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kemosabeko · 10 months

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RE Actor AU!

I thought I could hide it but I really can't anymore

*this is mostly about wesker but will I apologize? Nah. Imma do my own thing.

A/N: these are very, VERY self-indulgent

Warnings: None, just fluff and crack

Also this is my first post in Tumblr so idk how do texts/posts works in here :p

This was created because my current hyperfixation rn is wesker (YES)

You'd think with his role he'd be uptight and quite the serious actor. Yknow those types.

Oh boy oh boy would you look at that. He just brought another coffee for everyone on set.

MF LITERALLY IS ONE, IF NOT THE MOST, KINDEST PERSON YOU'LL MEET.

Always there to help crews moving their things, especially the heavy ones like camera.

Helps fellow actors with their script and scene.

But the most noteworthy trait of his is being a family man.

WOFJWISHJS GODDD HOLD ON

He literally SHOWS OFF his twins to his co-workers.

Everyone is a victim

"Chris look at this. They're walking"

"Yeah you showed that to me like five times alr-"

"they're WALKING"

Okay biggest victims are Chris and Leon

Jill and Chris are people who entered the industry the same time as Albert and has worked on multiple projects with each other. Hence, their closeness.

Now back to the general cast

Chris and Claire are literally siblings in real life

This franchise is actually Ada's first acting role in the industry! Which immediately became a huge boom to her career, which she didn't expect.

She was actually originally working as a stunt woman, but one time a manager suggested her to do acting after seeing her try to double a character since the original actor was sick, and she couldn't be more thankful that she took the risk.

She's very skilled in martial arts!

She and Albert are some of the few casts that don't do double-stunts.

Leon is a child actor starting from the age of 7.

Came from a very wealthy (aristocratic) family

ABSOLUTELY IDOLIZES ALBERT

Y'know that one story of Tom Holland when he talked about RDJ and was absolutely stunned when he entered the set?

Yep. That's literally Leon on his first day on set.

Look. He's worked with a lot of big shot names. Cate Blanchett, Robert De Niro, Morgan Freeman, Nicole Kidman, you name it!

But has he ever worked with this man with basically a face and body carved by the greek gods themselves, slicked back hair, and possibly the smoothest and healthiest skin ever, who's basically his entire fucking idol and goal to work with? NO!

So why, should he NOT FREEZE UP when he finally met him on set?

Albert saw a blonde, handsome boy sticking out like a sore thumb from the entrance of the set. He quickly realizes that this is the actor they cast for the protagonist. He walks up to them and smiled warmly.

"Hey! we got a new face around here. You must be Leon Kennedy right? Nice to meet you! I'm Albert Wesker"

He stretched out his hand to shake with him, but all Leon could think was

"oh my god... it's ALBERT FUCKING WESKER"

Poor blondie basically stopped working for a few seconds, before he realized how stupid he looked and was on his way to ruin his first impression.

He quickly snapped out of his shock and went to shake his hands and OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO SMOOTH AND WARM AND HIS SMILE--

Had to take a breather when he went to his tent after that encounter.

After that and throughout the shooting, they became closer and eventually became close friends

Which is how Albert met you but that's for another story.

Carlos has a HUGE and I mean, simp level of huge, crush on Jill.

This man really was the real smooth operator cause when he heard that Jill, together with a male character, will be the MC for the third franchise? Oh this man was on a MISSION.

Immediately auditioned and prepared for the role like his life was on the line (on his defense, it was)

The first to hear about this was Chris.

Which he then gossiped to Albert.

To which they both supported Carlos by giving him tips about what Jill likes, hates, her fave foods, her favorite movies, all of that and etc.

CHRIS AND ALBERT #1 VALEVEIRA SHIPPER 💯

Literally had them plotting the most insane shits for a date

Thankfully, their shenanigans bear fruit after a year when Jill finally accepted him as her boyfriend.

Man was so over the moon, he deadass called the other two in the middle of the night to talk about what happened.

Albert was NOT happy being interrupted in his sleep, but decided to let it slide hearing the joy in the younger man's voice.

After all, he wasn't so different when the same thing happened to him with you.

Oh also, did I ever mention that Albert ADORES children?

Which is why he found Sherry so cute! Even though she plots pranks with Leon and Claire occasionally.

Throughout the years, they have become absolutely close friends that they consider each other as family (I'm starting to hear Dom Toretto)

Leon and Ada also eventually became a couple after years of painful pining (the rest of the cast and crew had to suffer witnessing their years of pining for each other)

They often do a late night chats with each other, sometimes they do IG live together when everyone's free.

The fans ABSOLUTELY eats them up because it's their source of meme and crack content from the cast.

The Behind The Scenes were filmed by almost all of them, or whoever wants to.

Tons of them are Chris tripping over almost everything.

Claire trying her stunts and being extremely proud when she successfully does one without her double.

Carlos just playfully punching and having beef with the camera.

It also includes Albert teaching Ada some stunts on how to do them better and more safely, and vice-versa.

And then you got Luis, Ashley, and Leon straight up doing a mukbang ASMR for one of their BTS (they failed horribly cause they, especially Luis, can't stop laughing)

Luis tries teaching Ashley spanish but eventually gave up. But after a few months, Ashley came up to him and said in almost perfect spanish "soy un raton rubio"

Loverboy felt like a proud parent he started singing out of nowhere.

*I feel like I really have so much more to put but maybe I've finally exhausted my ideas so here they are!

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morvantmortuary · 8 months

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Sorry to hear you've had a rough day. Sending you good vibes and virtual hugs 🖤🖤🖤

thank you for this, darling, I super appreciate you thinking of me 🥰

some of it was honestly funny in hindsight? like, the two campus buses I have to take to get to work somehow stretched my commute into an hour each way

…I live ten minutes from my office 🙃

then I sent this job listing I really liked to the director of our professionalization committee for this year, which I knew wasn’t my exact specialization but I have other circumstances that made me think it would work, only for the director to explain I would be a super duper long shot (if I was considered at all) bc they’re actually looking for an MFA student but they didn’t outright say it in the listing

did I mention I switched to applying for my phd five years ago even though I originally wanted an mfa, I somehow thought a phd would be more practical

so then I went looking through all the job app websites I’m signed up for, and while I found a lot of openings for other specializations (ukrainian lit, italian lit, pre-1000 bce), I found maybe one or two for what’s considered the most general application of what I do

and they were both for military academies :’D which I really, uh, don’t want to work at

so then I was like “okay, boot and rally, it’s gonna be fine, let’s just finally get the committee together” and sent out an email being like “hey guys we still haven’t decided on a date to meet and it’s like month 2 of the semester, how about [x day]” bc I’m feeling really unsteady about my dissertation and I’m under a lot of pressure from my dad to finish as soon as possible, so I’ve been trying to get ahold of them for weeks now it feels like

only for my new chair to immediately be like “nope sry”

so then I got home (an hour later) (I still only live ten minutes away) and realized that I think my best friend since I was little forgot to send me a birthday present when she usually always remembers

which she’s not obligated to do obviously, we’re both adults and she’s had some stuff going on, but between that and the fact that the two friends whom I supported through their dissertation/defense periods have just, like, left - one is on the other side of the world, one might as well be - I just got feeling very lonely :’D as much as I love all my friends in my phone, it’s just kind of hard sometimes in meatspace. no one else in my family has been to graduate school before (hell, I’m the second person in my immediate family to graduate from college and the first to not fail out temporarily in the process) and sometimes I feel weird talking to my non-grad irl friends bc they treat me like I’m still in college/don’t have a real job yet (they don’t mean to, it’s just how people think of grad school in the states), so. yeah.

…and then the scary possession movie I rented to feel better turned out to be a conservative religious propaganda movie in disguise, which was just the cherry on top

(that’s the last time I rent a movie without checking imdb first)

but then the next day was better: my committee chair swung by my desk himself (we work across the hall from one another) and hung out and talked me through some of my biggest worries for a bit (and even said he liked my chapter, which was amazing bc I was afraid it was hot garbage), and my boss was really nice and gave me some cake balls from the local bakery for a belated birthday present (I can’t eat them due to food allergies but the thought counts!!), and I actually drove myself to work instead of taking one of the buses, which shouldn’t be a big deal but is for me bc I hate driving anywhere after a bad accident I had a few years ago :’D then my committee members emailed me like “hey how about next week!!” and I was like “oh phew okay” and found out one of them hasn’t been avoiding me, he’s just on teaching leave for the semester lmao (he’d sent me comments first and I hadn’t seen him since, so I was like “omg was it that bad” even though his comments were fairly chill) so I guess my lesson for the week is that I just need to be patient and let things work out

…then this morning I woke up with a migraine :’D but it’s not the worst one I’ve had so far, so. it evens out I guess!!

anyway, sorry to hurgle all this at you after your super nice ask, it’s just been A Lot. if you read this far, you’re a saint and I love you 😂🖤

cheers to the rest of this week looking better!! hopefully!!! knock on wood!!!

#nice people!!#sarah! 🖤#and then rarae says #feat. my fcs for illustrative purposes

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onceuponalegendbg-rwby · 1 year

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RWBY Retrospective - Volume 1

So, Volume 1 had a lot to prove when it was airing, and in the end, it serves as an interesting time capsule for the series overall. No longer were they dealing with trailers that could be as vague as they wanted with amazing action set pieces and incredible music. Now CRWBY had to get the audience invested in its world and characters. It’s a tough job for any first season of any show.

A word that comes to mind when looking back on this volume is, if you’ll forgive the cliché, Innocence. The central conflicts contain themselves on a smaller scale, lulling the audience into its high school/college age hijinks. There’s not a high sense of danger when dealing with the likes of Roman Torchwick or Cardin Winchester. The argument can be made that the Emerald Forest initiation has the big Nevermore/Deathstalker fight midway through the season but that falls more into the category of flashy spectacle. You’re more likely to get wrapped up in the hype of the moment than worry about the safety of any of the characters.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, however. It’s not uncommon for shows to allow for this type of comfort so that the audience has more time to get attached to and acquainted with the characters and have some fun with them before everything hits the fan.

The biggest problem for Volume 1 lies with the constraints RWBY had to deal with as it was starting out. The budget for the series was not much. The production and animation team at the company were also significantly small.

RWBY’s first outing as an actual show, because of this, consists of mostly four-to-five-minute two parter episodes with the occasional twelve-to-fifteen-minute episode sprinkled in at specific points. And it’s due to this that the pacing of the season suffers a bit. Things like how some arcs, that would normally be wrapped up in one or two weeks, get stretched out to four. But the opposite is also true. Some plot points that might have needed more time to breathe don’t get that and can end up feeling incredibly rushed, leaving some moments of character development feeling unearned. It’s this balancing act that the show hadn’t quite figured out at the time, and also did not have the tools to handle.

The characters, while still hinting at their deeper personalities, never truly leave their stereotypical molds this volume. Honestly, some of the main cast don’t get much screen time to begin with. However, I can’t say they don’t all play their roles well, allowing the audience to get more acclimated to the world and tone the series starts out with. Much like the voice acting they are serviceable for the passion project this all started out as and have plenty of room for growth and improvement.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least touch on the art style of the show. RWBY starts out being animated in Poser and due to limitations of the software and not many people being trained in how to use it, any NPC is made into a Shadow Person. The characters themselves are very stiff in their movements and there’s not much for lip flap animation. Objects clip through other objects or people. The color saturation is blinding at points, especially on characters like Weiss who mostly consist of a white color palette. Backgrounds are, for the most part, very flat looking.

Despite these critiques, or maybe because of them, it was clear that Volume 1 had people behind it who undoubtedly loved what they were making. It felt ambitious and passionate.

Of course, Monty’s action was never disappointing, and the Williams Family’s music was a definite highlight. There were also moments where the voice acting could bring out a genuine, heartfelt emotion. The season had such charm and warmth to it. Looking back, it’s not hard to feel endeared to the show’s humble beginnings.

Some General and Unfiltered Thoughts

I’m not entirely proud of how this one came out. I still feel like I was far too mean to V1.

I had a hard time trying to be objective in this one. I have such a soft spot for the early volumes of RWBY but it’s hard not to at least acknowledge some of its less than great aspects for this project.

The animation is rough due to Poser but the action is, if I can beat a dead horse here, absolutely stunning. Not all the dialogue has aged well, but then you have the moment with Jaune where he talks about being an idiot stuck in a tree and Miles’ voice acting made me cry. Jeff and his team never miss. The animators even use the Shadow People for some fun little jokes. Like Jaune saying “where am I going to find another nice, quirky girl to talk to” and when he steps away you just see Pyrrha standing there… clearly an important character amongst the Shadows. Clearly nice and quirky. It’s just… Stuff like that is so fun. Volume 1 is so fun!

It’s rough at points and it has obvious flaws, but I don’t mind re-watching it. It’s so charming! Volume 1 is fine, we’re all just mean!

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #long post #I have no idea what I'm doing #thank you crwby #rwby positive #i'm going to regret posting this one #i can feel it #this is what i get for trying be objective and professional sounding #what have i done #greenlight volume 10 #retrospective

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multismutsblog · 1 year

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Stiles x Derek

In hindsight, Stiles' sensitivity to even something so tame as being touched should've been obvious.

The kid's always shown an affinity for physical contact - he's always been the first to initiate hugs or suggest pack cuddles, and he's always greeted his dad and all of his friends with high fives, hugs, shoulder bumps.

It's pretty obvious that Stiles has always been an affectionate person. Even in the months after the Nogitsune, when he grew quieter and more conservative with his touches, it was obvious he still craved the comfort of physical contact, reaching out automatically before drawing back, unusually fearful of rejection.

So Derek knew Stiles liked being touched; he just hadn't been prepared for how much.

The first time Derek finds out just how sensitive Stiles is, it's unintentional. Or, unplanned, to be more accurate.

It's early summer, and the pack has collected again after their first year at college. Most of them had stayed close, gone to community colleges or colleges in nearby towns; close enough for weekend trips home, or within range for Derek to not feel the tug of pack bonds being stretched too far from the territory.

Except for Lydia and Stiles, who had strayed a little further, to UCLA and Berkeley respectively. Of course, Jackson had trailed after Lydia, and they'd made trips back home frequently: every full moon, Thanksgiving, winter break, birthdays, spring break.

Stiles, on the other hand, hasn't been back in Beacon Hills since winter break, and the distance has obviously affected them all.

He spends his first day home catching up with his dad, naturally. Scott and Mellissa force him and the Sheriff over for dinner his second night home, and then Isaac and Erica demand his undivided attention for his third day back.

The fourth day, Derek has grown irritated by the pack scent having become faint on Stiles, and coerces him into a not-gentle scentmarking session - he'll let the pack pile him into a cuddle puddle later to reinforce it, but right now he needs Stiles drenched in his scent. His scent's the strongest, carries all of their scents - and even if Stiles isn't a wolf, Derek is still his Alpha. Strictly from a logical standpoint, it just makes sense for Derek to be the first to remark the pack's claim on the boy.

Stiles has barely gotten through the pack house door before Derek has him crowded up against it, a little too eager to refresh the smell of pack and family and home. Stiles doesn't complain, just as eager for the reminder of pack belonging, but he does herd Derek over to the couch, because being pressed into a doorknob by a 200lb brick-bodied werewolf isn't the most comfortable.

Even having grown up a wolf in a family of wolves who didn't care about human things like personal space or boundaries, he generally tries to take these things into consideration around human pack members who might not typically enjoy being crushed and/or mauled - but he can't find the energy to try to control that urge when his pack member hasn't smelled like his in six months. So he immediately pulls Stiles down to straddle his thighs, desperate to be as close as possible, desperate to cover him in pack smell, and Stiles moves willingly, settling close against him.

"You smell like strangers," Derek complains, huffing.

"I know, big guy," Stiles replies, sighing, one hand on the back of Derek's head to urge his face into his neck. "But you have three whole months of me before fall semester. Plenty of time to rub pack smell all over me."

"Not good enough," Derek says, "You have to come back home more often."

Stiles laughs; probably a little at Derek's blatant desperation, and a little at the fact that Derek's nose is tickling him where it's dragging lightly down his neck. "Not all of us can afford gas money for a six-hour round trip drive every weekend, Derek. Do you know how much gas the jeep eats?"

Derek whines. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, Stiles, I can give you the money - just come back. Every month, at least. We need you here."

Stiles sighs and slumps against him; they've had this conversation a dozen times. He has a part-time job, and the money's not great but it's enough for him to survive, as long as his jeep doesn't need repairs, and as long as he doesn't order takeout, or travel off-campus too often.

"You have me for three months, right now, Derek. I'll figure something out, okay. Just keep doing your possessive sniffy thing and we'll worry about that later."

Derek does, happily. He's not careful about it like he would be usually, or like he is with the rest of the pack; he shoves his face into Stiles' throat, rubbing his scruff against Stiles' soft skin, and Stiles lets him do it without making noise about the scratchiness or the aggressive redness he'll be sporting later.

Stiles relaxes into it, goes limp against him, lets Derek tilt his head this way or that to look for unmarked flesh. But then when Derek starts laying teasing nips and bites along his neck and shoulder, he lets out a quiet noise of surprise - Derek doesn't usually bite during scentmarking, but it's been months, and open-mouthed presses work the scent in deeper and longer than just skin-to-skin.

"Sorry," Derek says, though he doesn't sound sorry at all.

"I'm not complaining, just - my neck is sensitive, so careful with the teeth, okay?"

"If you came back home more often," Derek grumbles, "I wouldn't have to be so aggressive about it."

Stiles rolls his eyes, and even though Derek can't see his face where it's pressed into the side of Derek's neck, he's sure he can feel the eyeroll. "Point taken. I'm just saying, don't get carried away with the chewing."

Derek's fingers around his chin tighten, and then there's the distinct feeling of fang-sharp teeth pressing into the hinge of his jaw, anything but gentle. The noise Stiles lets out can't be mistaken for anything other than what it is - a breathy gasp. His fingers flex and clench in the hair at the nape of Derek's neck, and Derek feels the shudder running through Stiles' body against his.

"I'm serious, Derek. Like really sensitive," Stiles says, a little muffled by where he's shoving his face into Derek's shirt.

Derek grunts, lathes his tongue over the spot he's just bitten. He expects Stiles to relax again, but it seems to have the opposite effect; Stiles shivers again, jerks a little forward and then jolts back, like he's not sure if he wants to crawl closer to Derek or pull away completely. Derek solves that for him by tightening the hand on his waist, preventing him from moving back.

"Maybe," Stiles says, voice shakier than it had been a second ago, "maybe just the nose thing, yeah? I-"

Derek growls, drags his nose up Stiles' jaw to just below his ear and nips.

"Derek," Stiles breathes out, and that - that was definitely a moan.

Derek's asshole days are over - for the most part - but he can't deny that he's still a little vicious, especially when it comes to marking what's his, and especially when it produces results like that. So he does it again, a little harder.

Stiles' response is...satisfying. His fingers twitch in his hair again and his hips jump forward just slightly, just enough that Derek comes to the shocking realization that when Stiles' had said his neck was sensitive, he'd been trying to tell Derek that it was apparently a fucking erogenous zone for him, and. Derek can't exactly be expected not to take advantage of that, not with Stiles squirming - closer, not away - in his lap.

And especially not when Derek takes a long, deep, not-subtle sniff, right where his nose is tucked into that spot behind Stiles' ear, and all he can smell is sex, heady and dark and syrupy sweet.

He pulls his mouth away from Stiles' skin - to a very gratifying whine of disappointment - and tips Stiles' head up to get a look at his face.

Which is nothing less than a picture of absolute bliss; eyes closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed - Derek groans at the sight of him.

"Jesus," he grunts, "you weren't lying, huh?"

Stiles opens his eyes, blinks at him - and if Derek had had any doubts of the affect he's been having on Stiles, he doesn't anymore. Stiles' eyes are the definition of bedroom eyes, glassy, pupils dilated, lids half-lowered so his gaze is directed under long eyelashes.

"Derek," Stiles says again, breathless and a little weak, and it sounds just as desperate as Derek feels.

Derek's wolf salivates, and he can't hold back the shiver that goes down his own spine; the boy is heart-stoppingly beautiful like this. He'd always thought he was cute in a quirky, unique way, but even moreso now, a little shy and shaking apart in Derek's arms, under just the press of his mouth against his skin. An Alpha's fucking wet dream, basically.

He feels absolutely no shame at all about his sudden desire to make Stiles come, just like this, in Derek's lap and still fully dressed, with reverent cries of Derek's name on his lips. He's already addicted to the sound of his sweet little moans, the tentative movements of his hips. Derek wants to fucking break him.

"Stiles," he says, his own voice a good octave lower than its usual timbre, "Are you - can I?"

It's not even a whole question, and he's not sure what he was trying to even ask, because he wants everything, but Stiles doesn't seem to care, just as gone on pleasure as he is; he nods, frantic, rolls his hips down unconsciously. Derek wonders, briefly, if Stiles can feel the bulge in his own pants where he's pressed against his crotch.

Not that it matters; Stiles' approval throws him into action again, and Derek doesn't hesitate for a second further before he gets his hands on the hem of Stiles' shirt and practically rips it off, already drooling at the thought of more skin to mark up under his hands, already eager to find out if Stiles is as sensitive everywhere else.

The first thing he does when faced with the new span of skin is press his face right in the hollow of Stiles' throat, between his collarbones. He smells incredible there, like clean sweat and pure Stiles, lemon and sage, and Derek can't help but flick his tongue out and lick a long line up his throat.

Stiles' head tips back with a punched-out moan, and Derek responds with a growl and a firm bite right over his pulse point.

"Can't get enough of your fucking sounds," he groans, following up the bite with a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Now that he's gotten Stiles' permission to continue, he's kind of stuck on the idea of marking him with something a little more visible than scent; something that even humans would be able to see. "I'm keeping you. Forever."

"Should've known you'd be the possessive type," Stiles mutters, but he doesn't jerk back or scramble out of Derek's lap, so Derek's pretty sure he doesn't mind at all.

He drags his hands up Stiles' sides, resting right on either side of his chest, teasingly close to his nipples, and if the way Stiles' grinds down and whines is any indication, Derek was right to think he'd be sensitive there too.

"Fuck," Derek says, "so gorgeous. Can you come like this?"

Stiles hips' grind into his again, a little harder this time, and yeah, Derek thinks, Stiles is totally going to come just like this.

"Probably," Stiles huffs, "keep going and we'll find out."

Derek growls again, reins in his fangs to land a vicious bite just above Stiles' collarbone, absolutely delights in the way Stiles body goes tight, probably already close. He smells close - Derek can smell his pre-come dripping into his jeans; if he could bother to tear his face away from Stiles' skin and look down, he'd probably see the wet patch forming.

He licks over the spot he's just bitten, sucks a bruising kiss there, and then inches his right thumb closer to Stiles' nipple. Doesn't touch it yet, but Stiles squirms, clearly trying to get Derek's thumb closer.

He keeps going, keeps biting and sucking and licking at Stiles' neck and throat and collar like a fucking chew toy, until Stiles' moans turn high and needy and he starts whining and whimpering, and then he finally presses his thumb to Stiles' nipple. Just tentatively, just a brush, but Stiles' hips hump forward and he cries out, so Derek presses harder just as he lands a particularly harsh bite to the meat of his shoulder-

He smells it just before it happens. Stiles' hips jerk forward twice and then he stills, soiling his pants, Derek's name broken on his tongue, and he practically collapses against Derek, shivers of aftershocks rolling through his body.

Derek gentles him through it, as gentle as he can be with the urge to keep Stiles like this forever, and with his own dick obscenely hard against the zipper of his jeans. He pets down Stiles' sides, turns his bites into softer kisses against the blossoming bruises.

It's a few minutes before Stiles gets his brain back online, gazes up at him doe-eyed and fucked-out.

"Oh my god," he says, and he has this deliriously happy grin stretching across his face. "Told you I was really sensitive."

"Yeah," Derek agrees, already planning on spending the next three months exploring Stiles' erogenous zones, "Where else are you sensitive?"

Stiles hides his face back in Derek's neck and groans. "You're gonna ruin me, aren't you?"

Derek presses his palm against Stiles' lower back, soft but firm. Possessive. "Meant it when I said I was keeping you forever."

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mariii-the-shapeshifter · 2 years

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It's Galaxy Fam time, babey!

In my last Venture post, I mentioned that Steve had a certain "character" he wanted to create, and today we're gonna learn about him and his family.

Even though Steve's responsible for the world itself, and he leaves all the sentient stuff to Alex, he wants to try his hand at making a person, so he takes one of the artifacts he created, and makes one out of that. This person wasn't a Steve Arkis like the ones Alex made, but a Starborn (aptly named, as the artifact used to create him was star-shaped, and could only be found in space). Obviously, this Starborn ends up naming himself Galaxy, and thanks to the power of the artifact, he can visit different worlds and create pocket dimensions, as well as use the main powers of the five Arkis types to a small degree.

Since Steve isn't as skilled with creating life as Alex is, Galaxy's first few years of existance are a little strange. He's quite... magically unstable, as powerful as he is, and that instability causes the creation of a couple accidental pocket dimensions and random teleporting to unknown places. Every place he goes to, he leaves a bit of magical energy behind that traces back to Arkion, which leaves him drained after an accidental dimension-hopping episode, but also gives other dimensions the opportunity to create gateways to Arkion and vice-versa, if they're able to find the traces of magic.

Galaxy is eventually able to get a handle on his powers, and now travels to different realms without leaving any magic behind. He gains an appreciation for the worlds he visits, and due to this, the Origins give Galaxy the job to watch over Arkion and the realms surrounding it, and make sure that things are generally going fine. Alex and Steve aren't big fans of interfering with the realm. They like to give power to the people who actually live there, and they were told by The Mystery People that their powers are limited anyway, and they need to conserve them and keep them charged up to keep their realm alive, so giving Galaxy the role of Arkion's guardian was their next best bet.

Of course, this works for a while, but then Galaxy gets overwhelmed with responsibility, and on one particularly stressful day, he loses control of his magic again. The want to enjoy some time without responsibility and the need to take care of Arkion and the surrounding realms literally splits him in half, creating a second Galaxy, or Void, as we come to know him. Void is far more interested in upholding his role as guardian than Galaxy is, and is far more willing to do the more difficult jobs, like cutting off a pocket dimension from Arkion entirely, or, later on in life, even killing off the inhabitants of an especially harmful realm.

Things seem to be going alright-ish for the Starborns. Galaxy gets some time to himself, and Void doesn't seem to be doing anything too bad (especially since the Origins are keeping a close eye on him), but, of course, this doesn't last long. Elder Arkisen are finding easier ways to get the space artifacts to create pocket dimensions, tons of realms have been discovered that still have access to Arkion, and past unrelated nuisances in the realm have started to become actual problems. Void and Galaxy are stretched thin, so they find another space artifact, split it into three pieces, and create new Starborns. Being made out of 1/3 of an artifact, they're less powerful than Galaxy and Void, but still capable of helping out.

Void only uses one of the pieces, as he feels he doesn't need as much help with his task. Galaxy suggests that Void finds a less harmful way to deal with the dangerous realms, and while he will still remove a realm if absolutely necessary, he'll default to having his Starborn son, Memory Renti, erase the memory of the magic traces from the people's minds so they don't do anything with them.

Galaxy takes the other two pieces and creates Time Chrona and Elemental Terren. While Void and Renti are dealing with dimensions that still have Galaxy's magic in it, Galaxy, Chrona, and Terren focus on Arkion and its pocket dimensions. They help out with problems too big for Elders from time to time, but mostly focus on making sure that life and the flow of time aren't messed up on Arkion. This is very much needed, especially now that the Origins are about to announce their temporary absence from Arkion.

This one got super long so Imma have to split it into two parts. Here's part two.

#marii's just talking #mcyt #favremysabre #steve saga #tss venture au #v!alex #v!steve #v!galaxy starborn #v!void starborn #v!chrona starborn #v!terren starborn #v!renti starborn

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lil-pine-mha-drabbles · 2 years

Text

Sugar

Fatgum x Reader

Three hundred follower special.

That is insane!!! Holy crap you guys!! Over 300 followers? I was surprised at 200, you have no idea how psyched I am!

This story took a LOT of time and I am so mentally exhausted over it. I love it, but I also never want to see it again. Lol! I am in LOVE with the idea of reader as a candy maker and I will be playing around with that idea in the future.

TW!! :

Abuse, voice shaming, personality shaming, toxic relationship in general (not Fatgum), not explicit depression.

Read at your own risk.

Stay safe, I love you.

Here are some people who inspire me! @princ3rae and @random-mha-thoughts and! @blossominglark

There are 3196 words to read below the line!

——————————————

“Do you ever stop talking?” Those words were thrown around carelessly with no intention of helping you to become a better person, yet you answered them.

“Why,” you mulled over the question. “I guess I just got excited, I’m sorry.”

“God! It’s fine, just stop talking around me okay? Loud noises give me head aches.” You nodded at the seemingly innocent request. You could trust them. They were your best friend.

— — —

It became harder and harder to talk out loud, the words of your closest friend bouncing through your head.

— — —

“Excuse me?” You tapped your friend’s shoulder lightly.

“What!? I’m trying to tell you about my last trip to the mall and you keep interrupting me! Can you just shut up for five minutes and let me tell you something I’m excited about?” You were stunned by their words. How could you be so selfish? Of course they were telling you something important! Why do you talk so much?

— — —

Boiling sugar was poured onto a metal table for it to cool. You pulled out your “sugar scissors” as you called them, and cut seamlessly through the hot sweetness.

The candy shop’s workers were quiet, the only speaking was done by the families on the other side of the glass. The taffy stretcher named “Chelsea” was whirring in the background noise as you used a metal rod to fold the cooling candy in on itself. You used your gloved hands to stretch the heavy blob into a flatter square.

One of the interesting things about this particular candy shop was that the candy was made without fake flavors. Most taffy makers make a white base then add the flavors and colors, but your family’s shop made candy from real ingredients like chocolate and mint leaves; vanilla and pecans. It was hard work but you had plenty of helpful hands to make it easier.

The door of the shop rang, big footsteps trailed in but you didn’t look away from the sugar you were lifting onto the hard candy roller.

Cries of, “Fatgum! Fatgum!” had you looking up from cutting the candy canes.

The pro hero Fatgum stood in front of the register, now surrounded by children reaching up at him, trying to hug him or be picked up. The big man waved happily at the children and gave autographs to the parents. When his big eyes reached yours, you quickly averted eye contact and looked at the work of cutting and twisting the blue and green canes.

Soon the excitement of a hero slowed and Fatgum was finally able to open his mouth to order.

“I want whatever that beautiful woman over there is making.” His words made you look up to see who he was talking about; your sister or maybe even one of the other employees? But when you lifted your gaze, his finger was pointed at you.

Twelve candy canes, fifty-eight salt water taffies, and three bags of caramel covered pretzels. You didn’t mean to memorize the order but it was one that soon was etched into your brain. Fatgum started visiting your father’s candy shop more often and you saw the tall man’s smiles more often as well.

He ordered the same thing every time and it fascinated you, why didn’t he get tired of the same food all the time? And more over, how did he eat it all so quickly? He was getting close to two visits a week buying the same things!

You walked into the back room and started putting on your uniform. Your thoughts wandered to your best friend and the stories they would tell you. It made you mad that you interrupted people too much. Your mind stopped the avalanche of self destruction when your dad walked in with a towel around his neck.

“Hey, pumpkin, I want you working register today.” He used the towel to jokingly whip you and you backed away with a fake gasp.

“How dare you hit me! I’ll have to show you who’s boss!” You ran up and grabbed his back, trying to pull him down to your height. You giggled as your dad grabbed your arms and pulls them off of him.

“Why do I have to work register?” You asked after the excitement died down you turned to the old metal sink jutting out of the wall to wash your hands.

“We’re down a couple employees and I need a smiling face to cover for ‘em.”

“Who’s out?” You asked, curiosity taking over your other senses.

“The twins. Their grandparents just passed in a plane crash and they needed to be with their family.” Your dad loved his employees, he had a big heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he gave the sixteen year olds paid time off.

“That sucks,” you sighed, tying your apron on as you walked into the front room, “I’ll have to make them a warm meal then.” You nodded to yourself and stepped up to the cash register.

It was once again quiet as the loud whir and clanking of Chelsea stretching a batch of “Chocolate Marshmallow Supreme” filled the noiseless void.

“Welcome to UA Sugar-High, how can we go beyond plus ultra to make something sweet for you today?” You asked kindly to the old man in front of you.

“What a nice young woman, may I please have a small bag of salt water taffy? My grandchildren love it, you know?” His shaky hands held out the amount of money and you excepted it with a kind smile.

“They’re lucky kids to have such a kind grandfather.” You smiled and handed him his change.

The coins fell straight through his fingers and you gasped, opening the divider in the counter and crouching to grab the money. A large hand was placed over yours and you looked up to see a shrunken Fatgum.

He blushed brightly and handed you the amount he picked up. You stepped behind the counter again and smiled to both men.

“Thank you.” You handed the old man his change and bag of candy.

“What can I get for you, Fatgum? Twelve candy canes, fifty-eight salt water taffies, and three bags of caramel covered pretzels?” You joked lightly, your smile was as fake as it always was but underneath, there was slight happiness that a pro was taking interest in you. It felt nice to prove your best friend wrong. You did amount to something.

“Hi, actually, today I was wondering… what time do you get off work?” His hand scratched at the back of his neck while he waited for your answer.

You were stunned. You never thought he was actually interested in you. “Umm, I just-I just got here but I’ll be off at four o’clock.”

“Great! May I,” he paused, thinking over his choice of words, “walk you home after a small stroll?” His blush reached passed his ears and he continued to cup the back of his neck.

“I-uh-I suppose it would be alright,” you mentally punched yourself in the face for stuttering over your words and wasting the pro hero’s time.

“Amazing! Thank you.” He looked at the candy behind the glass. “Can I have some pumpkin fudge?” He asked quietly.

“Of course, sir!” Your smile wasn’t fake this time as one of them employees packaged up a block and handed it to you. “Here you are.” The tall blonde smiled and gently grabbed the paper bag from you.

— — —

Throughout the day you couldn’t forget the fact that THE FATGUM asked you on a date. Though, he never specified it was a date… it wasn’t a date was it? That’s it! Now it made sense. He just wanted to thank you for the candy. Or ask how you make the candy. Or walk you home to murder you!!!

You had to calm yourself down so you didn’t have an anxiety attack. You knew you were overthinking things again, yet you couldn’t help but to deny that it was a date.

You hung up your apron and wiped off your face with cool water from the little sink. The constant heat from the candy rollers’ fire and the boiling sugar always made you sweaty.

You stepped out the back door and into the cool air. Your brain swirled with a calmness before your phone rang.

“Hello?” You asked extremely quietly.

“Oh my God, (Y/n), you’re so fucking loud!” You could hear the irritation drip from their mouth like poison. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if I could grab some cash from you? I’ve really been struggling lately and I don’t have enough money to cover a trip to the store.”

You knew your friend’s ears were extra sensitive to noise from their quirk, how could you be loud and hurt them?

“What store?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Last time I gave you money, you spent it on clothes for yourself then never paid me back.”

“What, you think I don’t have enough money for food? No I can pay for that, I just need money for the mall.” They we’re so entitled… but you just wanted them to be happy.

“Actually, I need to make a meal for a couple of the employees that lost some family members, I can’t spare any money this week if I want to eat.” You remembered you had to make the twins food and desperately hoped that your best friend would understand.

“Well then just don’t eat this week. It’s not that big of a deal.” Their words hurt but you knew they were right. You could handle not eating this week.

But you didn’t get to eat very well last week either… it hurt to know you weren’t anyone’s first priority. You wished you would’ve told your father about your best friend a long time ago but it was too late.

You opened your mouth to give in when a large gentle hand pulled your phone from your ear.

“This is (Y/n)’s boyfriend. I’m going to have to ask you to stop asking her for money. She obviously said she can’t. You need to respect her boundaries.” Fatgum looked down at you sympathetically and hung up on your friend.

“I’m sorry I overstepped my boundaries. I just couldn’t stand seeing you look so distraught.” Fatgum held out your phone, and you gently took it. It was difficult to tell if you were okay with him hanging up on your best friend but maybe he was right.

“I’m not sure if I appreciate it but thank you for helping.” You felt like you were meant to explain the situation to the tall man. “That was my best friend, they wanted my money again… I should’ve just given it to them I suppose, I ate last week so it wouldn’t have been a problem!” You smiled up at him and his heart clenched. Your relationship was not okay… but he wasn’t close enough to intervene on the toxicity that was brewing between you two. And a week ago? That’s the last you ate?!

You tried to smile but you were too tired.

The winter sun was setting and your body finally told you it was cold as a shiver rolled over you violently. Your teeth clanked together and your ears felt numb. “I need to grab my coat,” you whispered before spinning and swinging open the mesh back door.

The wave of heat and the smell of hot sugar reached your face making you feel warm. You opened your locker with a quiet click and pulled out your hat, gloves, and coat.

When everything was set, you stepped out of the still swinging door and felt the cold nip at your skin. Breaths came out in puffs of vapor as you both strolled through the crunching snow.

“Can I take you some place to eat?” You looked up at the blonde’s words.

“I suppose that would be alright. I’ll pay though.”

“Absolutely not. I was the one to invite you, I will be the one to pay.” You both argued about the payment before Fatgum led you through the front door with a gentle hand on your back.

The red carpet and the silk tablecloths made your arguments falter. Large eyes squinted in a smile as they watched your bewildered expression.

“I’ll pay.” The tall blonde stated. His yellow sneakers padded to the hostess stand and spoke with a hushed voice to the short woman.

She nodded excitedly and led you both through the restaurant and into a private room. You were thankful for that; having an anxiety attack while people stared at you was not how you wanted to spend the evening.

A menu was placed in front of you with a fake smile that you knew all too well about.

“What is fresh?” Fatgum asked the little woman.

“Our wagyu was brought in yesterday but our fugu came in early this morning.”

Fatgum looked at you expectingly and waited for you to order.

“May I just have miso soup?” You asked kindly and shut the menu.

The woman nodded and wrote it down. She looked up expectingly to the tall man; who, even in his shrunken form, his legs barely fit under the table and his broad shoulders make it difficult to sit in such a narrow chair.

“I’ll have the wagyu with whatever side you recommend, and we would like a full platter of takoyaki.” He thanked the girl kindly and you both watched as she left the room.

“Fatgum-“

“Taishirou. Please. I want you to call me Taishirou.” He smiled down at you, making you shift in your seat and blush deeply.

— — —

The date went surprisingly well, you ate, laughed a bit, he walked you home, and you had never been on a better date. You leaned against your closed door and sighed deeply, your heart racing so loud you figured your neighbors could hear it.

“Even your heartbeat is loud.” A voice from your living room scoffed. You gasped and tried to open your front door, maybe Taishirou was still outside.

You could only jiggle the handle before you were ripped away from the door.

“Are you kidding me, (Y/n)? You’re pathetic. A date? Since when has anyone thought you were worth their time? Never. I bet you that guy was just pitying you.” You were dragged by your hair into your small living room, although you could barely call it that. There was a singular couch with nothing on the walls and no tv. You couldn’t afford it.

Your scalp felt like fire was inching down to your neck. You could do nothing, you were in shock. Your best friend finally let go of your head and slammed their foot into your stomach.

“Do you really think anyone would want you as a friend? You’re far too loud and you obviously don’t know how to be considerate to others. You didn’t even give me the money I needed.” The blows to your body made you cry in agony but before more whimpers could leave your mouth, your “friend” placed tape over your mouth and nose, completely shutting you up.

In normal circumstances with them, you would just lick around the tape so you could breath but your mouth was dry, you couldn’t BREATHE.

Again and again you were chastised and hit. And… you couldn’t help but agree. You weren’t worth it. You weren’t worth the pain you caused your friend and family, you weren’t worth a date or food, you weren’t worth living. As long as you died by your best friend’s hands, you would be okay.

You slowly excepted the black and white dots that shrouded your vision and let them over take your mind as it dropped into static.

— — —

Taishirou left your door with a pump of his fists. He was so psyched about the date that he could hardly contain his glee. He walked slowly down the hall of your apartment building as he thought over the night and you, and your beautiful eyes, and face, and body- nope! His thoughts are pure and will be until you’re ready!

His steps faltered when he heard your handle jiggle, it was unlocked and he thought you were trying to get back out to see him.

He walked back to your door and waited outside for you to open it.

You didn’t.

He heard a hushed voice but didn’t move.

He did start to move when he heard a Yelp and a slap.

He really started hustling when he heard muffled hits and kicks as cry’s suddenly stopped.

Taishirou pulled out his phone and hit the panic button, immediately sending his address to a few close friends and the police department.

He tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. Out of desperation, he kicked open the door and was met with the sight of you, blue in the face, on the floor, slowly dying; and an extremely pissed looking person beating the shit out of you.

Taishirou, quickly picked you up and ripped the tape off your face, and checked your breathing. When he determined that you were now breathing, although raggedly, he tackled the abuser and pinned them to the floor.

He grew in size and absorbed the prick in a matter of seconds.

Heavy breathing filled your small apartment as the blonde man panicked. His date almost just died. His date almost just DIED!

— — —

You blinked the grogginess away and looked at the white room around you.

A hospital? Why were you in— oh. That person, that vile creature! Surely you didn’t have to deal with them after that stunt, would you?

You silently prayed that your ex-BFF went to jail and maybe hell, later. They may have been right about you, but people don’t attempt to murder someone, fail, then expect to be forgiven so easily.

You put up with their bullshit for years. Never again.

As you fumed in your hospital bed, the door to your room slowly creeped open revealing a very tired looking Toyomitsu Taishirou. His entire demeanor relaxed when he saw your figure, awake, and sitting up.

You looked up to see Fatgum standing over you.

“Where is that offspring of a bitch that tried to fucking murder me!? I’m going to blow out their fucking eardrums!!!” The anger in your screaming voice slightly surprised the tall man but he calmly explained the situation.

“They’re in jail. They will be for a very, very long time.” He said gently, sitting in a chair next yo your bed.

He told you how he found you, that he captured the abuser, and that the police came. Afterwards he calmed you down with a couple stories of his hero work and comforted you with his words.

It was good to hear someone talk to you without evil intent. It was good to hear someone speak and have an actual conversation with you.

You felt heard. You felt loved.

His voice was like honey dripping down the side of a bowl. Or sweet candy being rolled for some lucky person to eat.

He was like sugar.

———————

I’m so sorry this was so rushed, I’m like actually so tired and I can’t stand not posting. My mental health has taken a bad drop and I’ve been trying and failing to pick up my broken pieces.

Thank you for understanding.

Taglist!

@katsukichu @axidthot @darlingely @totally-not-bakus-hoe @arminlator @sad0ni0n @blossominglark

#anime #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha drabbles #mha x reader #chubby reader #mha taishirou #taishirou #mha fatgum #fatgum x candymaker!reader #fatgum x reader #fatgum angst #angst #helpa me #haha #lol #jkjk #mha fanfic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city.

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath.

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #au #au!dean x reader #dean x reader #red hood!dean #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: I’ve decided to make this five parts instead of four. I was originally going to combine this part and the next one, but I feel like it flows better with a bit of separation between them!

Part One

____

Part Two

The rest of our first afternoon together was spent lazing around. Grayson was tired, but continued to refuse his nap so we kept things low key to avoid any exhausted toddler meltdowns. By the time the evening rolled around, I was tired from the stress of the day myself and since I still had to unpack, I went up to my bedroom shortly after we'd tucked Grayson into bed.

I slept a lot better than I thought I would given everything that was on my mind and when I woke up, I could already hear the sounds of breakfast echoing up from the kitchen. Taking a few minutes to let myself wake up properly, I checked my phone and scrolled through social media before getting up, stretching and heading downstairs.

"Good morning," I smiled, finding Chris and Grayson sitting at the island eating some scrambled eggs while Scott leaned against the counter with a cereal bowl in his hands.

"G'morning, Mama!"

Grayson's greeting was said through a mouthful of food and Chris reminded him that wasn't polite before greeting me himself.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he insisted. "There's some eggs left in the pan or cereal, whatever you can find. Maybe Grayson will even share his apple slices with you if you ask nicely."

Grayson gasped at that suggestion and frantically shook his head.

"No, Daddy!" He protested. "I don't want to share!"

I laughed as he reached over his plate to move the little bowl of sliced fruit closer to his body where he could keep it guarded.

"Not even one slice?" I asked. "But I'm so hungry!"

"Over there!" Grayson giggled, pointing at the counter.

I turned around and saw a few more apples in a bowl, making me smile as I turned back to the boys.

"But they're not nicely sliced like yours," I pointed out. "How can I eat those?"

Grayson shrugged and plucked one of his apples out of his bowl. He looked smug, thinking he'd won, but he was so distracted while he took a bite that he didn't see Chris' hand sneak over until he'd snatched one of the slices and tossed it to me.

"Catch!"

I did as Chris instructed and Grayson's jaw dropped. An indignant huff fell from his lips as he looked between the two of us.

"That's not nice."

Chris laughed, but I bit back a smile and returned his apple.

"You're right, baby," I agreed, kissing the top of your head. "That was mean, but we were just tricking you. You don't have to share your apple."

"Thanks, Mama."

The frown on his face turned back into a grin and I scraped the rest of the eggs that were in the pan on the stove onto a plate before turning back to the boys once I’d pulled a fork from the drawer.

"So, how do you want to work it with things like groceries while I'm here?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll order it," Chris told me. "They've started doing curbside pick up pretty much everywhere so I was thinking I'd just do that."

"Oh, that's handy, but I meant like money wise. Should I just transfer you my share or do you want to alternate who pays?"

Chris stared at me for a moment as if he was trying to figure out if I was joking before he chuckled.

"I'm not taking any money from you, Whitney."

His voice was firm, but I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What? Why not? I can't let you pay for everything."

"You're not still working, are you?" Scott asked. "Or is it different since, as a photographer, you're so far away from whoever you're taking pictures of?"

"I'm not working," I admitted. "I think it would be doable if it was, like, family portraits or something like that, but the big photo shoots involve too many people. Everyone cancelled on me last week or delayed my contracts until at least the summer."

"So, don't worry about paying for anything then," Chris shrugged. "It's not like you're going to eat that much, I think I can handle the cost."

He was trying to do a nice thing. He was a very generous person with those that he cared about, but I wasn't going to take advantage of him.

"I have savings, Chris," I insisted. "I'm not completely helpless."

As if sensing a rising tension, Scott put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his coffee mug before turning to Grayson.

"Hey, Gray, let's go see what cartoons we can find."

Grayson nodded eagerly and Chris helped him down from the tall stool so he could follow Scott out of the room, taking his little bowl of apples with him.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're helpless," Chris assured me once they were out of earshot. "But you're tiny, I don't think that buying you a few groceries for the next couple of months will financially cripple me."

I tried to temper my defensiveness before I answered him, reminding myself again that he was trying to be helpful.

"I know that, but I don't feel comfortable living here for that long without contributing," I told him. "You already give me more than you need to every month for Grayson."

It was true. Since our custody agreement was that Grayson spent fifty percent of his time with each of us, he wasn't required to pay me any child support. But he did anyway. It was something we’d argued about on and off over the years because the amount that he gave me was way over the top. I appreciated his generosity and I did use all the money to buy things for Gray, but most of it ended up in a bank account that I'd opened for him because there was no way to spend it all in one month without Grayson becoming the most spoiled child in all of Massachusetts.

"I like to make sure he's taken care of."

"Which I am capable of doing with my own money when he's in my care," I reminded him. "But I don't want to start that whole conversation again. I just want to feel like I'm doing my part while I stay with you."

"And I appreciate that gesture, but it won't be necessary," Chris insisted. "You can clean, you can cook, do anything like that to help out, but I won't accept any money, especially while you're not working."

I sighed as he stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher while I put mine on the counter, too distracted by our conversation to eat. I knew it would be a struggle to get him to agree to take money from me, but I wasn't ready to back down so I thought of a compromise and hoped he would accept.

"How about we drop it for now," I suggested. "But if this thing goes on for more than a couple of weeks, can we talk about it again?"

Chris paused and crossed his arms. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was relieved when he agreed.

"Alright," he nodded, hesitating for a moment before adding a stipulation to the deal. "But we're going to talk about your car too before you leave here."

"My car? What about my car?"

"Grayson told me that it's not working properly," Chris admitted. "He said it sounds angry sometimes and that you haven't gotten it checked out yet."

I rolled my eyes, guessing that was one of those 'secrets' that he mentioned.

"It's fine," I assured him. "It made a weird sound one time last week when I tried to start it, but it's still working. I was going to take it in, but then all this virus stuff happened and I didn't have chance."

"You need a new one," Chris informed me. "That one is getting old anyway. I'll take you car shopping when things reopen."

I laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but I could see the annoyance on his face at my reaction.

"You're not buying me a car, Chris. The one I have is perfectly fine and if it's not then I will take myself car shopping, thank you very much."

"Why do you get so defensive when I try to help you?" He asked, his eyes shifting into a glare. "I'm not going to accidentally think that you're in love with me just because you accept a nice gesture from me. I can take a hint, Whitney, I get it."

My jaw dropped and I couldn't hold back a disgruntled scoff at his insane change of topic.

"What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with that," I argued. "I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I knew you were going to hold that over me and throw it in my face all the time."

“All the time? This is the first time I’ve mentioned it!”

“Yes, but I’ve not even been here for twenty-fours hours and you’ve already brought it up!”

Perhaps it was my harsh, snappy tone that did it or my very valid criticism of his low blow, but Chris' body language softened.

"I just don't get why you get so worked up when I'm trying to help you..."

"Because I don't need help, Chris," I explained. "I might not be Captain America rich, but I do just fine and I can take care of myself. I can buy my own groceries and if I really needed to, I could buy myself a new car. You throwing money at me for things like that makes me feel like you don't value the success I've had in my career or my ability to manage my finances which is, quite frankly, offensive."

Chris dropped his arms so they were no longer crossed and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he'd been getting quite defensive as well and had realized it, whether he would admit it or not. I held my head high, proud of myself for explaining my feelings so well and taking him down a notch, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Chris spoke.

"If you were the richest woman in the world, I would still want to buy you a car," Chris started, looking more nervous than the dismissive, self-assured attitude I was getting moments ago. "I'd still want to buy you anything you could ever need because making you happy makes me happy."

My face fell at his confession and my heart clenched again, knowing what the underlying sentiment behind his statement was. It stung more than any hurtful words could have as the sincerity, the genuine care and appreciation, in his voice was heartbreaking. I regretted not adding a condition to our cohabitation that specified he wasn't allowed to say such nice, guilt inducing things as I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation that was more polite than just bolting out the door.

Too much time was passing as his words hung between us so, short of any good comeback to his words, I shrugged.

"If you want to make me happy, let me contribute for the groceries."

It was Chris' turn to look shocked now, as he was obviously expecting a more thoughtful response to his rather vulnerable admission, but he pulled himself together quickly and a dry laugh fell from his lips.

"Nice try, Whitney," he smiled, shaking his head. "But that's not going to happen."

Without giving me any more time to argue, he turned on his heels and walked out the door leaving me alone to wallow in my guilt and wonder how much longer I'd be able to keep up my act of nonchalance.

There was a weird sense of restlessness in the house that day. Usually, killing a few days at home would be no big deal but, as soon as the stay at home orders came into place that morning, the knowledge that we were now unable to do anything else made it feel slightly more suffocating.

Chris wasn't lying though when he said that he planned to make this lockdown as enjoyable as possible so we managed to keep ourselves entertained as we planned out some of the things we could do. Chris and Scott were compiling a list of old movies they wanted to watch again, I ordered a bunch of puzzles and books (some more child appropriate and some for the adults), Chris dug out an old wiffle ball set he had from when they were kids and Scott organized Chris' video game collection, pulling out all the good ones like their favourite: Mario Kart.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling much more optimistic about how our time at home would go. Especially Grayson. It was finally starting to sink in for him that he got to spend the foreseeable future surrounded by all his favourite people - something that was unfortunately a rarity for him given our situation. He was bouncing off the walls as he threw his ideas into the mix and couldn't wait to get started on all the fun.

The excitement of the day led to another early night for him and I excused myself shortly after, declining the invitation to start practicing my Mario Kart skills.

After our conversation that morning, I was trying to keep a bit of distance from Chris. I wasn't mad and it didn't seem like he had any lasting feelings of annoyance either, but our earlier discussion proved to me that there was still tension and resentment between us. I wanted to let it settle and give him some space so our small disagreement didn't turn into a full-blown argument. Living together after everything we'd been through would be an adjustment period and easing into it would probably be the safest route.

So, I took myself off to my bedroom and lounged in bed watching some new mystery show on Netflix. I started it thinking it would just be a good way to pass a few hours until a reasonable time to go to bed but as usual with Netflix, I got sucked in and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.

I closed my laptop, knowing I needed to get some sleep as Grayson was an early riser, but I noticed the glass of water I'd taken upstairs with me hours ago was empty and my mouth was dry. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, taking the glass to the kitchen to fill it up.

I crept down the stairs, assuming everyone would be in bed already, but I was surprised when I got to the kitchen to see the light on. I poked my head into the room and saw Scott sitting at the little island in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand and a melancholy look on his face.

"Hey," I greeted him, alerting him to my presence. "You're up late..."

"I was just FaceTiming with my boyfriend. He's in LA so it worked with the time difference."

"Boyfriend?" I questioned as I headed over to the sink to fill up my glass. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"It's pretty new," he sighed. "We've only been together about a month now."

"That's so exciting! You didn't want to stay in LA and quarantine with him?"

"No, we thought it was too fresh for us to, like, fully move in together and if I was in LA and not living with him then we wouldn't see each other anyway, so I decided I may as well come here."

"That's really hard," I frowned as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "I'm sorry that you had to make a decision like that."

"It's alright," he shrugged despite the sad look on his face. "A lot of people have had to make much tougher decisions than that lately."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset anyway."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I'm just glad we've got so many ways to stay in touch." He flashed me a smile and I was glad to see it. Scott was a good guy and one of those people who was usually so positive and upbeat that it was hard to see him feeling down. "What about you? How are you doing with everything?"

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "Do you mean the deadly virus plaguing the world? Or the fact that I'm in lockdown with the father of my child who I have a fairly complicated history with?"

"Both," Scott chuckled as he sipped his drink of what looked to be whiskey. "But I was more referring to being here in lockdown with Chris."

"It's hard, but I'm doing okay. It's just a weird situation."

"It'll definitely take some time to get used to for both of you," he nodded. "He felt really bad this morning. He told me what you said about how offensive it is when he throws money at you all the time and I totally agree, but I hope you know his heart was in the right place. He tells everyone how talented you are, he would never want to belittle your career."

"I know," I winced. "I overreacted a little bit."

"No, not at all!" Scott assured me. "He needed to hear it. I've been on the receiving end of it too so I know how you felt, but he doesn't realize how it comes off some times. He's just trying to be generous and help the people he loves."

I nodded and I knew that I should just end the conversation there. Tell him that I understood what Chris' intent was and leave it at that. But my heart overpowered my brain and I found myself opening up before I could stop myself.

"I just don't exactly deserve to be on that list," I reminded him. "And I shouldn't take advantage of any feelings he might have for me after the decision that I made."

"You really do deserve to be on that list," he told me with a smile. "He's really in love with you."

"Love might be a bit extreme," I scoffed. "He's made his feelings clear, I know he cares about me, but it's not love."

"He's not made his feelings clear enough then," Scott countered. "Because he's been head over heels in love with you since pretty much the moment he met you."

My mouth went dry as my brain fought to comprehend that claim while all my instincts were telling me that it wasn't true. Scott wouldn't lie to me, he wasn't that kind of person, but he could be exaggerating especially since he had been drinking. There was an honesty in his eyes though, a look that told me he was telling the truth, but I couldn't accept it, it just didn't make sense.

"That's not true," I argued. "He only ever saw me as a friend until that one night and that night was a mistake."

But Scott was confident in what he'd shared and he shook his head.

"He never saw you as just a friend. You were his endgame from day one."

Perhaps it was a delaying tactic, perhaps it was a nervous response or I was subconsciously trying to buy myself some time to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but a giggle slipped out at Scott's choice of words.

"Endgame? Is that an Avengers joke?"

"It wasn't intentional," he assured me with a laugh, but he was quick to get us back on topic. "But I mean it. We had a conversation just a few weeks after you met and he was talking about you like you hung the moon. He's been enamoured from the start."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was speaking with such confidence, but the words he was saying might as well have been another language. Knowing what I knew about our situation, how things had unfolded between us, how that first night together went down and the aftermath of it, there was no sign that Chris had been in love with me. He cared about me, that much I knew, but to be in love? That didn't add up.

Especially when I'd had those feelings all along as well. Surely, I would have noticed had they been reciprocated.

I'd fallen silent as my brain buzzed, scrambling for any gesture or obvious evidence that I'd missed that might prove Scott's claim, but when he spoke again, I was pulled from my thoughts.

"Do you not feel the same way about him?" He asked. "And there's no judgment here, I can see both sides. I love Chris and I want him to be happy, but I respect what you're trying to do."

I felt my heart rate spike again as my palms grew sweaty in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

I was aware of the importance of this conversation, but I was also aware that I wasn't having it with the right person. If Scott was being honest then Chris must have had his reasons for not sharing the depth of his feelings with me and it felt sneaky and deceitful that I was finding out from someone else. It also felt wrong that the answer to Scott's question was on the tip of my tongue. Chris deserved to know before his brother, but I was tired. Fighting through this mess all by myself was wearing me down and Scott had always been one of those people that compelled you to pour your heart out to him. He was a better listener than most and I needed someone, anyone, to give me some kind of guidance. So the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I do feel the same," I admitted, my eyes firmly locked on the glass of water on the table in front of me as I worried I'd be too anxious to speak if I looked Scott in the eye. "I love him very much."

"Then why are you so scared to give him a chance?" He questioned. "Just because of Grayson?"

I nodded, but even I was starting to doubt my own motivations.

"We work together so well right now, but if we give it a shot and someone ends up getting hurt then we might not be able to put our feelings aside and keep things peaceful."

"But aren't you hurting each other every day that you spend in love with each other, but not together?" He pointed out. "Yet, you manage to put Grayson first through all that pain."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

It was an excellent point.

We were both hurting from being apart, it was clear from how defensive we got over silly little things like we had that morning. I could only imagine how Chris felt, but it was hard for me to be around him all the time and just keep things friendly when in my heart I wanted more. I ached at the sight of him every time I dropped Grayson off or picked him up, but we still managed to be friendly and polite through that.

"How many of those drinks have you had?” I teased earning a laugh from Scott. “They’ve made you too wise.”

"Not enough," he joked. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"It is true, but it's different," I insisted. "If we were together and broke up, that kind of hurt can come with a lot of anger. Right now, we might be sad or disappointed about the situation, but there's no anger."

"Oh, there was anger," Scott informed me, grimacing slightly. "After Christmas, when he came back from dropping Grayson off at your house there was definitely anger. He slammed doors, stormed around the house, got drunk off his ass and ranted about it for hours. I've never seen him that upset over being turned down before."

My heart sank at that news. I knew that he'd been upset, but I didn't think he'd taken it that badly. I thought he was just a bit sulky, but now my guilt intensified.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel bad enough as it is..."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Scott assured me, reaching over to rub my back as I forced back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "But it proves that even if one of you ends up heartbroken, you can still put Grayson first because you just did it."

"I didn't, Chris did," I pointed out after clearing my throat. "If it wasn't up to me, if Chris came to his senses and ditched me for some beautiful actress, then I'm not sure that I could be so forgiving."

"Why would he ditch you?"

As promised, there was no judgment in Scott's voice, just genuine curiosity and I shrugged as I answered.

"Because he could have any woman in America."

"Maybe not any woman, let's not get carried away," Scott smirked, his teasing tone making me smile. "But for such a relationship loving guy, don't you think it's interesting that he hasn't been in a serious relationship in about five years?"

That wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but it wasn't the 'gotcha' moment that it seemed like Scott had hoped it was.

"Not really. He's been busy with work the last few years," I pointed out. "And having a baby with me must have complicated his personal life a bit."

"You complicated his personal life the moment he met you," Scott insisted. "That's my point."

He sounded so sure of himself, but the words he was saying were still hard for me to comprehend. I'd always been so confident in my understanding of our relationship and if I was to believe him, it would shatter everything I thought I knew.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't have mentioned this by now..."

"You know how he gets with his anxiety. He's not always the over confident hotshot that people assume he is," Scott reminded me. "But you'll have to talk to him if you want more information than that."

I let out a sigh as I knew he was right.

"There's a lot that we need to talk about," I admitted. "Thank you for this though, Scott, you've given me a lot to think about."

"Anytime," he smiled. "And I completely respect that you're willing to put Grayson first despite whatever feelings you have. You're a wonderful mom and I would be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

I laughed at his outrageous leap from even considering a relationship straight to marriage and shook my head.

"You need to go to bed, Scott," I instructed. "You've clearly had too much to drink tonight."

"I probably have," he agreed. "But I meant everything that I've said. Think about it, okay?"

I nodded as I slid off the stool I was sitting on, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

"I'm here for you too, you know that right?" I asked as I stepped back. "If you ever want to talk about your situation or vent and complain about the distance, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thanks, Whitney," he smiled before dragging himself off his stool as well. "Goodnight."

I returned his smile and mumbled a 'goodnight' of my own before heading back to bed with all the new information that Scott had provided echoing around in my head. While it had been a very informative conversation, I wasn't quite sure whether I came away from it with the clarity I was looking for or just more confusion.

Part Three

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #more hearts than mine

189 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

49!!!!!! Please

finally!!!! baby, finally!!!!

49. Boss/Intern (35yo!Boss!Anakin, 19yo!Intern!Obi-Wan)

(2.4k)

Obi-Wan rubs his hands rapidly down his face. He feels distinctly like he’s about to burst into tears, which would be a very bad thing to do here and now. His supervisor had come in fifteen minutes ago to tell him everyone was going to lunch. She’d invited him along, but he’d said no.

He always says no.

Lunch for the rest of the office means he gets to have a scheduled breakdown at his little cubicle.

He just. He just doesn’t know anything.

He’s only had this internship at Temple Tech for one week and already he’s floundered and fucked up more than anyone else probably has put together in their lifetimes.

He shouldn’t have ever applied, but he had been getting so desperate for summer employment, any sort of employment and, yes, this internship was out of his career field, and yes, he did have to lie at least five times on his resume, but it was an internship and it was paid.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. But then he actually got the job by some stroke of hellish luck, and he’s been learning every day since that it was actually probably a terrible idea. The learning curve is too steep. Obi-Wan is trying, but wow is he bad at it. Tech. Data stuff.

On his open computer, the sound of an email pinging rushes through his ears and he takes his hands off of his face to look. It’s from Anakin Skywalker. The boss.

Obi-Wan thinks he can feel his fingers grow numb. His heart feels like it’s stuttering in his chest, like it’s about to stop once and for all.

Temple Tech is a start-up company, still small but growing quickly. At its head is thirty-five year old Anakin Skywalker, which shouldn’t be any sort of a problem because Obi-Wan’s nineteen now and he can keep it in his pants, even if Anakin is hot as hell, smart as well, and so terribly kind whenever they run into each other.

Which happens a lot. Because it’s a small company, operating out of one renovated warehouse turned office. The floor plan is open enough that Obi-Wan’s able to see Anakin’s space--he gets a proper office, as part of being the boss, but he’s chosen to make the walls glass so it doesn’t feel as if he’s cut off from everyone else--from across the room. And Anakin is big on making everyone who works with him feel like family. A lot of companies say they do that or support that, but Anakin actually does. For one thing, he tells them to call him Anakin, not Mr. Skywalker. For another, he’s open about his personal life, but not so much that it makes anyone feel uncomfortable.

He’s quick with a smile and so understanding, and if he ever gets mad—and from his stories of his younger days, Obi-Wan knows he must have a temper—it’s never been in public.

And Anakin has never commented on how often Obi-Wan blushes around him, or how hard it is for him to focus on his work if Anakin sits on the edge of his desk to talk with him. Or any of the other employees, Obi-Wan has had to remind himself many times. Even though Obi-Wan feels hypersensitive and like a schoolgirl whenever Anakin is in his general vicinity, Anakin is a professional. He’s Obi-Wan’s boss. Nothing could ever happen between them. Not while Obi-Wan works under Anakin.

Even if Anakin is so nice and so kind and has asked to meet him now when everyone else is out of the building. It’s not suspicious and it’s definitely not cause for concern of any kind.

He thinks about shooting back an email, confirming it, but he’s never been good at the whole office environment thing. Instead, he logs off his computer and stands up.

It’s a short walk to Anakin’s office, hardly enough time for his palms to get sweaty.

Anakin’s typing something when Obi-Wan enters the room and he looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, aghast when he realizes he’s forgotten to knock. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Obi-Wan, come in, please,” Anakin gives him a slight smile and gestures for him to sit on the couch next to his desk. Obi-Wan takes a seat hesitantly. It’s as soft as it’s always looked.

Anakin types for a few more seconds on his computer before pushing away from his desk all together and taking a seat next to Obi-Wan on the couch.

“I’ve noticed you never go out to lunch with your coworkers,” Anakin says, positioning himself so he’s facing Obi-Wan completely. His body language is open, like he’s read one of those business books on how to sit so everyone knows you’re nice but you have an agenda.

It puts Obi-Wan on edge, and he fidgets around on his seat.

“You’re not in trouble, b--Obi-Wan,” his boss murmurs. “I just want to know why. Do you not like them? Have they been mean to you?”

“No!” Obi-Wan denies immediately, looking up at Anakin and biting his lip when he sees that the man’s attention is fixed so squarely on him. “No, of course not. Everyone here has been amazing.” He widens his eyes and raises both eyebrows. “Really, sir.”

Anakin looks distinctly uncomfortable. “I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” he criticizes, and Obi-Wan blushes more.

He’s really messing this up.

“Sorry, sir, I mean. Anakin. Sorry. Anakin,” he coughs. His palms are sweaty. He’s sitting on his attractive boss’s couch when everyone’s gone on lunch, and his palms are sweaty.

He doesn’t even want anything to happen.

Alright, so that’s a lie. He definitely has spent a lot of late nights thinking about something happening between them, just like this, but those are fantasies and Anakin is his boss. More than that, Anakin is a good man. He’d never take advantage of an intern in that way, no matter how frequently Obi-Wan feels as if he’s walking around with a sign around his neck that says, Take Advantage of Me, Mr. Anakin, Sir!

“Why don’t you go to lunch with them, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks softly, gently.

Obi-Wan’s hands clench down on themselves. It’s really the moment of truth, now. He really can’t keep lying, not when Anakin sounds so concerned. He has no right to be concerned! He shouldn’t care about Obi-Wan at all; hell, he shouldn’t even know him!

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, staring down at the stretch of fabric on his knees.

Anakin hums. Obi-Wan wonders if he learned that from his fancy How to Run a Business books as well: don’t say anything, just let the other person talk until you know everything you need to know to crush them.

Damn if the silence doesn’t work to get Obi-Wan speaking again though.

“I...I’m behind on the work,” he admits. “I don’t have time to go to lunch because I need to figure out how to do my work.”

Anakin makes a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. “If...if your workload is too heavy, Obi-Wan, we can look into cutting it. I don’t want to be known as the company that runs its interns into the ground.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightens too much and he shrugs. He can’t cry. He really shouldn’t cry. He did this to himself. “It wouldn’t help,” he whispers.

“What?” Anakin asks, leaning forward to hear him better.

“It wouldn’t help,” Obi-Wan says again, louder this time. Anakin blinks at him, and Obi-Wan finally tells him the truth. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I...I lied on my resume. I needed a job, for my student visa. I needed the money to keep it while not in school. And...and internships are supposed to look good on your resume, so I...I thought I could figure it out, I’m smart, sir, I’m so smart. I don’t know why I can’t figure it out.”

He drops his gaze to his hands again and breathes out shakily. He’d been carrying the weight of that secret for far longer than he should have been. It should have been a relief of the utmost degree to give it away. But instead he’s waiting for the punishment. Anakin will have to fire him now. Anakin might even get mad at him for lying.

When his boss doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, Obi-Wan chances a glance up at him through his lashes. Instead of anger on his face, there’s only a confused sort of sympathy.

“I’m...not sure I understand, Obi-Wan,” he says slowly. “You lied on your resume to get this internship, but...why couldn’t you have just applied to an internship in a different field? One you actually want to study? I know you like biology, you’ve told me more about biology in the past few weeks than you’ve told me about yourself.”

“None of them wanted me,” Obi-Wan sniffles and hates himself for it. “I tried, I promise. I promise I didn’t want to lie, but I needed the money, and this internship paid so much better than working at a coffeehouse would.”

Anakin puts his hand gently on his shoulder and Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from turning into the pressure of it. “It’s alright,” Anakin murmurs. “Oh no, please don’t--please don’t cry, b--Obi.”

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan wails.

Anakin hushs him. “Alright, Obi-Wan, alright. Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re going to fire me,” he says with absolute certainty. He doesn’t even much like his job at Temple Tech, but how is he supposed to find another one on such short notice?

Anakin is quiet. He doesn’t say no.

“Look, I’ll try harder, I promise,” Obi-Wan stutters out, turning to look up at Anakin with wet eyes. What a picture he must make. Nothing professional about him at all. Nothing worth keeping around either. “I promise, please, don’t--I’ll--I’ll stay after hours, I’ll work late, come early. I need this job, sir.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrow and he looks genuinely regretful, which is little comfort. “Obi-Wan, it’s not about...your work ethic. I promise, your work ethic is stronger and better than most of the people on my team.”

Obi-Wan wipes at his eyes hastily. He knows there’s a but coming soon.

“But I can’t...if you’ve lied on your resume, you can’t put Temple Tech there later. That’s not fair for anyone else who applied and was rejected in favor of you. The spot you have...I need someone there who knows what they’re doing with computers. Who wants to be there. Obi, it makes sense that you don’t know anything about tech. You never look like you really want to be here unless you’re talking to someone else.”

Obi-Wan’s bottom lip trembles and he can feel another wave of tears coming. “I understand, sir,” he mumbles, standing up and preparing to leave the office and Anakin Skywalker behind forever. He’s never been fired before. He doesn’t know what the decorum really is in this situation.

Being tugged back and into his boss’ arms doesn’t feel like how it normally goes, though.

But he can’t resist melting into Anakin’s tight hug, rubbing his cheek on the man’s nice shirt. He wants to give him something to remember him by, even if it’s just tear stains on expensive cotton.

“Lemme help you,” Anakin suddenly says, voice very gruff. Obi-Wan freezes in his arms and tilts his head to try and see Anakin’s face. Help him?

“I don’t understand,” he admits, biting his lip.

“I like you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin confesses. “I do. I’ll be sad to see you leave. I was already going to be sad to see you leave when your internship concluded, but this is much sooner. I…”

He trails off as if trying to make up his mind. It doesn’t take him long to nod to himself.

“Be honest,” he warns him, but there’s a joking lilt to his voice. Obi-Wan, personally, thinks that’s a little too soon. “Do you know how to clean house?”

Obi-Wan pulls out of Anakin’s arms to stare at him.

“Or walk dogs,” Anakin adds.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nods. Cleaning up a house and walking dogs feels like something he can figure out how to do. Feels pretty self-explanatory for the most part. The only thing he’s confused by is why Anakin is asking this of him.

“Would you...that is, just for the rest of the summer, until your classes start again--how would you feel about cleaning my house? And walking my dogs?” Anakin seems to hold his breath.

Obi-Wan feels like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone or something.

“You’re...firing me,” he says slowly. “But...you’re offering me a job? As your….maid?”

“‘We should call it housekeeper,” Anakin says quickly, a pained look flashing across his face. “Too...many connotations with maid.”

“Why?” he has to ask. “I mean. I lied to you, sir. I...you’re firing me.”

“Because I need someone in that position who knows what they’re doing,” Anakin explains slowly.

“Do you want me in another position, sir?” Obi-Wan asks. He blushes furiously as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Anakin’s eyes darken and he clears his throat. He doesn’t say no, and his silence, the double entendre of his silence, makes the breath catch in Obi-Wan’s throat.

“You said you needed money to keep your visa,” Anakin says. “I’m trying to offer you an honest means of employment. I need someone to keep up my house and walk my dogs. If you can do it, I’d hire you over anyone else in a second.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan whispers, suddenly so very aware of how close they’re still standing to each other, how nice Anakin smells, how handsome he looks with just the beginning of a silver streak at his temple.

Anakin sweeps his gaze over Obi-Wan’s face and chest, and Obi-Wan has to wonder what he sees there. Whatever he does, he must like because he smirks. “Work ethic,” he murmurs.

#probably the next sentence out of obi-wans mouth is 'can you wait like fifteen minutes before you hire me after you fire me'#and anakin is like 'why'#and obi-wan is like 'so i can blow you and have you not be my boss'#and anakin is like 🤭😳😏👀 'baby you can have forty-five'#asks #prompt fill #cant believe i turned kinky boss/intern prompt #into just as kinky maid/boss prompt tbh #anakins about to start working from home a lot more #obikin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory, “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

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icequeenbae · 3 years

Text

Daddy’s Struggles (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Dad!Baek, domestic au, established relationship (duh), a slice of life, fluff, a lil smutty(!)

Warnings: some friskiness between mom and dad if you know what I mean, mentions of teenagers watching porn (I’m not promoting it, you guys lol), also this gets fluffin’ sweet get a bucket in advance

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Baekhyun overhears your teenage daughter watching porn. You have to handle a small crisis.

Event: the BBH day @supermwritersnet

Author’s Note: This… came out of nowhere:D I blame my dear beta @baekshoney – we'd once discussed the idea of Baek being a teenager’s parent (in relation to a different story). Don’t we all love dilf Baek though? lol Anyways, this is a tiny glimpse into his future as a cute af father and husband <3 Let’s name him puppydad!Baek 😊 I hope this lifts your mood a little on a day like this!

On that note – happy birthday to our genius idol (aka mochi-cheeked hyperactive puppy), I wish that he stays healthy and happy and on the radar throughout the next 2 years (and forever)!! Don’t be too sad, guys, he’s hopefully going to finally lead a somewhat normal life for a bit 💞 Ok, I’ll let you get to it already~

A yawn.

You rubbed your tired eyes and dictated a reminder for tomorrow morning to your AI assistant. It was pretty late and you had your hands full all day with your kids. And while family time was always great, there hadn’t been a spare moment for you to tend to your own business. But two decades of dealing with your hyperactive yet loveable children (and husband) taught you to make the most out of what you got. So you were doing just that, organizing your errands and sorting important emails after everyone had scurried off to their rooms, and your husband — to the shower.

Baekhyun was quite exhausted himself, so you realized he must’ve gotten in the common bathroom by the time you exited the one in your bedroom. He did that sometimes when you locked the door out of habit. Not that he couldn’t come in, it was just… You used to scold him pretty badly for breaking into the bathroom. Picking locks wasn’t something you wanted your juniors to acquire as a habit. They had enough of their daddy’s traits as it was.

The thought made you chuckle. Your eldest son had already outgrown his father by at least five and a half – gotta be precise here! – centimeters (which made daddy very proud, but also a teeny tiny bit jealous). Despite his height, which, you were sure, was going to break the golden 180cm in the next few months, your boy’s build was exactly the same as Baekhyun’s. His shoulders were broad, his hips wide, and his waist was naturally narrow. Legs long and lean, and eyes always mischievous. He was eighteen and already seemed more like Baekhyun’s best friend rather than his child. Being both the hyung and the oppa of the household, he was the most mature out of the bunch, and always a big help to his parents.

Your middle child, your precious daughter, resembled you a lot. Her wavy hair and her big eyes with the longest eyelashes either of you’d ever witnessed. Seriously, that was the first thing Baekhyun’s friends had commented on when they came by to meet your new baby. ‘Is this even normal? Can she see through those? That’s one pretty baby!’ She was even prettier now, at her sweet sixteen, cheeks still a bit chubby, which – just as her button nose – were definitely an homage to her dad. Not to mention her hands that were even more delicate and exquisite than his.

The youngest, your six-year-old son, was a blessing. You weren’t planning to have more children after the first two until you suddenly thought… why not? Cannot say that you weren’t a little bit under the influence at the time. It was one of those rare weekends when your kids had a sleepover at their grandparents’, so you had the whole house to yourself. Deciding to have a domestic date and enjoy shameless daytime drinking, you indulged in a whole glass of wine before both of you were tipsy and giggling, then you added one more to the mix. At that point, all kinds of crazy things were brought up.

‘We should do this more often…’ You informed your partner. ‘This is exciting! We can walk around naked the way we used to before we had teenagers in the house!’

‘I miss our naked Saturdays…’ Baekhyun whined, almost spilling his wine while trying to sip it gracefully. ‘Now I barely even see you naked with your shower locking obsession!’

Pursing your lips, you dismissed his complaint.

‘After that incident… You cannot blame me for my caution.’

The incident was, well, your son needing to use the bathroom while his sister was taking too long and heading to the one in your bedroom. He nearly walked in on… an adult scene.

‘He didn’t even see anything, Y/N-ah,’ your husband grumbled, but you waved him off, downing your drink as if it was a shot of tequila rather than a glass of wine.

‘I don’t see a problem though,’ he blinked at you, not following. ‘We’re alone. Why not… See each other naked again?’

‘Right. We can also- Y/N-ah!’

‘What?’ You eyed his suddenly enthusiastic form with nothing but suspicion.

‘We can create a distraction!’

‘Hm?’

‘A distraction for them. So that they’d be busy with something else while we’re away.’

‘Hmm?’ You still couldn’t locate the source of his excitement.

‘Lemme show you,’ he slurred, tugging on your wrist to get you up and dragging you to the bedroom.

Let’s have another baby – that was his brilliant idea. Had you both not been such poor drinkers, one of you would’ve thought this through.

Nevertheless, you were glad that you didn’t. Because your little angel, who could sometimes be more of a tiny demon, to be frank, was the single sweetest thing to ever exist on planet Earth. He had his entire family wrapped around his little finger, and you – most of all. How could anyone blame you? That troublemaker was the spitting image of his dad and had a personality to match — just as playful and affectionate.

The chill spring breeze from the window licked at the bare skin of your arm, causing you to shiver slightly, coming back from the land of reminiscing. You stretched on the bed, noticing how protruding your nipples became from the cold even while hidden by the gentle fabric of your nightgown. Pulling the covers up, you grunted under your breath, wondering what was taking Baekhyun so long.

Just as you did, the door cracked open, and your husband sauntered into the room.

‘Ah finally, I thought I needed to go rescue you again,’ you chuckled.

That had happened before. He once used the common bathroom to shower before bed and ended up captured by your daughter, who was around six or seven at the time, in the hallway. She then demanded cuddles, knowing that her father was too weak to turn his precious girl down and send her back to bed. You found them both huddled up asleep on the couch, with your husband’s head tilted dangerously to the side. Terrible sleeping postures always had consequences, so you spared him the agony of the next morning, waking him up mercifully and helping to get your little girl to her bed. This was only one of many occasions – Baekhyun was a softie.

This time, however, he was a bit stupefied.

He didn’t react to your remark and seemed like he was going on autopilot when he came closer and sat on the bed.

You lifted the covers, inviting him to join you, and he followed your lead, still staring at the wall across the room.

‘Yeobo,’ you called, getting slightly alarmed. ‘Are you okay?’

He blinked, the stupor breaking, and looked at you with astounded eyes.

‘I- I think,’ he began, making you shift to face him properly. ‘I think I just overheard our daughter watching porn!’

His voice lowered to a whisper by the end of that sentence.

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered back. ‘How do you figure?’

‘I was walking down the hallway, and I thought I heard something from her room. I didn’t fully register what it was, but now that it processed… It was definitely porn!’

The signs of distress on his face almost caused you to break down in a fit of laughter. You held it in with all you got. Fathers and daughters, the eternal struggle.

‘First of all, ew. Aren’t you even a little bit ashamed to be eavesdropping on your kids like that?’ You didn’t let him protest. ‘Also, how do you even know it was porn, you know she sometimes mumbles and whimpers in her sleep. Like someone else we know…’

Giving him a pointed look, you leaned over his chest to turn the lights to the lowest mode, leaving the room dimly lit. It was always effective when you wanted to help him relax.

‘I wasn’t ea- And you think I can’t tell what porn sounds like? There are some generic… sounds. That give it away.’

‘When was the last time you watched it?’ You murmured, eyeing him curiously.

Of all people, you knew best how short his attention span was. Sometimes it could work to your advantage. Like right now, when you needed to de-escalate this before you could reason with him.

‘I- wh- I don’t know, probably when you were pregnant,’ he recalled. ‘The third one was somehow the toughest on me. You looked way too attractive for a heavily pregnant lady, let me tell you.’

‘Heavily pregnant??’ You scoffed, softening right after. ‘Well, you have a point, he was pretty huge. I swear, if he doesn’t grow up to be taller than Chanyeol, I’d be offended. That boy’s giant head prolonged my healing by at least a month.’

Baekhyun sighed and looked up at the ceiling, thinking back to that time.

‘He was the only one who caused you to tear, right?’

‘Yeah. Which is weird, considering that he was my third one. Ah well, I guess I’m not getting any younger…’

‘Aren’t you though? I’m constantly being asked about my pretty young wife,’ Baekhyun smiled at you charmingly. ‘And you only became prettier after the third pregnancy. I say it’s the hormones.’

Your cunning little plan was working. He was incredibly easy to distract.

‘Tell me the truth, was it the boobs? Or my butt? I did gain the most weight with the little daredevil, that’s for sure.’

‘It was all of you. You always looked so sexy when pregnant, I just wanted to have you all to myself,’ he cooed at you. ‘To feed you handpicked strawberries. And smother you with kisses. My beautiful young wife.’

At some point during this conversation, you shuffled closer to each other, now cuddled up snugly on the bed. Your finger slowly traced abstract patterns on his chest, happily exploiting the access to his skin where his pajama shirt was unbuttoned.

‘Ah, you’re just saying that to get under my nightgown,’ you batted your eyelashes at him, and he shook his head.

‘Maybe a little, but that’s true. And it’s not surprising that people are noticing – you are younger than me.’

‘A couple of years is nothing at our age,’ you murmured, bending your knee and moving your leg slightly up his to get cozy.

‘Well, you know what people say… Small kids make parents younger. Wanna have another one?’ He nudged you gently and laughed at the dirty look you gave him.

‘Yeobo- please don’t make jokes like this. I’d rather look for other elixirs of youth than go through that entire ordeal again.’

You knew that he was kidding, but the thought made you shiver.

‘I know, honey, I know. Like I said, you’re not in need of any elixirs.’

At this you relaxed, melting into his shoulder, and guiding his arm to wrap around you, warming your exposed shoulders.

‘Well, Mr Byun, same to you. Still as charming as two decades ago.’

‘Hey, I’d like to think that I’m more charming now. The experience and all.’

‘Who helped you gain all that experience though?’ You poked him lightly, and a low chesty laugh escaped his lips.

‘Of course, it was my one and only, my young, and beautiful, and smart and sexy little wife,’ he punctuated each compliment with a chaste kiss to your cheeks, nose, lips, and neck.

You squirmed in his arms.

‘Ah, you make a woman go mad,’ you purred into his lips mockingly.

He snickered softly, ready to lean in, but then stopped abruptly.

‘Wait a second- What about-’

‘Baekhyun…’ You murmured as he fussed on the bed.

‘I should probably go in there, and-’

‘And what? Embarrass your daughter?’ You held him down. ‘She’s sixteen, honey, it’s just the hormones. We’ve both been there. Let her be.’ You nuzzled his neck, pressing your lips to his sensitive skin lazily.

His mind was growing cloudy again since your hand was now caressing his inner thigh foxily. He’d probably realized what you were doing by now, but you were right, so he allowed you to sway him into giving the idea of an immediate intervention up.

‘Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t be nearly as appalled if that was our eldest,’ you scoffed and added in an exaggerated tone. ‘Never took you for a sexist.’

‘But- he’s eighteen, and she- she’s my little girl…’ He mumbled in a small voice, hazed further by your not-so-subtle seduction. ‘I can’t let her- watch that-’

‘Don’t worry, yeobo,’ you whispered soothingly in his ear, slipping your hand into his loose pants. ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Without you. No need to traumatize the poor girl, that’s how daddy issues develop.’

‘You should know,’ he bit back meekly, sighing when you finally wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard length.

‘The sass! It’s almost like you still got it, Mr Byun. Care to impress that young wife of yours?’

‘I sure will, you cunning woman,’ he growled playfully, completely giving in to it and attacking your laughing mouth as he lifted the covers over your head.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As usual, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments/ asks, and if you’re new – check out my Masterlist ^^

#theBBHday #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun scenario #exowritersnet #supermwritersnet #baekhyun event #baekhyun fanfic #dad!Baek #puppydad!Baek #icequeenbae fics

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kakubun · 3 years

Text

toji and megumi duo hcs!!!??!?!

a/n: if toji wasn't broke then gojo's breakup wouldn't have happened😍😍

manga spoilers!!

okay on a more serious note, they would be the most powerful duo but this is wayyy before they're the deemed to be an epic duo

toji would be the "okay now do it" without even teaching megumi how to do it and sometimes megumi struggles on what to do because of his old man

lowkey he's such a mean dad when megumi's all grown, that's why megumi's all bruised up when toji's on his missions and work, dragging megumi along to 'teach' him

"we're home-" once mamaguro hears those words, she immediately rushes towards her son whose all beat up and exhausted

(pls she would be the most kindest and caring mom ever :(( )

mamaguro would dote on her son, patching up any wounds and putting plasters while hearing them argue on how this isn't even teaching him how to fight if he keeps coming back all hurt

"teach your poor son how to fight properly, you irresponsible idiot-" she nags toji, pinching harshly at his cheek while he rolls his eyes and shakes off mamaguro's hand away from him.

bad idea that he tried to taste mamaguro's food that was cooking in the pot because he just got smacked by a laddle.

the ass he is, he tried to teach his son how to fight against curses

keyword: tried

being a dad with no cursed energy and a son who has potential with his cursed energy is completely half baked when not putting it to the test properly

when megumi summons his divine dogs, best believe toji would jump back a little

megumi smirked, knowing that progressing without his father would work since he believes that he works better without an irritating someone bothering about it for days

mamaguro would be extremely proud of her son and smother him in hugs which he hugged back with one arm loosely hugging her back while the other catches the spoon she flipped when she ran to him

these small progresses in their days would always have toji saying "oh i taught him that" which was a big fat lie and megumi had no way of calling him out when his mom then smothered her husband with kisses

(either megumi looks disgusted with how his dad smooches his mom back or he completely ignores them and pats his dogs)

now there is a time where toji would meet gojo annnd geto

so basically before toji trains megumi and all (boy is in school let him learn),

he was assigned to take down this second grade curse and setting out on the mission inmediately with his ugly worm

but the problem is this curse needed to be exorcised by gojo and geto because it was causing a ruckus in a village and ordered by the higher ups so they crossed paths coincidentally

"okay listen old man, we need to t-" "-it's mine boys, i need my money" gojo was a little close to cursing the man out because he just wanted to go back and chillax but geto held him back and whispered to gojo to focus on toji's cursed energy.

which is? none.

they were thinking on how a man with zero cursed energy will take a big fat curse, even with his bulky build and strong looking biceps, they doubt he could even take the curse out with his own two bare hands.

toji's lips stretch into a grin, noticing how they gone all quiet and asked them to sit back and relax as he starts coughing out the worm out his mouth and sling his katana over his shoulder when he casually walked to the curse.

gojo and geto quickly seperated from each other and ran towards the curse (well gojo was focused on toji rather than the curse as payback for ruining his evening) but toji was fast enough to slash the curse and it melts to the ground in heaps of goop.

toji leaped away from them, waving to them like the menace he is.

and well, this incident was one of the situations that set off into them meeting again and again, even geto was annoyed with this repetitive ordeal.

so when gojo saw megumi's dad when he randomly showed up to the school, he immediately shut his mouth and megumi questioned on why gojo suddenly wasn't chatty anymore

"that's my uh dad" -yOUR wHaT??!" geto could've joined him screaming if he was there but he was busy with shoko, investigating the curses that he managed to catch

i feel every interaction with gojo and toji in this au, it's them constantly insulting each other and shooting daggers which would make megumi pat his dad's back to go tf home

so knowing that gojo was megumi's teacher, toji would one day drag megumi away so he could see what that freak has taught his son, (or if he even teaches him-) probably way more better than him

the thought made him shrug but he was expecting a grand show from megumi which megumi gladly delivered

toji being impressed was an understatement, he didn't show it but with how much stronger megumi was, it made him kinda proud of his son

so when megumi would dissappear anonymously from the school sometimes, of course itadori and nobara would ask gojo why is that and gojo would always mumble out his response and not give a clear answer

thank god geto's there and he tells them that his dad drags him on missions and it's also concerning if that was even allowed for the school but if it was that way, he doubts megumi should be in the school in the first place with how much he dissappears

so since it was an off day, the duo investigated and looked out for megumi with the help of shoko since she was the last person he saw to ask for a plaster before he left with his dad

what shocks the both of them is to see megumi and toji in general just teaming up

"oiii~ over here kiddo!" megumi clasped his hands into one of his shikigami's signs and let his shikigami attack the curses breeding out in the forest while toji cut his way through the abundance of curses just loitering everywhere.

megumi hopped onto the last bigger curse that his dad was on and kicked through it while toji shreds through it's spine with his blade and swiftly ended it's life.

toji raised his hand in the air and megumi nonchalantly high fived back and his dad laughed, telling how good his son is with how much he improved and it might've shocked megumi a little to hear that his father notices that.

nobara and itadori shrieked in unison but with different questions, nobara was just a little suprised to see that the hunk of man megumi calls a dad had (-finish the sentence) while itadori shouts out that he was actually working with someone.

megumi grumbled to see both of them and was he embarassed? maybe. toji poked his side and asked megumi to bring them along so they could chat a little at their home.

i just know nobara and megumi would LOVE mamaguro so much, they would tease him when his mom starts kissing megumi's face all over when they reached home

best cook mamaguro? best cook mamaguro!

the two idiots could sob at how good the food is and they would compliment itso many times, mamaguro would fluster around and waved her hands to tell them to stop praising her and just countinue eating

toji would defitenely make his wife's face go even redder with whatever the hell his smooth ass would say

he side glanced at his son to see that he softened a little around his friends and a genuine smile drew on his lips as he countinued on his conversation, happy to see his son being comfortable around other people besides his family

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jjk megumi #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #toji headcanons #toji x you #toji x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

The Nie brothers time travel but something goes wrong and they end up in each other bodies. So now they have to defeat WRH, find a way to curb JGY worst tendencies, and hide (and undo) the switch before any cultivator decides they are possesed by evil spirits

“I can’t do this,” Nie Huaisang announced heavily. “I can’t. Nope. Cannot. No way.”

“You apparently found a way to time travel into the past,” his brother pointed out. He was taking this entire thing very calmly – or, rather, like he’d heard a really great joke. It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang had forgotten that his brother had a sense of humor hidden under the rage, especially in the earlier years before Jin Guangyao got at him, but he may have downplayed his memories of how annoying it was to be the target of it. “Your abilities are clearly well beyond what you’ve been leading me to believe.”

“I’m sneaky,” Nie Huaisang explained. “I can scheme and plot and play politics, sometimes, if I have to. But I cannot be a general!”

I cannot be you, he meant. He might currently be inhabiting his long-dead brother’s body – an unfortunate side effect of messing up the time travel array, he suspected, but then again experimental things were often imperfect – while his brother’s spirit had been cast out into his own former self, but he wasn’t his brother.

He could never be.

(But Nie Mingjue was alive, alive and well with bright eyes and that stupid smirk that didn’t fit right on Nie Huaisang’s smaller face except in the ways it sort of did, and that was all Nie Huaisang had ever wanted in his life, other than Jin Guangyao to pay in blood and shame for depriving him of it.)

“Why not?” his brother asked. He leaned back and stretched lazily. Nie Mingjue never did a lazy thing in his whole life, so it was deliberate. He was enjoying this. “We have a battle strategy, already decided; most of the rest of it is on-the-ground tactics, which can be done just as well from behind the lines as at the front of them. There’s a reason that no one ever settled on the best place for a war-leader to be – it comes down to temperament.”

Nie Huaisang threw his hands into the air. “I know that! I was sect leader for nearly two decades, da-ge; I assure you, I’ve heard all the sect’s philosophical musings by now. But I don’t have your temperament – there’s no way someone won’t figure out what’s happened, that we’ve switched, and that’ll be a disaster.”

“Two decades,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully, focusing on the entirely wrong part of the conversation.

“A decade and a half to avenge your untimely murder,” that got a flinch out of his brother and his focus back, just as Nie Huaisang had wanted, “and another five to find a way to come back and avert it entirely.”

Nie Huaisang had always been resourceful. Resourceful, and ruthless – sometimes to a degree that scared even him.

When he was younger, it was okay. After all, the only thing he used it for was sneaking treats and spoiling himself, and it didn’t really matter if he was ruthless about stuff like that. And then his brother died – was murdered – and suddenly he knew what it was like to be his brother: a young man suddenly shoved into the role of sect leader, and having to balance everything he now had to be against the overwhelming blistering hatred he bore for and the crippling weight of the vengeance he had sworn against a man who had taken away someone he loved forever for something as pointless and ephemeral as political advantage.

(He had to take a deep breath at the mere thought of it, the family rage spiking under his skin. It was a bit of a surprise, actually, to find that his brother didn’t have more of it - he’d always assumed that his rage was lesser, weaker, the way his golden core was, but no. It turned out their rage was just the same.)

“So what you’re saying,” his brother said, and he was smirking again, oh no, “is that you’re focused, efficient, and unyielding in pursuit of your goals, given the right motivation. That sounds like general material to me.”

“Not if the goal is to make sure no one knows what’s happened,” Nie Huaisang hissed. Had own face always looked so incredibly punchable? “Da-ge, it doesn’t matter what type of general I might be. What matters is that it’s not the same type of general you are – you’re always at the front line, leading the charge. I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” his brother said. “By the time you’re in the middle of a charge, you’re not really thinking tactics anymore. It’s all just fighting, and I know you know all the moves, no matter how much you bitch and moan about having to practice them.”

Nie Huaisang glared, crossing his arms over his chest – his brother’s arms, his brother’s chest, and this was still just too weird. He hadn’t even had time to properly weep and cry and hug his brother the way he’d expected to in the event the time travel array worked; they’d had to jump straight into explanations and strategizing because there was a pretty big battle happening in less than twenty-four hours and they needed to fix this first.

His brother rolled his eyes at him, and for the first time Nie Huaisang realized that his brother was going to have no problem at all pretending to be him – the acting problem here went only one way. “Just let Baxia handle the aggression part, okay? The rest is muscle memory, and I, at least, have done enough to build that in.”

“Letting the saber spirit in like that is dangerous, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang reminded him, eyes narrowed. His brother was also assuming that Baxia would agree to be wielded by anyone other than her beloved master, which was a stretch – she barely even agreed to be sharpened by someone else, resisting violently whenever someone tried.

Jin Guangyao had died still bearing the scars from his attempt.

“Well, apparently I get murdered before it becomes an issue, so why worry?” his brother cackled, and Nie Huaisang glared harder. It had no impact whatsoever: Nie Mingjue stood up and stretched again. “You know what, Huaisang, if you’re feeling the need to sit around and pity yourself, you’ve got at least a few incense sticks’ worth of time to do it in before actually doing something becomes necessary – I, on the other hand, am going to do something productive with my time.”

“Like what?”

His brother grinned at him with teeth. “Saber training. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Nie Huaisang picked up a teacup and hurtled it at his beloved big brother’s head. Naturally, Nie Mingjue dodged, effortlessly, and left laughing.

“At least pretend like you’re going to behave!” Nie Huaisang bellowed after him, but his brother just waved at him, and – ugh. This was vengeance for a lifetime of laziness, wasn’t it? Coming to bite him in the ass.

After a few minutes, Nie Huaisang picked up another teacup – they always had dozens of them in the Nie sect, cheaply made in bulk and specifically designed to shatter easily because of the family tendency to throw stuff around and not calm down until something was broken, and better a cheap teacup than an expensive door or table, better something designed not to hurt anyone who happened to get in the way or didn’t know how to duck faster enough – and threw it against the door again.

It shattered beautifully. NIe Huaisang had only rarely been able to get it to do that, and never so effortlessly – the advantage of his brother’s strength.

Strength, and height. Nie Huaisang was tall now.

Okay, self-pity could wait until later. Nie Huaisang was going to go patrol the camp for a little bit and enjoy looking down at all the people.

It was going to be great.

It was, too. Even talking with people wasn’t as difficult as he thought it was going to be. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised at that; he had been sect leader for years, so he was accustomed to answering questions and making on-the-fly rearrangements and responding to things with leading questions that made the other person come up with the solution on their own, not to mention saying encouraging things that made people feel better about things.

He’d had to do a lot of that, being the Head-shaker, and even more afterwards, when he’d shed his disguise like a cicada shedding its skin.

It was easier now than it had ever been before, of course. The Nie sect was still strong, under his brother’s leadership; his disciples didn’t have that discouraged look lurking in the back of their eyes, the shame of being led by the disgraceful Head-shaker. It was easy to brighten someone’s day with a nod in their direction, disciples blooming like roses at the sight of their stern sect leader looking approving, and the questions he received were far more intellectually stimulating than the usual – less about making sure he knew what he was supposed to do and more actual puzzles, things that had really tripped people up.

Nie Huaisang tried at first to keep his answers short, tried to pretend to be more stoic and stand-offish the way the famous Chifeng-zun ought to be, except when he did everyone just smiled at him the way they always had when he’d been the Head-shaker – a little indulgent, a little pitying, a little “well he’s trying his best” – and after a while Nie Huaisang started remembering things he’d long ago forgotten.

Things like how his brother was actually kind of a mess sometimes, emotionally speaking – he was the sort of person who got weepy over dramatic literature – and how he’d never quite gotten the hang of people, how he valued his friends like gold and held grudges way too long and promoted people just because they seemed decent; how he sometimes spent his entire money pouch and more on buying Nie Huaisang stupid trinkets because it seemed to make him happy, even borrowing money from their escort, which would always be doubled over laughing at how their fearsome sect leader couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Like how Nie Huaisang’s sect was his family, aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters, whether born in or adopted or just part of the sect. The good type of family – not always the closest, not always your friends, not always even people you really liked, but still all predisposed to take your side in a fight if it came down to it.

These were the people who supported him and stood behind him – even when he was the Head-shaker.

He’d almost forgotten.

And so, despite himself, Nie Huaisang softened a bit. He stopped trying to respond to everything with a grunt or a huff, started asking about people’s families, making suggestions, telling them they’d done a good job.

“Glad you’re out of your mood,” Nie Yongbiao, who’d been quietly trailing him, finally commented, and Nie Huaisang blinked owlishly at him. “What kicked it off this time? You usually only get that closed-mouth after having to host guests.”

And that was true, wasn’t it? It had been such a long time, and after so much trauma, that Nie Huaisang had forgotten how his brother used to shut down whenever there was a discussion conference or an important meeting – how it took him longer and longer to get better on the other side as the qi deviation drew nearer, his meridians filling with Jin Guangyao’s spiritual poison. By the end, he had barely ever been open and free, barely seemed to remember how to drop his guard and relax, to act like a regular person with a sense of humor again, be the person Nie Huaisang knew his brother to be.

But that was then, and this was now - war had been good for Nie Mingjue, in a strange way. Here in the camps there was a lessened expectation of etiquette, a great appreciation of strength, and his brother was more free to be himself, straightforward and blunt as the off side of a saber.

(Nie Mingjue had tried so hard to be a good brother to Jin Guangyao, Nie Huaisang abruptly remembered, but he’d shut down after every visit, worse than ever before. His heart had known the truth, even if he had allowed himself to be convinced by Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang to keep giving Jin Guangyao second chance after second chance. He should never have listened to them.)

“Argument with Huaisang,” he said, a safe answer, and Nie Yongbiao nodded wisely.

“Can you say what it was about?” he asked, rather unexpectedly – Nie Yongbiao wasn’t exactly talkative, and no one ever pried about their family affairs. Catching Nie Huaisang’s surprised look, he shrugged. “He’s obviously very upset.”

“He is?”

“He’s at the training field,” Nie Yongbiao stressed, and Nie Huaisang had to choke down a hysterical laugh. Of course Nie Yongbiao would think that something must have gone horribly wrong to get “Nie Huaisang” to go willingly to train.

Nor was Nie Yongbiao the only one, for that matter: when Nie Huaisang arrived at the training field they’d set up in the middle of the camp, he saw an entire crowd of Nie sect disciples milling around at the edge of the field, bearing a suspicious resemblance to a flock of over-anxious quail.

He reached up to his face, pretending to want to pinch the bridge of his nose but actually to smother a smile, and luckily he had regained control of his features by the time he reached the edge of the small sea of disciples because they immediately all turned to him with relieved expressions, their cries of “Sect Leader! Sect Leader!” ringing in his ears like the coos of his pet birds.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, and immediately received the full story: Nie Huaisang had come to the field looking upset – one person insisted there had been tears in his eyes – and had set himself up against a practice dummy, and he hadn’t stopped whacking at it ever since.

Clearly, the world was ending.

“We had an argument earlier,” Nie Huaisang admitted, and managed, barely, not to laugh at how they all looked at him with disapproving eyes. “I’ll talk with him.”

Approving nods all around, although they didn’t disperse.

“Sect Leader,” one of the older generation said, very hesitantly. “If it’s about – the clan matter – if there’s anything we can do to help –”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, feeling touched. When it really had been him, his brother had kept the specifics of it secret – the tombs, the inevitability, the deterioration he was so avidly trying to put off – until it was too late, and he’d had to learn about it the hard way; it was nice, though, that they apparently all worried so much on his behalf about it.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “But it’s a different issue.”

Namely, the issue was that the person doing the training wasn’t Nie Huaisang at all, he thought, but when the crowd finally started breaking apart, people going back to their assigned tasks, and he finally managed to make his way to where his brother was, he was surprised to see that his brother really did appear to be upset.

He wasn’t practicing any of his normal training routines, but rather wielding Aituan in the same way a novice woodcutter would wield an axe: repetitive strikes, made wildly and with too much strength, as if hitting the practice dummy was the only thing that could vent his feelings.

“Uh, ‘Huaisang’?” Nie Huaisang asked, worrying his lip as he came closer. “Are you –”

His brother dropped Aituan to the ground – which, hey! Watch it, that was his saber! – and turned, and Nie Huaisang had only a moment to see his glassy eyes before his brother threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

Nie Huaisang automatically responded, wrapping his arms back around and holding Nie Mingjue close – it was nice, he thought, to finally have the reach he’d always felt he should have, big and tall and enveloping in its warm the way his brother had been for him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low enough not to carry. “Did something happen…?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, but his lips were pressed together to keep them from trembling. Nie Huaisang’s body had always been free with his emotions, much to his annoyance; he’d learned to cultivate it into a disguise, but he hadn’t really liked it. Tears had never been a relief for him the way they’d been for his brother. “No, it’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Nie Huaisang said firmly, and carted him off back to his tent. Being as worried as he was, he did his best not to be too smug about finally being the one who was strong enough to pick his brother up, rather than the other way around – not that he needed to, what with his brother following docilely along with him – but there was, perhaps, a little bit of smugness. “Okay, we’re back, silencing talismans are back up because we apparently have the nosiest disciples. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, really…”

“Da-ge.”

“I left you alone,” his brother blurted out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “For twenty years. Whatever I did, however I got murdered – some moment of carelessness – it doesn’t matter. I failed you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no–

“No,” he said out loud. “No, da-ge, you were tricked – it wasn’t – it wasn’t your fault.”

“I always said I would hold up the sky for you,” Nie Mingjue said bitterly. “And instead I left you with the same inheritance that I received. I never wanted that for you, Huaisang. Never.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said helplessly. “Da-ge, you don’t understand. You were trying. You wanted – you were doing everything you could. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail me. I was the one who failed you. I’ve always failed you –”

“Never!”

“I’m lazy, I’m selfish, I’m good-for-nothing, a head-shaker –”

“So what?” his brother said, glaring up at him. His eyes were red, but with tears, not qi deviation. “Even if it’s true, which it isn’t, because no head-shaker could have avenged me, could have found a way to come back, could have become the Nie sect leader and kept it for two decades, even if it’s true – so what? As long as you’re safe, I don’t care. As long as you have a way to defend yourself, and you so obviously must have, then nothing else matters. Nothing has ever mattered but your happiness.”

“And yours,” Nie Huaisang shot back. “You have the right to a life too, da-ge! You – you should have had my support. You should have been able to share your burdens, I should have helped you instead of anchored you down –”

“Huaisang –”

Nie Huaisang pulled him in tight again. “It’ll be different, this time,” he promised, his voice rough. “I’m older than you ever go the chance to be, da-ge. This time, I can help you with the things you’re not good at – I can do the politics, the people. We can bear the weight of the sect together.”

He felt a whisper in the back of his mind that was strange and yet familiar, approving. Baxia, he realized. Baxia, approving of him; Baxia, who would let him wield her, and he sensed her confidence that no one would get past her iron guard, together protecting his brother in both body and soul.

“All right,” his brother said. “Together. You and me – and the others.”

“Others?”

“After so many years, you must know who’s trustworthy,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. Already back to being practical, even if he was wiping his eyes. “If we tell those people, they can help us keep up the impression that I’m you and you’re me for as long as we need it.”

Nie Huaisang was nodding along, because that made sense, only then his brother said the last part and it was like a sunrise had opened up in his head, the way terrible and wonderful ideas always did.

“Da-ge,” he said, tasting the words in his mouth. “Da-ge, how do you like my body?”

His brother blinked up at him. “It’s fine, I guess? You’re actually in pretty decent shape, better than I thought, and your cultivation is – well, you could do a bit more with that, honestly, but it’s not uncomfortable or anything. Why?”

Nie Huaisang smiled. He’d always been remarkably resistant to their family’s cultivation curse, and not only, as he’d pretended to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji all those years ago, because he didn’t practice - it was his temper, or lack thereof, that softened the saber spirit’s effects on him.

Even if his body’s cultivation increased, he was far enough behind the curve, with his mediocre talent, that it would take decades for him to reach the level that it would be dangerous to him, while his brother’s prodigious talent, coupled with his inheritance of the family temper, made him even more likely to succumb – it was that prediction which had worried him so much that he had sought out treatment even before it had become a serious problem, the same worries that had driven him into Jin Guangyao’s trap.

What do you think? he asked the brand-new whisper in his mind. Aituan would probably bitch and moan about having to actually do things, but he’d secretly enjoy getting a bit more evil-killing in; the question was Baxia. What would she think?

A purr of agreement.

“I was just thinking,” Nie Huaisang said. “Chronologically speaking, I’m older than you are. I ran the sect for years – it might be hard to let go of that habit. How about we just…stay as we are, for now?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “Baxia –”

“I’ll use her in public, and Aituan in private,” Nie Huaisang interrupted. He’d known that would be his brother’s first concern. “And you’ll do the opposite. And when we’re settled enough, we’ll come up with some excuse to switch.”

His brother hesitated. “But…you don’t like doing things. Responsibility. That sort of thing.”

“I got over it,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Trust me, I have a whole system – I’ll implement it once the Sunshot Campaign is done; you’ll be amazed at how much easier it makes things, and then all the things that are left over are the stuff I actually enjoy. And this way, you could…I…”

He swallowed, and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. He didn’t want to manipulate his brother into something like this – he didn’t want to manipulate his brother at all. His brother deserved the truth and honesty he had always freely given the world, and so Nie Huaisang could only offer up the unvarnished truth.

“I want to do this for you, da-ge,” he said. “I want you to have the life you should have had. I want you to have hobbies again, to make friends, real friends that will put you first. I want you to have fun with them without thinking of how people might think about it…please, da-ge. I came back here to keep you alive, but I want more than that. I want to see you live.”

“Okay,” his brother said, and he was choking back tears again. “We’ll – we’ll discuss it later, but I’ll think about it. Okay.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now catch me up on the tactics we’re planning on using in tomorrow’s battle, and I’ll let you know everything I know about what happens in the future…oh, and one more thing.”

“Oh?”

Nie Huaisang’s hand dropped to the table, parallel to Baxia; he could hear her purr in his mind whistling like the rumble of thunder. He smiled.

“Can you tell me where Meng Yao is?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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