: I think of him as having a fair mind, and good judgment, but - despite placing him here between the sea and the shore - very clear personal lines between what he thinks is just, and what is not. Certainly, it helps a lot, never having known the Feanorians when they had not fallen.

The seam of the universe pulsed with light, and beyond it was – what?

Unutterable nothingness, something worse than death.

Perhaps Maedhros.

This is an important line for Fingon. He hasn't though the name of his own accord for much of the story, flinching away from it; it's only come in when Finrod and then Gil-galad speak the name. This is the first time he's thought it clearly of his own free will, and this is I think the first signal that he's brought Gil-galad here to be as honest and earnest with him as he can be, however much it hurts, or however much it might drive him away. Because if he isn't, and doesn't, Gil-galad will be driven away anyway, and Fingon wants to be connected with him, the first time he's wanted that kind of bond with anyone since he returned.

(I think of Finrod as someone who just kept turning up, regularly, and forcing Fingon to associate with him; and then bringing Amarie; and then his children; and not taking no for an answer. It bothers Turgon rather terribly that they seem to be friends now, when they were never that close Before: that Fingon pushes him away, but allows Finrod to keep pushing; that Finrod does push. He doesn't know about Gil-galad, of course).

He's brought Gil-galad here to show him if possible that he was wanted, to conjure up lost Ringwil where she might be felt if not found; and to do the same for Maedhros. This is a signal that this journey to the sea is as much about Gil-galad's missing father as his missing mother.

The almost-forgotten tang of salt in the air always mingled with the smell of blood in Fingon’s worst memories, and he was not the only one who remembered. The waves were gentle around Gil-galad’s feet, but they boiled furiously around Fingon’s, delivering small spiteful slaps at his calves.

Spiteful was probably the wrong word here. I don't necessarily mean a dramatic boiling or bubbling; but the water is harsh where it touches him, the kind of slapping roughness you get when the tide is coming in rough.

It took Gil-galad longer to mark the difference, engrossed in the joy of the sea and spectacle as he was, and when he did, his face changed. There was something terribly sad in his eyes when he lifted them from the water to look at Fingon.

It wasn’t why he had brought Gil-galad here; but Fingon didn’t want to imagine the look he would receive if he brushed aside the silent question. “No,” he said. “I am not forgiven.”

“So I see.”

They could probably leave it there.

But Fingon won't, because he's trying. He's really trying to connect after all the time flinching away from it, and he's remembering what Gil-galad said about talking, and what Finrod said about mistakes and silences in their first life.

He said, “You said you loathed the thought of being the son of – a murderer. But my own hands have not been clean since Alqualondë, and death didn’t unstain them. All the time you thought I might be your father, you must have known I was a Kinslayer, too.”

I tried to signal this in their earlier tower conversation with Finrod, and Gil-galad's changing of the topic, but I feel like it's a little abrupt here.

“Yes,” Gil-galad said, and his expression didn’t change. “And when the knights that had served you came to me, they told me that you killed that day in ignorance, that you came upon a battle already being fought; that you took up your sword to save those you loved and didn’t question whether it was just. I heard that from others, too, those who had less reason to bend facts to a flattering pattern; survivors of Gondolin and of Nargothrond. I did ask."

“Ignorance wasn’t an excuse. I died ashamed of it, and I live again with the shame.”

"Good!” said Gil-galad, and there was no forgiveness in his voice, even when Fingon jerked his head up in shock. Instead there was the stern ring of a king used to weighing the ideals of justice against the world as it was, the king who had walked arm in arm with Eonwë the Maia, led his people through many full-fledged wars, and held court and meted justice to them for an Age. “That gives me a far better opinion of you than any of the stories did! I’m glad.”

I remember talking to you about this in the comments, about what it meant that Gil-galad wasn't forgiving him. I think I really meant condone, but I also don't think it's Gil-galad's place to absolve Fingon - he wasn't the one wronged! - and that it's important to me that, because Fingon does truly regret it, he doesn't wish to be absolved, to slide away from it. I don't mean he ought to wallow in it or flog himself with it daily, but I think it would be important to him to shoulder and own that guilt rather than ever allowing himself to put it behind him or have someone else tell him it’s quite all right.

I think this is a moment where I show that they're quite similar, too, because even if Fingon wasn't aware that a bracing, clear assessment was just what he wanted, it was what he needed, rather than people being kind (which he's had a lot of, since he returned; and which hasn't touched that central guilt he's hidden from them, that he loved Maedhros, who had done such terrible things. It's prevented him from accepting kindness made him block people reaching out to him. Gil-galad is not being kind, but just, and still reaching out).

It felt like Fingon had been struggling to take a full lungful of air for a long time, and now something constricting in his chest had loosened, as it hadn’t even after the Valar themselves had judged him. It was only now that he realised that he hadn’t wanted Gil-galad to forgive or absolve him. He had wanted – needed – Gil-galad to be better than him, to withhold forgiveness when it was unmerited; and Gil-galad had. He had become the shining legacy they had all hoped he would be, the thing they had all somehow done right.

The water slapped at his ankles again, in impatient reminder.

This is too brief a transition. I should have fleshed the join out more.

“I think Ulmo would come to you here, if you called. You were a king by the sea in Middle Earth, and you may not remember it, but it was a river who gave you life.”

Gil-galad looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “What?”

“I brought you here for a reason,” Fingon said. “Where did they go, the drowned and poisoned rivers of Beleriand? I don’t know; but Ulmo might.”

I've really personified the rivers, but I think it's a clear and easy extrapolation from the Withywindle and the River-daughter in The Fellowship of the Ring that I don't need to justify in order to argue that every river might have had its own attendant Maia-spirit. It does make what happened to the Rivers of Beleriand much worse, though, and I wanted to look at the way a character that was a throwaway mechanism in scion ended up being sickened and dying as horribly as Beleriand did; this story was really about following all those lighter bits in scion home, to the end of the line, and looking at the long-term impacts of something that began more lightly. In this verse, Ringwil was a river, but also a person; and I think of her and Finrod as sharing a strange human-river friendship and overlapping enthusiasms.

He clapped Gil-galad on the shoulder, hoping it said all the things he meant it to say. Affection had been so easy for him once, in the life that had been taken from him by the fiery flails of the Balrogs, but now it came hard, and the sea-smell was in his nose, the terrible memories too close to the surface.

He had surely outstayed Ulmo’s tolerance by now. Fingon left Gil-galad there in the water, and didn’t dare glance back until there was thin sandy soil under his feet again.

Only then did he look once more towards the sea.

Gil-galad was standing in the shallows. His broad shoulders were bunched tight, as if he was readying himself for something very difficult, a confrontation with one of the Valar he had long doubted.

Then he spread his arms out, empty-handed, and tipped his head back, and the light on the horizon grew unbearably bright, whiter than white, more silver than silver; and a face began to move upon the water.

I really like this, honestly. Which I can't/don't say often! The temptation to overwrite this was strong, to show this encounter, to describe the Vala: but I think it's often stronger not to show something numinous, to pull away, to let the mind fill it in.

Again, this is Gil-galad as I imagine him: still somewhat distanced from the Valar by the Dagorlad and the things that happened there (and I think perhaps doubly unhappy in that he lived through the end of an Age once before, and that time, at least, the Valar came: they did not come in the Second, nor send so much as a messenger, and such obscenities as the fall of Ost-in-Edhil and the drowning of Numenor had been allowed to happen, and Men and Elves were left alone to come together and break Sauron's grip). Doubting, but not angry; doubting, but still curious. Open to listening.

a face began to move upon the water is of course a deliberate sideways reference to

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

It took a very long time. Fingon could not watch; his eyes dazzled.

Can you tell I was teaching The Duchess of Malfi at this time? Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young. That sense of a light too bright and white to look upon; that sense of guilt; that faint reference to life lost untimely. This wasn't meant to be a direct intertextual reference, but that net of meaning was there, lightly. Again, I wanted to under-write rather than over-write. I know I have a tendency to over-write.

And of course - there's a sense here that Fingon is refusing the kind of close enoucnter with Ulmo he could/might have. There's water in his eyes. From the wind?

“Thank you,” Gil-galad said when he rejoined him at last. His eyes were glowing, and he whistled Ceredir to him from where he was tearing ropey roots of sea-grass from the dunes with great relish. “Thank you for bringing me here;” and he didn’t say it the way he’d thanked Fingon for the horse, or the armour, or the sword, or even the lance.

Because this is a real gift, something that means something to both of them, something more honest/painful. Fingon's been trying to connect through gifts but not serious conversation or sharing, like some estranged parents do, throwing money at the problem rather than giving of their time or their selves, and however well-meant, it hasn't worked.

“I didn’t truly do anything."

“You brought me to the Sea. I know – I could see – how difficult it was for you."

"Well,” Fingon said lamely. He cleared his throat. “What did Lord Ulmo say about – oh, I can’t call her your dam! – the Maia who bore you? Did she – was she there?”

The dam pun is Finrod's. Don't blame me.

A little of the light dimmed, but it didn’t quite fade away. “No, she’s gone. Back to the Timeless Halls, he says; but one with him again, Ulmo, at the same time.” Gil-galad made a noise. “I don’t pretend to understand any of it, all the metaphysical nonsense of the Ainur! But he was kind to me, and he told me something of her – that she delighted in the making of me.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I left the flowers we gathered earlier in the waves for her and the sea didn’t dash them back onto the shore. I’m sure Ulmo broke a few laws of Arda there.”

I like this image of the flowers suspended in the water. I had it clearly in mind from before I began to write.

"You were wanted.”

“I’m beginning to believe it,” Gil-galad said.

“You should,” Fingon said. He took a breath. Talking is how you sort things out; and a long time ago, Fingon had been known for his valour. Gil-galad deserved to know how much he had been wanted, who had called himself a political compromise given birth. The truth of that had stung.

And it was less than the truth. Fingon could still remember the first time he had opened his mind to Maedhros over the leagues between them and let him see Gil’s small face through his own eyes, holding nothing back. He had shown Maedhros the dark long lashes and the squashed baby nose, the milk-blister on the bow of Gil’s upper lip, the way his whole head turned an alarming red when he wailed; shared with Maedhros Gil’s fondness for being tossed in the air, his splashing joy in his bath.

This is is me trying to describe a baby without being too sentimental about it, because Fingon wasn't all, oh look at the toesie-woesies, or my son, my son: his eye was more detached, and you see him in scion thinking of Gil-galad as it.

I've been thinking about why Fingon in no way allowed himself to consciously dote on the baby, why that streak of denial that's so strong in his second life was there in his first light, and really: it would have been dangerous to let himself love him, to see Gil as his son and Maedhros's. He was born at a time of terrible loss, after the Flame, when they all expected they could die themselves. He was moved around Beleriand like a game-piece. Fingon was always going to lose him: he wasn't going to get to raise him, after all, until and unless Morgoth was defeated. Maedhros wasn't going to meet him, until and unless &c. It was easier not to let oneself get attached than it was to confront those hard facts and let oneself be hurt by them. Easier to think of him as a baby Finwean prince, and that only: a political pawn, not a son.

Conversely, Maedhros maintains a physical distance, but not an emotional one. Here's a bit from Maedhros's perspective:

Finrod had told him that. They had written, back and forth, in the long months as Ringwil’s belly swelled, as the child formed, as it began to move and stretch and turn frog-like inside her. They had corresponded constantly during the first months of the child’s life in Nargothrond, and during the first months of his life, Finrod had sent long scrolls detailing every change in Artanaro’s weight, his length, his hair colour, his eye colour, how much milk he’d consumed each day: screeds winging forth to Himring until the child was old enough to survive the secret trip north.

Fingon’s letters had been infuriatingly spare of useful information while the child was fostered at Barad Eithel. Beloved, ineloquent Fingon: Fingon, who had nevertheless shown him the child as no reams of paper could.

Fingon had given him forever the rounded bloom of his full cheeks, and the pursed mouth, sullen in sleep: the feathery, rather cross-looking eyebrows, and the small hands with their deep dimples and smaller fingernails, curled into the edge of Fingon’s furred mantle.

Maedhros had felt the way Fingon hovered between wonder and confusion at what they’d wrought: the way he couldn’t quite manage to think of the child as his own, this thing spun out of air and calculation and freshwater into heavy, solid life. He could have loved him so desperately, Maedhros knew that. He was halfway there, hovering in terror on the edge, afraid of falling. If the baby had stayed in Barad Eithel longer; if Fingon had watched him begin to creep around on fat little knees, to pull himself up on the furniture and to take his first steps – to hear the baby babble turn into words and speech – his heart would have opened to him like a flower, and the child would have become the centre of his universe, the sun in his sky.

Fingon had never known what to do with Idril as an infant, either, but he’d easily become an adored uncle as she grew up. If they’d had more time – if the child had been permitted to stay with Fingon even a month longer before being sent for safety to Cirdan –

Well, they’d never had enough time.

There had been few walls between them then, so he had felt Maedhros’s bright joy, the painful love, in its moment of birth: swelling and swelling like a cloud with rain, as though his heart was growing and his blood was leaking out of him at the same time, transmuting into pure tenderness and iron purpose.

I like this because I think of the Ekkaia scene as a cloudburst, full of emotion that has been swelling and swelling and now released. This is one bit of the breaking-through.

He had never needed to ask whether Maedhros considered Gil-galad a son.

“I don’t want to talk about – him,” Fingon said with difficulty, and the salt breeze stung his face, his eyes. “I know you loathe him, and rightly; and I do, too. I do hate him; or I hate what he did. I do! But you should know – you deserve to – that he wanted you, badly, although he never met you; he never wanted the shadow on him to touch you or to taint you.

And this. You can see here where I spun off into cliffs of fall, which isn't a scion story, but sprung out of this speech. It was already there in those sketchy notes, too, a lot of what Fingon's saying here: this important line about hating Maedhros, or what he did (that movement from clear certainty to trying to separate the deeds from the loved one; to urgent reptition - I do! I mean it, I really do! - which means he doesn't, can't: this is the heart of Fingon's guilt, because he wants to hate Maedhros utterly, but he can't, and he is profoundly in denial about that).

“He always wanted children; I took that from him even before the Oath did, but I gave it back to him with you. I loved you first of all for that, but he loved you for yourself. Because you existed, against all hope and possibility and fate and chance; and because you were ours.”

Gil-galad said nothing. There was still a wildflower tucked behind his ear, but the brilliance had quite left his eyes.

“Well,” Fingon said at last. “I needed to tell you that. You should know that you were never – not only – you were wanted very much."

Beloved ineloquent Fingon, &c.

They were some miles from the beach when Gil-galad said, “‘Ours’?”

“Yes."

I was trying to let the gaps and breaks talk for me in the text. Under-writing.

The beginning was full of these little breaks, too, because they didn't yet know how to talk to each other; now at the end, that connection, and their conversations, are breaking down again. It's echoing that ride together at the beginning very strongly, but now it's not Gil-galad trying to become acquainted and Fingon giving light, unsatisfying answers. These are the real questions/answers at last, and the whole story has really been about getting to the point of Fingon and Gil-galad in Aman where they actually could have the kind of conversation Gil-galad was trying to have at the start.

Some miles further, Fingon said, “Did you ever meet him in Beleriand? After I died. I always wondered.”

“No,” Gil-galad said.

It didn’t seem like he was going to speak again, and Fingon had begun to assimilate that knowledge, that pain – that Maedhros had never seen him, had only ever known him through Fingon’s own eyes – when he added,

“But I saw what he did. Have you ever seen a whole city ruined, and known the ruiners to be Elves? It wasn’t even a city, poor Sirion! It was a refuge, a place for the desperate, as far to the West as they could get, as close to the safety of the Sea. They had so very little. No great stone palaces, no towers, no spires. Little enough fresh food. They were able to grow so little, and they lived on fish, and sea-weed, and what brave hunting parties would bring back; and hope. They lived on hope, and they thought Elwing wore it around her throat, but the Valar didn’t come for them: Maedhros Fëanorion and his brothers did instead, and they burned and killed and ravaged. I’d say they salted the earth, but it was salt already. To fall on any innocent Elven city would be a horror: on poor Sirion it was the greatest cruelty I ever saw, and entirely pointless."

They said nothing more.

I like this, too, actually. You see a little here of why Gil-galad might be healthily sceptical of the Valar - they didn't come for them: Maedhros Feanorion and his brothers did instead - and that very post-war experience of seeing a descrated, destroyed town. Worse when you had seen it when it was whole, when you knew the dead and fled.

Sirion is, I think, the worst thing the Feanorions did. I find it worse than even Doriath or Alqualonde (though they're all awful!). These were desperate survivors, huddled together at the edge of the sea for protection. So many of their leaders had been killed or lost. Idril and Tuor had disappeared; Earendil was away; Maedhros and the others struck while only Elwing was there, and she was so young, and so alone, and so damaged already by what they'd done in Doriath. And now they’d come again. There's something about the revictimisation that gets me. It's awful.

I wanted it to be weight and counter-weight - that soft, painful, remembered moment of Maedhros seeing baby Gil-galad through Fingon's eyes, something Fingon has clearly not deliberately thought about since he was reborn, but dredges up now for Gil-galad, because he should know: and which is echoed in the beginning by Fingon's question to Finrod. But Maedhros is still the person who did the things he did, and I wanted to set that soft moment of truth against his deeds at Sirion, another truth, to point out clearly why Gil-galad would recoil so hard from this offering, this honesty Fingon wants to be able to give him. This is the dichotomy at the heart of the story: reconciling Maedhros and how one felt for him with what he did, and how one feels about that. It is irresolvable, at least for Fingon, at least at the moment I've ended it at for now.

I don't know if this is quite what you wanted, @warrioreowynofrohan, especially because like I said, I wrote this story in a frantic fog, but I hope this in some way suffices!

#not!fic

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tsumuniri · 3 years

Text

━━━ Atsumu Miya is a free-loader. Living inside his twin brother's home as if it was his, he would bring home girls and annoy Osamu most of the time. Y/N L/N is quite the opposite apparently because she's a virgin loser. Being the popular anonymous BL mangaka known as Yamazaki, she stays in the homey abode of her parents and watches boys from afar for references (not for admiration sadly).

Now what will happen if fate decided to tie these two idiots together and made them live across each other in one apartment?

。m.list ❯❯ prev┃next

ONE ━━ THE TWIN BROTHER’S DECISION

"SO THAT'S THE TEA?"

You nodded dejectedly and raised the Tuna Mayo Onigiri in the direction of your mouth. You bit into the delicious rice snack, humming in delight as the saucy and sweet flavors of tuna cheered you up just for a slight bit. "They said that a girl my age shouldn't be living with her parents and should finally get a guy instead of drawing an imaginary one. You know that they're old school, Mai." You said, mouth full of rice bits and tuna.

The female ran her fingers through her short bright red hair. "Well, you are 25 now, and you haven't got a boyfriend since middle school," She propped her elbow on top of the round wooden table, resting her chin on her palm. "But they should've told you beforehand, right? How are you supposed to look for a residence in a short span of time?" She asked and watched you devour the onigiri meal with such ease. Her black-colored eyes held an uncertain expression as Mai was concerned for her colleague and friend.

After hearing the unfortunate news directly from your loving parents, your mind had to process the sudden information for two solid minutes. The first person you thought of to call is your closest friend, Mai, your roommate back at art school and a mangaka in the shounen industry. Although the two genres have completely different backgrounds, you two are stuck together like peas in a pod through the grace and glory of fawning over 2d men.

Ain't that great?

"They said I could stay back for two weeks until I could find a place to move in. I still have nine days to move out. And as for the residence part..."

You rummaged through the leather bag slung over your shoulder and took out a creased brochure of a newly built apartment based in the heart of east Osaka with its breathtaking cherry blossom conifers and pious shrines. The leaflet's minimalistic design delineated the idiosyncratic architectural structure of the tall building on the front page. Anybody could tell that this jointly owned establishment may settle for tenants with stable incomes.

For someone who changed the BL archives with her plot-driven works, Y/N could provide the fees to rent a homey room on the clabber-plastered apartment complex.

Mai shifted on her seat and studied the brochure on the table with interest— crossing her legs and leaning her torso forward to get a full view of the given pamphlet. "The building does seem promising. You could even check out your works in the Manga Shops at the city." She remarked as her eyes skimmed through the brochure, taking note of the facilities and rooms for the future tenants.

"Right? I already checked the place out yesterday, and coincidentally, the studio office is close by," The H/C-haired female pushed back the tiny strands of baby hair tickling her forehead as it was annoying her smooth skin. "They even allow pets. The apartment buildings I visited mostly don't allow pets, and the others who do, they have weird-ass tenants whom I don't really wanna be neighbors with." She ended, scratching the back of her neck.

"Soooooo, that's the apartment you're planning to move in."

You nodded your head, "I prepared the papers and told my parents about it. Maybe you can help me move my things out?" You suggested to your friend as your leg overlapped with the other, biting into another piece of onigiri from the porcelain plate.

Tilting her head to the side, Mai let out a light scoff from the BL mangaka's proposition as she gestured her hand downwards. "I'm offended, Y/N! Of course, I'll help you." She expressed her whimsical disbelief through her words. "I thought we were best of friends." The young lady teased.

"After all those collab fan arts of the Akatsuki, why wouldn't we be at this point?" You joked; however, the shinobi anime reference wasn't technically a gag as you both had a history of fangirling over the smexy criminal organization— even if you both had a peculiar taste in men. "By the way, why did you choose this place? Isn't this sort of far away from your workplace?" You questioned the red-haired female, a bit curious on why she decided to meet up with you in this Onigiri Restaurant.

Mai's lips turned up into a smirk as she motioned her finger for you to move closer. "My assistants and I decided to eat here after a hard day's work. By the time we were all seated, our eyes got blessed when the restaurant's owner catered to our table!" She whispered with excitement dipped on her tongue.

"Oh boy, if you had seen him, you would've gotten the inspiration to make a character from his well-sculpted face."

You raised a brow and let out a snortle, "We went here because a hot owner caught your attention? I should've gone with you then." You played along and couldn't help but laugh at your friend's reason for dining out a distance away from her studio office.

Like middle schoolers, you both giggled as Mai continued her story of the dashing Onigiri restaurant owner with her witty play of words. You never had any interest in dating; however, you still bid no mind to your friend's fawning over pretty men who would unlikely pay attention to either of them.

"That owner you're talking about might not visit his restaurant, Mai."

"I know, silly! But I do wonder what that work of art does outside his work."

Osamu is a very patient man. May it be through his responsibility of running an Onigiri business, or may it be just a simple waiting in line at the subway station of Tokyo, the male wouldn't lose his temper nor be frustrated over such trivial things.

But when his exhausted figure slugged inside the comforts of his home and found the living room all trashed with empty bottles of energy drinks and bags of chips, Osamu was finally at his breaking point.

"Atsumu, you mother-fucker... COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT!" He burst out, calling out his twin brother's name as he began picking up the trashes scattered throughout his coffee table and his lawson couch. His ears caught the sound of loud footsteps thumping on the wooden-tiled floor as he could immediately tell that it was a certain someone who came down the stairs.

A bed of ruffled blonde hair popped out of the stairway as a certain setter casually jumps into the scene of the untidy crime, walking towards the other twin with open arms.

"Welcome home, Samu! Did your staff make a mistake in the newly-opened shop back at Shinjuku? You look a bit frustrated right now-"

Atsumu stopped himself once he noticed his twin brother standing over the mess he forgot to clean up. His arms dropped to the side while his chocolate eyes shifted over to Osamu's annoyed expression, "Okay. This time, I absolutely forgot to clean up." The male tried to explain himself.

The quiet one of the two shook his head in disapproval, sighing out and pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his fiery nerves. "I found this apartment, Tsumu. I think it's best for the both of us if you could finally get your own place." He stated, hearing the slight choke coming from his brother's throat.

"WHAT?! What made you think that this would be the best for the both of us, Samu?" Atsumu protested, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as to why his brother would suggest that sort of idea.

Osamu raised his hand and lifted three of his fingers to his twin's eye level. "First, you sometimes disrupt my sleep whenever you'd bring your flings at home," He stated and didn't bother to let the other speak their mind about the issue at hand as he continued his statement of reasons. "Second, you'd sometimes forget to do your lists of chores and often lie that you didn't do them because you were tired from training." He paused for a moment, thinking of a third reason until it clicked in the back of his mind.

"Lastly, you're a 23 professional athlete, who makes a lot of money than what I usually make, and yet, you're living with your twin brother."

Atsumu stared at Osamu as he crossed his arms, "So? You'll kick me out if I don't move out of your place?" He derided, his voice mostly holding a hint of teasing as he knew his brother wouldn't act so rashly over those reasons.

Oh, was the male so wrong.

"Yes, Tsumu. I'm kicking you out."

#haikyuu x you #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#atsumu is a cutie #atsumu fluff #atsumubrainrot #atsumu fic #atsumu x female reader #msby atsumu #atsumu miya #hq atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #msby sakusa #msby #miya osamu #ishiwrites #haikyuu fic

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theninjamouse · 4 years

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3, 12, 40? With the shoregrillster trio? In any combination you like

3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

40. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

This is going under a cut because one, it got hecking long and two, it got mildly SPICY. Nothing explicit but you have been warned

Parties are....they’re supposed to be at least a little fun, right?

When it was announced that Gaster’s work on a new environment friendly, cost effective and all around sick public transportation design had been accepted by the city council, there was also the call to a party to celebrate the occasion. You’re beyond happy for Gaster, for his accomplishments in finally getting more steps taken to integrate monster magic into human technology on a world changing scale.

But holy crap, this party is boring.

Calling it a party at all is being generous. It’s just an excuse for people of ‘classier’ society to act like they’re taking part in something grand and to show off how fancy they are by sipping at cocktails and standing around pretending to care about what the other party goers bring up for conversation. But it is an important part of getting full funding for the project, as well as schmoozing up to anyone who might open up lanes for future development, so here you all are.

The majority people here are humans that you don’t recognize in the slightest aside from the occasional ‘oh it’s...that guy. Yeah’. There are a handful of monsters from the science and tech division all involved on the project. They’re mostly keeping to themselves, nervously socializing as little as possible.

Sans was here at some point. You don’t doubt he’s snuck off to find a corner to snooze in, if he hasn’t left the party outright at this point.

Lucky jerk.

However, you will admit, there is an upside to this whole thing. Gaster is not usually one to dress up. At least, not in any level aside from his beloved lab coat that you highly doubt contains more than a scrap of the original material thanks to all the repairs that have had to be done on it.

He’s been talked out of the lab coat and is instead wearing an utterly dashing three piece suit of the deepest purple you’ve ever seen captured by fabric. From the distance between where you’re leaning up against a pillar to rest your feet and him being caught in a circle of engineering heads pelting him with questions, the suit looks black until he shifts and the light catches the lines of shimmering purple.

You sip appreciatively at your drink, eyes taking in the way the suit fits his skeletal frame. Perhaps the night won’t be so boring after all.

“He cleans up really good,” you muse as the air to your left grows warm. “Almost makes the feral cat fuss he made about getting in the suit worth it.”

“Says you; I had to actually drag him out of bed while you were in the shower. He actually tore holes in my sheets.” Grillby leans against the wall as well, offering you a plate of ‘fancy people food’ he snagged from one of the wandering waiters.

Ah, you were wondering about those. You take a piece, not exactly sure what the heck it even is and pop it in your mouth. Your expression twists. “How is it that rich people food always looks so good but tastes like sour air and dried regret?”

“I’m still working that out myself.” Grillby finishes off the plate and sighs.

You shift your gaze to Grillby. He too is dressed to the nines, with a deep red button up, a black and gold trimmed waistcoat and matching tie. He always looks good of course but damn if his snazzy outfit isn’t making the worst kind of butterflies flutter in your belly.

“I’ll make us something actually substantial when we get home,” he continues, oblivious to your less than pure gaze skimming over him.

“If Gaster hasn’t imploded by that point.” The poor guy is fidgeting like crazy. It’s difficult for him to be around so much noise and fuss, this you know from experience.

Grillby looks at you, gaze sharpening a bit as his eyes trail over your outfit. Said outfit for the night is a deep blue one piece, sleeveless suit dress. The smooth material hugs your frame just enough to offer a hint at the form underneath and is blanketed by a sheer capelet that rests over your bare shoulders and gathers together at your waist with a thick belt.

The intensity of Grillby’s staring sends a delightful thrill of heat up your spine. “I guess I clean up alright too,” you murmur, brows lifting teasingly.

“’Nice’ is not quite the word I’d use.” He’s moved closer, plate of food discarded and hand rising to rest rather low on your hip. “Ravishing. Tempting. Something like that.” His head has tilted down, eyes fixated on your mouth.

You pull a goofy face at him, because if you don’t, you’re pretty sure your face will burst under the growing blush in your cheeks. “That’s me, the ultimate temptation.”

He’s not deterred by your teasing. He merely glances around just enough to see if anyone is currently looking your way before his grip tightens and he presses a warm kiss to your lips. It’s soft and gentle and a smile easily comes to your face as you kiss him chastely back.

Then-oh his mouth opens, and you quite forget about your boredom and the fact that your feet are killing you and the taste of bland rich people food on your tongue because Grillby tastes so much better. Your hands rise, gripping the edges of his waistcoat, pulling him closer to you and he makes a sound deep in his throat that urges your mouth to move faster, go deeper-

A laugh rings out, clear and far too close and Grillby jumps like he’s been shocked, pulling away with an eruption of blue over his face. Both of you guiltily look over towards the noise but it would seem that it was just someone laughing at a point in conversation. No one is staring in aghast mortification at the social faux pas.

A little breathlessly, you giggle. “Wow, how scandalous of you. We’re out in the open and everything.”

He shoots you a heated look. “You kissed me back.”

“You used tongue, you cheater!”

He flushes a brighter blue, but you can’t help but notice that his hand remains firmly on your hip. This isn’t fair, stupid party, stupid crowd….

An idea sparks in your heat addled brain. A dumb idea but, well, you’re rather past the point of caring too much.

You press up closer to him again, eyes darting out over the crowd for the briefest moment. You dance your fingers up his buttons. “Why don’t we go rescue Gaster? I think we could all use a... social recharging?”

He blinks and the soft “oh” that escapes him when he realizes what you’re getting at gets your ears burning.

But he doesn’t say no. In fact, he simply nods quickly, steps back and offers you his arm, which you gratefully take. Heels suck and your ankles are not pleased with you. “You want to take the lead?”

“Absolutely,” you say with only a touch of a manic grin actually reaching your face.

Gaster looks on the verge of whipping into a ranting frenzy or throwing an actual punch as the two of you approach. The human speaking to him is going on about engine semantics or something. Incorrectly, going by the promise of violence glinting in Gaster’s eye sockets.

“Pardon me,” you say with syrupy sweetness, cutting off the man speaking. All heads turn, faces going blank with subdued irritation at the interruption. “I need to borrow the good doctor for a bit. Doctor Gaster?”

Gaster inclines his head. “Excuse me,” he says with the sincerity of a child apologizing for stealing cookies. You swap to hold onto his arm and let him sweep you out of the ballroom, Grillby following on your heels.

“You are an angel,” Gaster groans. “Those imbeciles were trying to convince me to add in ‘a profitable angle’ to the design. Pigs.”

“I think that’s an insult to pigs.” You carefully look him over. “Are you holding up okay?”

He sighs heavily, coming to a stop out in the hallway where the only person present is a coat attendant lost in a book.

“Objectively, yes” he says, rubbing at his skull. “I just wish Asgore did not insist on me staying and playing nice with these people.”

“Sounds like it’s just been a big pain.”

Grillby tugs on your arm.

“It is!” Gaster proclaims, sweeping his free arm back towards the ballroom. “Vultures! Well…most of them are, there was actually a rather fascinating young man who had his facts mixed up but the core of his idea was not a bad one—”

Grillby tugs harder.

“Mmhm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows at Grillby. Just because you can, you let your tongue dart out over your lips for the briefest of moments.

He looks as frustrated as a fire could possibly be. Were the coat attendant not glancing up over the edge of his book, he probably would have scooped the two of you up and gone to work right there.

“Uh, is something wrong?” Gaster, finally noticing the agitated flick of Grillby’s flames, looks between the two of you.

“Well, we’re both kind of…hmm, how to be nice about it…bored? Sorry,” you pat Gaster’s arm. “I know it’s your special night.”

“That’s fine, I’m quite bored myself,” Gaster says dryly.

��Oh perfect!” you chirp brightly. You glance to Grillby and smile slyly. “We had a thought about how to recharge our batteries. As it were.”

Not for the first time, Gaster displays an impressive ability to give the look of raising eyebrows without any actual, yanno, eyebrows. “Do tell?”

“It’s not really a tell so much as a show-oop!”

Grillby’s run out of patience. His hands land on both yours and Gaster’s backs, urging you forward and down the hall. The coat attendant is very pointedly Not Looking as you pass by. Grillby must have done recon or something when you first got here because he seems to know exactly where he’s heading. He takes you down a small flight of stairs and round a corner that leads to a small room that’s empty save for a few boxes stacked against one wall and some unused furniture.

And just your luck, it’s unlocked.

Going by the rising purple on Gaster’s face, he’s caught on to what exactly your ‘recharging’ idea is. “Uh-um, yes I—”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to say it earlier.” Your arm slips smoothly away from his and you turn to him. You have to lift up a bit on your tip toes and pull him down to you to press a kiss against his cheekbone. “You look very handsome tonight. And we are your dates to this thing, and yet we haven’t hardly had a chance to even talk to you.”

Gaster’s blush is now bright enough to nearly compete with Grillby’s flames.

Speaking of Grillby-

He’s moved in behind you, hands dropping to your waist as his mouth descends down on your neck. The heat of his body and fire presses against your back and you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

Gaster’s eye lights have gone wide and bright, flickering with a nervous sort of energy as his gaze darts between you and Grillby. He swallows, though he really has no need for it. “I…this isn’t really the best…what if someone sees…?”

“Then you better move fast,” you murmur. Tugging on his tie, you pull his face down closer. “Kiss me,” you demand breathlessly. “Please?”

There’s a moment where his eye lights shift in such a way it almost looks like they’ve taken on the shape of stars and then Gaster’s hands lift to your face, nearly bonking your nose with his teeth with the speed at which he kisses you. Kissing a skeleton is difficult sometimes, given his lack of lips.

But you’ve had plenty of practice.

One of your hands shifts to pull Gaster closer to you while the other desperately scrambles behind to find purchase on Grillby. His own hands are quite busy, one running gentle circles on your hip and the other moving up, closer to where your chest is pressed up against Gaster’s ribs. His fangs scrape deliciously at your skin, nipping lightly in a way that makes you squirm with a mixture of ticklishness and building heat.

Your hand finds Gaster’s spine, prominent even through his suit and you grab on just below where his ribs end. He jolts at the contact, a breathless curse falling out in a rush of air. Grillby takes the chance to pull away from your neck and captures Gaster’s attention with a heated kiss.

Now quite solidly squished between the two, a soft and breathless noise escapes you as you drink in the building pressure of their bodies, basking in the contrast of Gaster’s silk smooth suit and Grillby’s growing heat. His hands continue to work at your curves, every touch sending a searing wave of warmth over your skin, kneading with a gentle intensity that makes you arch into Gaster.

You have just enough presence of mind left to sputter, “D-don’t tear the capelet.”

He growls, low and deep and oh if that rough and wild sound from such a restrained monster doesn’t make the most embarrassing shuddery moan hum in your own throat. “Take it off then,” he suggests with a tug at the belt around your waist.

So off it comes, fluttering down the floor, soon joined by Grillby’s more carefully folded waistcoat. Then you find yourself being pulled back, led by him to an armchair covered in a cloth. The force of him sitting makes a heavy whumph sound thanks to your added weight on his lap.

Gaster had let the two of you slip from his grasp while the extra bits of clothing were being discarded and he watches you now with a face openly full of warm affection. When you grin and beckon at him with a finger, he huffs out a sigh that is probably meant to be taken as annoyed, but just comes off as fond and longing.

“You two are going to get me in trouble,” he grumbles. “There is a party I’m supposed to be at right now just down the hall, or did you forget?”

Grillby, busy at work pressing scorching kisses over your bare shoulders, pauses and lifts his head. “So eager to get back, are you?”

“Not at all. But I’ll be missed if I stay away much longer.”

You sigh heavily, letting your weight lean back against Grillby’s chest. You might just happen to let your hand trail down to your thigh and lightly run your fingers over the fabric there as you pout at Gaster.

He’s broken out into a bit of a sweat.

Sweetly, you plead, “Five more minutes?”

He stares. He sweats. Then his hand smoothly tugs at his tie and it and his coat joins the other outwear on the ground. “Five more minutes.”

It winds up being six minutes and forty-two seconds but well.

Who’s counting?

#gaster #grillby #gaster/grillby/reader #grillby/reader #gaster/reader #undertale #oh boy oh boy #this got away from me #a little spice for you #i suppose i might be convinced to uh expand on this #maybe if there's enough interest #OoF extra #kissing prompts

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