#so it communicates a slightly tense message in a way that makes them smile instead of getting grumpy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveofafangirl · 3 years

Photo

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field. *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it.

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N.

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him.

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed."

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out.

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble.

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years."

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch.

65 hours.

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower.

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected.

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true.

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you.

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips.

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be.

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead.

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt.

57 hours.

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you.

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you.

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy."

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks.

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why.

51 hours.

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed.

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you."

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately.

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic.

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world.

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for.

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it.

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand.

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him.

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?"

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself.

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too.

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not."

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite; @fandomxreaders ; @moonstuffsteve

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail ; @killsandthrills ; @noavengers ; @nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney ; @willowtheewisp ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo fan fiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #zemo #zemo x you #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl

237 notes · View notes

kittehkwrites · 4 years

Text

Seriously?

Summary: Your fiance notices you’ve been acting different and you don’t know how to tell him the reason for your change in behaviour.

Based on this request

Warnings: fluff

You finance noticed the change in your mood last week when you weren’t ask excited when he came back from shooting the last few scenes of his newest movie feature.

Last week

He walked in, expecting to see you smiling at the bottom of the staircase. Instead, he was met with you standing by the stairs, with a almost forlorn look and looking a little less lively in general.

“Hey baby.” He excitedly approached you, cautious that you may have been sick after the calls he’d have with you and the way your voice sounded tipped him that something was going on but you’d tell him in your own time.

As he got closer, he saw you tense.

There was a nervous look on your face now and he could see the way you’d slightly move and fidget but he kept moving closer because he wanted to feel you in his arms after being gone for so long and being restricted to video calls, random phone calls and texting when he could.

He was a step away with those long legs taking big strides as usual, only for you to dodge his embrace and he was shocked to say the least.

“Hey. Uh” you took the time to move out of his way and clear your throat before moving towards the kitchen, away from him, “I was just heading to the kitchen. You want anything?” You asked as you walked towards the kitchen space, not oncing looking back at him, not wanting to see his face drop like you thought it’d do once he realised you rejected his affection and for your cold greeting.

He watched you continue before gaining his composure and entering the room you were moving around in so comfortably in.

He stood watching you make yourself something to eat before he decided to speak up again.

“You ok?” You momentarily stopped at his tone of voice, one of worry and curiosity and you knew it was because you weren’t acting the same but you couldn’t help it.

“Yup. You” You took a big bite out of the sandwich you made and he watched your eyes get big under his gaze and it made his chest warm whenever he saw you even doing the bare minimum, like eating a sandwich.

“Yea.” He said curtly.

You were kind of taken back by the shortness but you knew he was hurt.

You continued eating under his questioning stare before he announced he’d be going up to the bed room you shared to take another shower and get some rest.

You wanted to go and shower with him, or be there when he got out of the shower to watch him walk out in a towel, brown skin all wet and smelling good but you didn’t think that was going to happen until you spoke your peace and even that didn’t look possible at any point until you could figure out how and when to tell the man you love that you got pregnant earlier then you both originally planned.

Fast forward to now, he’s had to sleep in a bed that he once shared with someone that would cuddle him for hours to being in a bed with someone so close but so far.

You had started putting pillows between you both at night, or you’d wait until you thought he was sleeping before you snuck into bed for the night.

Each morning you’d be up before him and it was like you were just roommates, not lovers and he was starting to question if you were having second thoughts about being with him.

He knew that you’d have times when you’d be so disconnected when he left for long periods of time and you both talked about the life he had and the way you were so supportive when he started out, to which you would say you’d always be supportive but it was still hard to think about him and he wasn’t available like he would be if he was at least in the same town as you.

He always had it in the back of his head that you weren’t alright with his career, no matter how much you reassured him that you were so proud to be apart of his life at the good and bad times and no matter what you guys would always work it out...

Yet here you were

Acting different after he was gone for an extended period of time.

He was going to address it soon if it continued into the next week.

He’d have to because he couldn’t risk losing you because you were unhappy.

If it meant investing into property around the way he’d be working, then he had no problem.

If it meant taking time off at times to stay with you longer or being able to rush off set, even getting them to work in the city you both lived in, then he’d make sure to do everything in his power to make that apart of his terms so that he could keep you happy like you have him.

I got to do whatever it take, or at least try, because if i lose her...I don’t know what i’d do with myself. He thought as he watched you walk around the dining table, sorting out documents for work, wearing your reading glasses that always made him feel somethin in the southern region.

That’s my baby. He thought, not know that his baby was having HIS BABY.

The following week quickly approached and you were still distant towards your fiance but you had finally figured out how to deliver the news as best you could.

You knew he was upset by the quietness in the house, which was out of the usual. He would normally be playing his old school jams over the house system, or be watching some movie that made him so excitable that he wouldn’t be able to hold in his anger if the characters acted stupidly or when something excited happened.

You were always happy to have him in the house with that energy after not being so content after him being gone so long or the odd times you would be out of the time for your job or visiting family when necessary.

You were nervous as the night came.

You sent him out to go hang out with some of his friends and told him you’d be cooking tonight.

That was something you’d normally do anyways. You wanted him to have his time away from you if it was an option and not an obligation. You were all for him going out with his friends and catching up and not making his friends your friends per say but knowing he could have people outside of the house to talk to relieved the worry of you guys being codependent on each other or not being able to have your own time from the other if it was constantly just the two of you.

Space was a must and it was communicated long before he was as booked and busy and you made sure to keep your word like he did with you.

But seeing as the week before you weren’t acting the same, you stunned him when you walked him to the door, touching his forearm and planting a kiss on his cheek, telling him to be safe and to have fun made him scared to comeback afraid he did something but he couldn't think of anything in that moment.

You almost made him convulse when you gently kissed him before retreating into the house and closing the door. There was a fleeting shyness that showed on your face at the look of love glossing over your fiance’s face so nicely.

He couldn’t actually believe you were showing some affection after so long but he wasn’t going to argue. He was going to do what you said and hang out with friends before he came home and faced whatever it is that you had planned.

While he had been gone, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and there being a strange reason to your change in behaviour.

His friends took notice of his face and he had to let them know it was a matter that only he and his fiance should be discussing. They knew he wasn’t one to share his problems with others but once he made it clear he’s fine, they enjoyed themselves and caught up on eachothers lives, chatting about work to cars to planning guys trips for the future (which they got the okay’s from their respective partners already) and it was a nice destresser for them all.

When it was time for them to depart from each other they made sure that they were all good to drive themselves home and they would message each other when they got in.

Gotta love a solid friendship between males that wasn’t ridden with toxic masculinity and scrutiny from each other.

Yahya made his way to his car, sitting in the drivers seat as the car warmed up and messaged you to notify you of his ETA to the house with a cute emoji at the end.

Once he saw you replied, he buckled up and made his way out of the parking lot to the place he called home to spend whatever time he had left with you before you broke whatever news it was you had to share.

He gripped the wheel a little tighter the closer he got to his destination but he tried to remain positive since you did show him some affection earlier, then again, that could’ve been to soften the blow...

Either way, he would do whatever it was to make sure you stayed happy and with him because you brought him joy and he wouldn’t know how to survive without you, muchless attempt to move on from you if you did decide to leave him.

When you received the message, you couldn’t help but feel like a giddy school girl getting a text from her crush, which wasn’t far from the truth as this man was the man of your dreams and you hoped to not mess up what you both had planned because you knew that there was no way to forget him for the rest of your life.

You did a quick once over of the place, seeing to it that you had everything sorted out and then made your way to the kitchen to get the rest of the food and the drinks in order.

By the time you finished setting up the table, you had managed to go and quickly freshen up and when you had finished you heard the front door unlocking and heard the timber of your fiance’s voice, calling out for you.

As he walked in and was hit with the aroma of the grilled salmon and sweet potatoes and was engulfed by the warmth radiating from the house.

He hadn’t felt like this since he returned from his time away shooting but he was going to accept it now, especially being out with the guys for long and only having two beers, he was surely hungry.

“Aye baybay” His southern accent called out again as he dropped his keys and closed the door to keep the warmth in.

“In here!” You responded, listening out for the approaching footsteps of your fiance towards the dining area.

You watched as he walked in but fell short a couple steps and slowed his pace at the view of you in front of the set table with that gentle smile across your soft face. The almost gold lighting from the mixture of the dimmed lights and the brown sugar scented candles made you appear as a beautiful angel...

Just as beautiful as the night I realised i wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives. He thought, a distant look almost encompassing his face before you pulled him out of the void to hand him his favourite drink

“A ‘Beautiful’ drink for my handsome man” You couldn’t help releasing a giggle at the pun and he couldn’t either as he snorted at your cheesy line before taking the drink out of your hand and planting a sweet kiss on your lips before taking a sip of the cocktail.

“This is good. Thank you, beautiful.” It was your turn to snort but there was no hiding the warmth that was felt through your body at the compliment and tenderness in his voice at the small gesture.

He placed another kiss on your lips after looking into those magnificent eyes that always seemed to see through his act since the day you both met.

He continued, the kiss getting deeper and desperate between you two.

You had to stop this before you chickened out and the food got cold.

“Baby,”-You pulled away, turning your cheek to his lips as he kept on with his caresses and groping-”the food is gonna get cold.” You whimpered out. It wasn’t gonna be cold anytime soon as you had just taken it out as you got side tracked earlier when you went to check on the food before he arrived.

You were just as touch deprived and you had no one to blame but yourself for that and if tonight went well then you wouldn’t mind catching up with the strapping man gripping your hips and staring deep into your eyes.

He took a deep breather and let you know he’d go up to freshen up quick then be back down.

You watched his figure move to the stairs; eyes wondering from his clothed wide-shoulders, down his small waist and then to his muscled behind that was looking good in his jeans.

You couldn’t help biting your lip but reminded yourself that the lust and love you had for this man is what caused you to be pregnant and you were scared so you needed to cool it on the initiating of any intercourse until you found out where he stood.

Once Yahya came back from his shower, you both sat at the table and it was a mix between a comfortable silence and then it got tensed once the both of you cleared your plates.

The clank of the cutlery hitting the plates brought you out of your short pep talk of getting the surprise but before you could get up and collect your fiance and your plates, he cleared his throat, catching your attention and holding you in your seat.

“So...” He voice was gentle.

He looked at you and you felt those butterflies you felt when you looked into his deep pools of brown the first day you met.

You knew he was going to question why you were acting funny for so long but you had to stop him before anything.

“Before you say anything, let’s have dessert and then we can talk.” You spoke up quickly and watched his shoulder drop slightly and you hoped this revelation wouldn’t run him and would allow him to ask all the questions he wanted and he would be happy in the end and not mad or anything of the sort.

He just nodded his head, placing his folded arms on the table with his head down. He was thinking to himself what it could be that you wanted to wait to talk about but he wasn’t to sure about what the hell he could expect or would come at the end of this revelation.

“Baby! Come in here! I need your help!” You shouted out.

You had set up your surprise and were thankful that he wasn’t on you like normal was and that meant he wasn’t going to be up on your shoulder and looking over you.

You had heard him approaching and you set up your camera and waited off to the side as he came in.

He felt the warmth and smelt the delicious scent of the beignets as he entered the kitchen.

You saw the smile spreading on his face once he saw the little mardi gras beads around the desserts and this was something you knew he was missing since he hadn’t had the sweet treats in a while and he had been reminded he hadn’t had a freeing celebration in a while like he would during Mardi Gras season.

You watched his face morph as he got closer and saw the onesie and took even more steps to read the cursive font on the white set.

(Pretend it says 2021🥴)

“Wait... Baby you serious?” His voice came out in a whisper.

He was in shock.

He kept looking between you and the set with the utlra sound and the cute outfit that you were afraid his eyes would roll around at some point.

“Seriously?!” He shouted. You couldn’t help but laugh and tear up as you felt the excitement radiating of him as it finally him and he repeated ‘oh shit!’

You were glad you were recording or else you wouldn’t be able to watch the pure joy on your fiances face as he jumped up and down at the news of the baby growing inside of you that he was sure you both created the night he was nominated for an emmy, cause boy did he lay some pipe that night.

He rushed to you and picked you up, spinning you around before you were able to laugh out a strangled ‘stop’ and placed you down only to have his hand pressed on you stomach and for the first time he could feel the hardness of your stomach and it answered why he wasn’t able to touch you.

You wanted to surprise him with the news and he was so happy for it.

“Baby, we’re making a baby. Oh my goodness we’re gonna have a baby!” When he said that you knew you were gonna be able to love this man for the rest of your life and it was all in your head to keep this from him.

He was your man until the end of time and you were his woman in the same.

This baby would be loved and was the beginning of your little family that you were ready to start.

That night, you sent your finance the video of his reaction and the picture of your announcement idea and he asked if he could share it.

You said yes and he tagged you in the post, captioning it with

‘The woman that I love has gifted me with something special and will truly be treasured by us both. Daddy loves you donut and just know that mommy and I got you your own beads for Mardi Gras!’

Within a few minutes he had multiple messages coming in from friends, family, various gossip sites from his publicitis and you were just laughing it up with each other

As you both got ready for bed, he just had to ask why you kept it hidden and if it was the reason you were acting off because he wanted to make sure.

You responded that you guys did agree to have kids but you weren’t sure how he’d react to the news since it was before you both had gotten married, like planned.

He just stared at you and understood where you were coming from.

He grabbed you hands, placing soft kisses on them before looking into your eyes and saying “I would never leave you because you are my one and only and this baby is a blessing since we made them with love. So just know that no matter what, I can never leave you and I wouldn’t want to.” You couldn’t but tear up at the gentleness in his voice and the way in which he could emit so much love and sentiment.

God damn hormones you cursed in your head and you had to giggle and he chuckled cause he could probably guess you were blaming your hormones and he just continued to kiss you all over your face getting you to let out laughs until you were close to peeing.

This man is so damn cute and I’m glad to have him, you thought as you watched your fiance sleeping by your side, hand on your stomach and gentle breathes heard through the room.

You placed a kiss on he forehead and laid your hand near his over your forming bump before closing your eyes and venturing into your dreamland.

Hey y’all!

Sorry I wasn’t so active last week🥴

Been caught up with uni work and then I spent my saturday with my dude and sunday is my rest day soooo yea 😂😂😂

But i hope you liked this and thanks to the anon that sent it in.

I’m accepting requests and I want to try and post requests on Mondays so gone on and send me some prompts and actors/characters and I’’l get on those 😁

Hope y’all have been doing alright other wise and have been staying safe.

Remember to check up on your friends, loved ones and make time for yourself.

Love y’all and like, reblog and/or comment and let me know what you thought.

-K💜

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul manteen ii x reader #yahya x reader #black reader #yahya fluff #imagine #kittehkwrites

233 notes · View notes

maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

Text

Not Your Typical 2

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort

Pairings: romantic Demus, background Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: autistic characters (Logan and Janus), arguments, panic attack/anxiety, ASL, talk of pretty bad ableist parenting/manipulation.

Song mentioned is Electric Love by BØRNS

Word count: 3.3k

“BABE!”

Janus’ head shot up seconds before Remus barreled into their room, clearly having run there, possibly all the way from his night class. He dropped his load of textbooks onto the floor, hopping from foot to foot.

“You have a backpack for a reason,” Janus sighed affectionately. His boyfriend shuffled the empty bag off his shoulders so it fell to the floor with his school supplies and resumed his hopping.

“Listen to this!” He held up his headphones, clearly holding himself back from just popping them on Janus’ head himself.

“New song?”

“Just listen!”

Janus snorted but put the offered headphones on, watching as Remus restarted the music from his phone.

It began quietly, a lilting melody that was quickly underlaid with a sharp beat. He raised an eyebrow at Remus; it was catchy, but did not seem like his boyfriend’s type of music. There was a surprising lack of… screaming. Or profanity. Or yodelling .

He had interesting taste in music.

But Remus just bounced on his toes, nearly wiggling until an electric guitar riff made Janus jump a bit. It wasn’t necessarily a bad jump, more one of surprise, but he gave a thumbs up anyways to reassure Remus. He closed his eyes as the verse began, relaxing in his chair and shutting his brain off.

Janus hadn’t even noticed he was tapping his hands on the arms of the chair until he peaked an eye open to see his boyfriend’s excited expression, not unlike a child on Christmas morning.

A bit after they’d started officially dating, Remus had accidentally discovered Janus’ once-least-favorite neurodiverse trait in himself; happy stimming. It was overly vulnerable and had gotten him teased too often when he was younger, so he had made a habit of masking the excited movement. It had only taken one date to the animal rehabilitation centre, and an hour long detour in the reptile area, for that barrier to break. But Remus had taken him for the sole reason of showing Janus the snakes, what was he supposed to do?

The first time he’d been totally natural around Remus (due to finding a green tree python, because oh my god Remus look at it!), bouncing and tucking his cheek to his shoulder and flapping his hands, his boyfriend had solemnly taken his hands, leaned far too close, and uttered something along the lines of ‘What the fuck was that and how do I make you do it again?’ Apparently he thought it was cute.

Preposterous.

And judging by the slow rising in the song’s pitch, that was exactly what Remus was attempting to trigger. Janus could feel a smile forming against his will as the music crescendoed, and with it came a floating sensation. It felt like fire shooting up his spine, or pop rocks in his skull, an addictive rush of joy that filled his body with adrenaline, the best possible butterflies in his stomach. His hands flapped in an effort to release the energy and for now he let them, the grin now making his cheeks hurt.

All at once the beat settled back to it’s verse tempo and Janus pulled the headphones off somewhat sheepishly.

“Hell. Yes.” Remus whispered, a matching wide smile stretching across his face. He cradled Janus’ face between his palms, as if he were something fragile, and edged forward until their noses booped, “You’re so. Goddamn. Cute.”

“Am not,” Janus forced out between his squished cheeks. It would have been much more convincing if he weren’t fighting off more happy wiggles.

Remus snorted and pressed a peck to Janus’ lip before whirling on his heels, more or less skipping to the common area.

“Logan, I did it!” He sang grandly. He twirled around the living room with a whoop, startling a laugh out of Janus. Virgil and Roman, who must have been situated on the couch, yelled as Remus splayed across them just out of Janus’ line of vision.

“Get off us, you oaf-”

“Jesus, Remus!”

“Oh Logaaaaan!”

Janus leaned against the doorway of their room to watch the scene unfold. Remus finally gave in to the pushing from their roommates and rolled onto the floor with a brilliant thud and a cackle.

“Get him off my foot!”

“He’s your brother.”

Remus snickered and promptly attached himself to Roman’s leg like a koala, digging his teeth into his shin.

“REMUS!”

“Yeth?” He asked around his mouthful. Roman freed the leg not being eaten and, with no preamble, delivered a solid kick to his brother’s side.

“I’ve been shot!” Remus wailed dramatically, rolling onto his back.

“I’m going to need a rabies shot!”

“I see the light-”

“Am I bleeding? Virgil, get the first aid kit!”

“Alas, the world goes dim! What an end, what an end…”

“What if they have to amputate?”

Janus’ hand could no longer muffle his laughter, and his laughing distracted Remus enough to get a dazzling smile from where he was laying half under the coffee table. The diversion seemed to remind him of why he’d come into the living room in the first place.

His face fell into a pout and he shrieked, “LOGAN!”

The door to Logan and Patton’s room flew open and the latter poked his head out with a violent shush.

“Logan is on the phone!”

True to his word, Logan was pacing their room behind him, stimming anxiously while he spoke into his phone in a completely neutral voice.

Virgil sat up straighter, earning a concerned look from Roman, who gave up on nursing the bite mark on his sweatpants. However, Remus was oblivious to the sudden tenseness in the air, kicking his feet onto the coffee table.

“Who is he on the phone with?” Virgil asked, slowly getting up from the couch.

Patton shut the door after a quick glance into the room. The rest of the dorm stayed silent until he’d clicked the latch into place, as if all holding their breath. Logan’s voice became just a murmur behind the wall as Patton met Virgil’s eyes nervously.

“It’s his parents,”

“WHY-” Patton shushed Virgil wildly, hands waving up a flurry. The man continued in a hushed tone but with just as much fury, “Why is he talking to his parents?”

Roman jumped up, probably to try and ease an almost-spitting Virgil but only succeeding in stepping on Remus.

“Ow!”

“Then why are you on the floor!?”

Virgil took a step toward Patton. “He hasn’t talked to them in a year-”

“I will eat your whole leg off!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Oh? OH!? When you wake up tomorrow with no legs, you’ll regret that!”

“Remus, just get up!”

He froze from where he’d been pushing himself up from the floor, gingerly lowering himself back down and crossing his arms. “Well, now I’m not going to.”

“Why don’t…” Janus faltered as every eye in the room settled on him, fighting his instinct to shut his mouth. They want to hear you, they want to hear you- “Why don’t we like Logan’s parents?”

Virgil and Patton answered at the same time.

“They’re assholes.”

“They’re not great p- language!”

If Janus remembered correctly, Virgil and Logan had known each other far longer than any of the others, though it wasn’t hard to surmise from Virgil’s reactions. He’d never seen him get so worked up.

“They’re ableist, homophobic pieces of sh-”

“But!” Patton interrupted, “We probably shouldn’t say more without Logan here.”

Virgil grumbled under his breath and dropped back onto the sofa, followed by Roman, who placed an arm around his shoulders. It did nothing to placate his anger, but he did lean marginally into his boyfriend’s side.

“We don’t like them,” Remus said in a falsely bright tone as he squirmed out from where he’d been trapped. “How long does he have to talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledick?”

“Language…”

“What do they want from him?” Virgil demanded. Was it Janus’ imagination, or were his eyes shinier than they’d been a minute before?

“I don’t…” Patton glanced at the closed door, “I’m sure Logan can tell you later. I’ll tell you as soon as he’s ready to talk, okay?”

They were given one more reminder to hush, and then Patton disappeared back into their room. The group fell into silence as soon as he was gone.

Remus broke the lull with a loud knuckle crack and a, “So, American Horror Story, anyone?”

No one complained, which Remus took as affirmation. Virgil had turned to burrow his face into Roman’s shoulder, which smartly, no one addressed. The opening credits flashed across the scene as Remus scrambled onto the loveseat, patting the spot next to him.

“Snakey, sit.”

Janus shook his hands briefly to dispel his nerves before taking the spot next to his boyfriend, leaning into his side. Every bit of contact that he initiated excited Remus to no end. He swung his arm over Janus’ shoulders and pulled him even closer and then, to Janus’ revolt, began to run his thumb lightly over his hand.

“Yuck, no, no no no, stop,” Janus squirmed, stilling Remus’ thumb with his other hand, and nestling even further into him.

“Oh, right. Forgot.”

“No harm done.”

They’d barely gotten through an episode of the show when the door opened behind them. Roman wasted no time shutting the TV off, and the four of them watched with rapt attention as Patton and a slightly disheveled Logan emerged.

“I hear there was some commotion over the content of my phone call.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Virgil snapped.

“Your concern is noted but unnecessary,” Logan replied curtly, “My parents called because I was not answering their messages.”

“They’ve been messaging you?!” Virgil hissed, pulling away from Roman’s hold to stand.

“Do they ever stop?” Logan rolled his eyes and finally released his death grip on his cell phone. He slid it into his back pocket instead. “For some reason they insist I come back home this summer.”

Him and Patton did that bizarre communicate-silently thing they did often, as Logan lifted his arm and his boyfriend attached to his side immediately. Perhaps one day, him and Remus would have that level of intuitiveness that puzzled him so. The thought made his face grow hot. A glance at Remus confirmed he hadn’t noticed, though.

“You haven’t gone back since first year. Why now?” Roman asked. His twin hummed in agreement.

Logan turned his gaze to the floor, taking a while to answer. “I don’t understand their timing. But they are threatening to withdraw financial assistance towards my schooling if I refuse.”

The room exploded into chaos.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“That’s not fair, after all they’ve done to you-”

“Would anyone notice if they went missing?”

“Remus-”

“You can’t go back there, Lo…”

“I wasn’t planning to! But now I may not have a choice, Patton.”

“When do you have to decide?” Roman asked, earning a glare from Virgil.

“It’s not a choice, he can’t go!”

“This is my choice, not yours, Virgil! Either way, the due date is in a week. I’ll have made my decision by then.”

Janus stiffened as the air was pulled from his lungs. “Wait, what due date?”

No one seemed to notice his question, however, as the volume in the room raised another octave. His words were lost to the level of shouting, completely invisible to everyone. He tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

As easy as it would have been to just fade into the background, as per usual, the unanswered question was burrowing a hole in his chest. Janus tugged on Remus’ sleeve.

“What due date?”

Finally, Remus turned sharp eyes from the conversation to him. The slightly manic glint to them softened as soon as he saw Janus’ panicked expression, and he shifted their hands so their fingers locked.

“S’when we gotta let the school know if you’re staying on campus for summer break. Didn’t you get the email?”

“What email?!” Janus hissed just as the arguing reached its peak. Logan had pulled himself away from (a decently distraught) Patton and was gripping his own arms with white knuckles.

“Why do you even care?! I’m fine!” He said through grit teeth.

“You’re clearly not,” Roman retorted. Virgil had pulled up his phone and was scrolling through it with purpose, clearly trying to find something.

“I’ll figure it out! This doesn’t have to be an event for everyone!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re-”

“Will you just drop it, Roman?!” Logan yelled, voice cracking.

Janus nearly bumped into Remus with the way he flinched. The other’s arm immediately tightened around him, a grounding pressure across his shoulders.

“I think we’re all tired,” Patton broke the tense air with a pleading tone, “Can we come back to this tomorrow? Please?”

Logan was gone without another word, followed by Patton after a round of strained good-nights.

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

As clingy a couple as they were, sleeping was a different matter. One time, one time only, they’d tried to cram onto one of their puny twin beds and that had lasted a whole half hour before they decided to never try it again. Janus needed his space if he even wanted a chance at a peaceful sleep, and Remus had the lovely habit of embodying a starfish with a caffeine problem, even when unconscious. How he fit on the tiny dorm beds by himself astounded Janus, what with how he splayed. Janus had gotten two full hits to the face before he’d leaned against the wall and pushed Remus to the floor with his feet. The man hadn’t stirred.

The next morning Remus had suggested (without thinking) that one day they’d just get a bigger bed, and Janus had turned a bright crimson at the easy way he had discussed their future together.

Either way, for now, they stayed in their respective beds, but at that moment, Janus was missing the distinctive feeling of being Remus’ teddy bear. His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, or perhaps a tornado. It was a flurry any which way, one that kept his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he couldn’t even see in the dark. Across the small room, he could hear Remus shifting, his breath catching every time he moved, meaning he was probably still awake as well.

“Remus?”

“Yeah, snakey?”

Guess he was right, then. Janus rolled towards him, even though he couldn’t make out anything in the pitch black.

“I can’t sleep.”

There was a chuckle from across the room. “Have you even tried?” It was a valid question; it hadn’t been more than five minutes since they’d turned off the lights.

“I mean, I won’t be able to sleep.” Janus sighed. He gnawed at his fingernails as louder shuffling came from Remus’ bed.

“Why not?”

There were a few things, if he was honest.

“Does Virgil get mad like that a lot?” Not what he’d meant to lead with, but oh well.

“Oh,” Remus replied lightly, “He wasn’t mad. He probably sounded real pissed though. He was just worried about Logan. They grew up together and all that shit, so Virgil got like a front row seat of all the shit they did to him. Taping his hands to tables so he didn’t flap ‘em, all that.”

Janus was speechless.

“Is that all that’s buggin’ ya?”

“Not really.”

“Spill the tea.”

In a familiar moment of self consciousness, Janus curled his knees into his chest. He wants to hear you, he wants to hear you. The blankets pooled around his waist as he sat up, hoping the position would somehow grant him more courage.

“I started thinking about… what Logan said, and now I don’t know if I want to go home or stay on campus over summer. I didn’t know that was even an option. But it would be so much easier to not have to pack up again, and I’m just getting used to it here, but what if my parents are mad, like Logan’s?”

The fairy lights that encircled their room flickered to life, revealing Remus had stretched to reach the switch from his bed.

“I didn’t get the email and now I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to stay on campus, what if I missed a due date? It’s my fault, I should have checked every folder and now I don’t know what to do, I…” Janus’ sentence bled into a hum from the back of his throat. The swirling flotsam of thoughts thickened, a swarm of bees being swallowed by their own honey; worries still existing, but now infinitely harder to reach and express.

“I don’t know what to do- I… I don’t, I can’t think, my brain’s too busy-” He wrapped his fists in his blanket to keep from gripping his hair. All of the sudden, he was a coiled spring and there was nothing he could do to loosen the pressure. He needed a release, he needed to move and to be held still, his chest full of helium but his arms filled with a colony of ants under his skin, every molecule separating and floating away. Janus shoved his fists into the blankets, pushing and pushing and begging for the awful pressure to disappear.

“Hey hey hey, take a breath, snakey. I’m right here.”

The bed dipped under Remus’ weight and his first reaction was to reach out but no, no the ants were still there, in his hands, and he bent them backwards at the wrist to kill the itch. Curl curl curl, and his fists were jammed against his jaw, pressure push stop stop-

“I’m trying, I am, I just-” He cut himself off with a sob that was more of a cough, drawing in a wheezing breath. Remus must be freaking out, he could tell, and god he wanted to stop but the cycle continued, cough and breathe in and try to squish the fucking ants.

“Do you want me to get Logan? Or Patton?”

No, no, no. Janus shook his head vigorously and pushed his fists under his legs, leaning forward to force his whole weight on the limbs. Yeah, yeah that felt better, more weight, he needed more-

“Pressure,” Janus gasped, interrupting whatever Remus had been saying but finding he couldn’t care less. He removed one hand from the safety he’d found and hit the heel of it to his chest. “I need- I need pressure, weight, I can’t-” Cough. Hum.

“Weighted blanket? Is that it?” The worry in Remus’ voice was so clear it was almost embarrassing, but Janus would never admit how much he adored it; it was a level of softness no one else was privy to.

“No-” The weighted blanket would have been his go to before, when he was alone, but it was never enough.

Deep pressure therapy, he remembered Logan calling it. A way to regulate the nervous system when it was going nuts, something about resetting the ‘fight or flight’ reflex. He couldn’t remember the details. But he could remember Logan’s explaining different forms of it.

“Hug?” Janus pleaded, rocking forward onto his hands once more.

“I- What…- Are you sure?”

Janus let out a broken sound. He nodded quickly, freeing a hand to circle it over his chest, palm flat, over and over. Please. Logically, he knew there was no time pressure, but there was an undeniable feeling of ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ rushing through him. Fight or flight, maybe.

Remus opened his arms and Janus was scrambling across the gap immediately, curling sideways on his lap. The only thing he could compare it to was dumping sand on a fire as Remus’ arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to his chest and pressing his nose into Janus’ hair. Remus swayed them back and forth like he was reading Janus’ damn mind, and he finally took a deep breath. All the stress trickled from his tense muscles bit by bit, and the younger could have cried from relief.

Janus was quickly finding it hard to keep his eyes open as Remus kept rocking them, listening to his heartbeat and following his breathing in the rare quiet of their dorm that had come to feel like home.

“Feeling better?” Remus whispered.

Janus tensed immediately. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he didn’t.

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfiction #dukeceit #prinxiety #logicality #autistic janus #autistic logan #sanders sides college au #anonymous

117 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 4 years

Note

i saw that you at least used to write for harry could u do another? like maybe im just a basic bitch but 'only one bed' trope or sm

Summary: honestly just me shitty attempt at the only one bed thing ahah with Harry Holland x reader

no warnings I don’t think apart from my ramabling :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God you were groggy. It had been a long 16 hour flight and you were well and truly completely over this day. Once you’d had some proper sleep, no doubt you will be beyond excited to explore the forest and beaches of this remote island in Indonesia. You were certain it was beautiful, even if you’d arrived in the dead of night so you couldn’t see any of the majesty yet. It was one of the joys of being Tom’s makeup artist - travelling the world and being paid for it? A literal dream.

Except maybe the previous 24 hours. The Holland name carried a lot of weight in the world, but not enough to control typhoons across the tropics - there were some limitations to his power. And yes first class lounges were nice but none had beds to crash on during the 6 hour weather delay. The four of you (Tom, Harry, Andrew and yourself) ended up camping out in a out-the-way corner. Tom got the long sofa; Andrew in one of those weird egg line chairs; you and Harry splayed on the floor. Why you’d had to get up at 4 am to catch a flight that was now not departing till 12 hours later actually hurt to think about - especially because you’d all gone out for a meal the night before that had inevitable went a lot later than planned.

Two connecting flights with a very angry baby later, the four of you were checking in to the only hotel on the island - which was now almost exclusively filled with the production team for Tom’s newest movie. It wasn’t especially big-budget with massive million pound overheads, instead a smaller scale indie film (that you privately thought might earn Tom a number of accolades). But yeh, shooting on an island that received almost no tourism meant everything was different to the usual. None more so than for Tom and his team (including you) who he normally would look after very well, with the nicest hotel rooms or rental homes.

The hotel was basic, you’d known that before you arrived but seeing is believing is it not? Most entertaining though, was seeing Tom’s face. Andrew was a well travelled older guy, he had stayed in some shitholes in his life. Equally you and Harry had both travelled when you were younger (you through inter railing and him in australia), so had stayed in hostels before. But for Hollywood star Tom Holland? The way he tilted his head to the side as if to say ‘really this place?’ did lift your spirits momentarily.

Andrew had got his key first, bidding you all good night with a grunt, then Tom - who still seemed confused as to the whole arrangements. It left you and Harry at the small dingy reception, the warm glow of an old lantern-esque light fixing illuminating the place. The guy behind the desk was a smiley local and greeted you warmly, if incorrectly.

“Ah and finally the couple I see!” He spoke with a thick accent but still very clear English which had you questioning if this was just a translational error. Harry looked at you instantly, his eyes wide which made you scoff - him joining in, shaking his unruly curly mop emphatically.

“No no we um… we aren’t together.” All the while Harry pointed between the two of you, communicating through actions rather than just the language, given that you were both the very typical Brits abroad who hadn’t learnt the language of the place they were visiting.

“Still under Holland name?” The guy asked in a perplexed manner, flicking through a book filled with cursive scribbles and scanning to see if he’d made a mistake. He checked one, then looked up nervously before checking the same page once again- you saw where this was going. ”We, we only have couples room down for you though? 3 double rooms is the booking for Holland.”

It was late, you both stunk of a combination of plane and BO, you both just wanted your individual and respective beds.

“Well can we get another room then?” Harry didn’t quite snap but there was still an impatientcy to his voice, which came out whenever he was a little agitated. Seeing the slightly worried look the mans eyes, you leaned onto the desk with a genuine smile.

“Sorry we know its last minute and its not your fault, we’ve just had a really long flight.”

“I am terribly sorry miss but we are only small hotel and Hollywood has filled us up. I have no other rooms. I am truly sorry sir, ma’am.” The guy went from looking worried to terrified as Harrys jaw tensed up, you naturally squeezed his arm to try and ground him, instantly deciding that you’d just work it out.

“No no it’s not your fault, don’t worry we’ll figure it out. Can I just get the key?”

Harry stepped back and let youtakeover proceedings, signing all the insurance documents etc and asking the man about the breakfast arrangements and such, though you saw him furiously typing on his phone and by the buzzing in your pocket- presumed he was messaging the group of you Tom, Andrew and himself.

Once finished the guy pointed you on your way, up two flights of stairs and down a hall. The whole time Harry was muttering about how useless the other two were for not replying and also for making the wrong booking in the first place. If only you hadn’t been the last two to checkin, then it would’ve been someone else’s problem.

He felt especially guilty just because you were the only girl- he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, hence why he was trying to locate his brother so they could share tonight till they got it figured out. The tension, combined with sleep deprivation, was palpable as you both walked in silence toward the room - Harry was trying to formulate a plan in his head as they did so. And honestly? You just couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. So, once you reached the door 57 holding the physical key (old school, rather than a key card) you just decided to address it.

“Will you chill please?”

“Well if my idiot broth-“

“Oh leave him be for god sake. If you’re okay with it I really don’t mind sharing with you tonight?” Not bothering to laugh at his slightly shocked expression with mouth hanging a little open, you fiddled with the key until the lock clicked open. From the entrance you had a pretty clear view of the whole room and… well, lets just say dated would be a fair expression - when compared to what you were used to? The floor was tiled and the bed was a small double, with some funky and slightly washed out prints of blue and red on the cover. The pillows looked a little limp, more like glorified pieces of cardboard than anything fluffy and comfortable. The walls were that yellowy magnolia shade that everyone in the UK had gone insane for in the 80s and there was an old school wooden wardrobe in the corner.

Home for 5 weeks.

With a shrug of your shoulders you entered, dumping your personal and work suitcases by the far wall carelessly - the higher priority action being to collapse on the bed. Doing so with an overdramatic huff, you let your eyes close but payed special attention to the delayed footsteps of Harry as he entered, then the slight creaking noise as he perched on the other side of the bed - no doubt looking at you, at least slightly fearfully.

The relationship between you and Harry was complex to say the least. Well no… it should be, not on the face of it. You had met through work and made friends. And you wished it was that simple but alas, nothing ever really is. When you’d first worked with Tom you were in the tail end of a relationship you had long since forgotten about - literally meaningless, not worth the time and effort you’d put into it. From the start you’d had a feeling Harry was more interested in you than the average co-worker (even if your job and therefore co-workers were anything but normal and average) but you were in a relationship so nothing ever came.

Then almost as if synchronised, just as you got out your relationship, Harry threw himself in the deep end with a girl he’d met through his family friends. Then the roles were somewhat reversed, you now spent a good chunk of your day just entertaining yourself with thoughts of the curly headed, slightly awkward, very-passionate-about-tea-making Holland. The cliche is so real - your always want what you cannot have.

However, a couple months ago his relationship had fizzled and faded away leaving both of you in a sort of no mans land. The sort of not wanting to ruin the friendship situation. The subject was never broached by either you - except you assumed he was being tormented in a similar way to how you were by his big brother and Andrew. Never publicly, yet whenever you found yourself alone in a room with one of them (being Tom’s makeup artist that happened often enough) there would always be a sly dig. The chemistry was so ‘obvious even a blind man could see it’. Somehow though, weeks of this and your were still stuck. Stuck in the middle.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice was gruffer and hoarser from the long journey but you could hear the self-consciousness and naivety in his tone, without having to peel your eyes open and look at his face.

“I know your not a murder and plus, we shared the airport floor this morning… this is pretty much the same.” He hummed in acknowledgement so you carried on “and plus your pint sized.” That earned you a playful shove in the side as you sniggered, before pulling yourself up so you we now sitting next to him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. His brown eyes searched deeply into yours, as if physically checking for any hint of regret or hesitation. “Don’t even dare offering to go on the floor.”

“Okay okay okay!” Holding his hands up in surrender, you both laughed, breaking the peace of the late night of the remote Indonesian island. Once an impressive yawn interrupted you though, Harry proclaimed it was time for bed and shooed you into the bathroom to get changed and sorted.

Honestly you were too tired and lazy to dig out your cleanser and skin stuff, instead opting to just splash a bit of water on your face before swapping into your pj shorts and an old tattered oversized tee. Once done you and Harry swapped, him coming out a couple minutes later in basketball shorts and a black loose fitting tee.

It wasn’t awkward so to speak, more a sort of excited-tense atmosphere, which there was no doubt Harry was mainly responsible. The boy was jittery and on edge, which to put simply, you didn’t have the energy to reciprocate.

With a quiet wish of goodnight to each other, Harry flicked off the bedside lamp and you both rolled to your respective edges of the bed, a large space of no mans land between you. In the middle. You know the first time you share a room with someone and you overthink everything? When you don’t want to move about or fidget too much in case it disturbs the other? When your listening intently to their breathing, in the hope it’ll even out and only then will you feel able to fall asleep yourself?

Well it doesn’t work when both of you are doing it. When both of you are professional over thinkers.

God knows how long it took till you gave up, favouring sleep over your worries and concerns. So you flipped over, no doubt rocking the whole bed, turning to face his back that was still huddled almost teetering off the edge of the bed. The only light within the whole room was that coming under the actually scarily large gap between the floor and the door to the hallway. It was just enough to see the back of Harry’s curls and you must’ve fallen asleep trying to trace all the torturous and windy routes of the strands.

///////////

In the morning the process of waking up didn’t come easy to you as normal for many reasons; the long day prior; the jet lag; the weird surroundings. So you stayed in this sort of blissful haze for probably longer than you should. Half aware but not really; half asleep but not quite. In the middle of sleep and alertness. Therefore it took you longer than it should have to notice the extra weight on the dip of your waist. Not anything alarming, just a presence you were absolutely not used to. It was only when you shifted a bit to lie further on your back, that enough of a stimulus from the added pressure made you actually open your eyes blearily. And sure enough, a limp hand looked to have casually and unconsciously been thrown over your side.

As if in slow motion, you traced the arm backwards - first with your eyes, but then having to twist your neck too. Only then could you fully see the browny ginger haired boy who was lowkey spooning you? It was certainly a way to fully wake you up, breath halted to a stand still in your lungs, in fear of disturbing him and having to confront what would almost certainly be an awkward situation.

There was still a safe hands width distance between the two of you except for the rogue arm. Harry’s head was placed to the edge of his pillow, mouth slightly parted as his breathing slightly tickled the wispy hairs on the back of your neck. He looked so peaceful and calm - a difference to the normal Harry who, even on a good day, took great pleasure in meticulously picking things apart and being a bit cynical. It was part of his ‘charm’; but seeing him like this was a type of vulnerability he rarely chose to show.

To be fair he was asleep, he dint realise he was exposing himself in this way.

Finding yourself a little transfixed (a bit creepy but hey) on the natural curves and definition of his face, you ever so carefully rolled over in the bed to face him. It stopped you from craning your neck and gave the sleepy boy a slight nudge, making him tense his arm a little more tightly round you.

He settled quickly though, giving you ample opportunity to just observe what was going on . Both right in front of you… and what the hell was going on in your head. Because to be honest it was an overwhelming amount of emotion thoughts for the early morning.

Somehow you must’ve eventually drifted off once again because the next thing you were aware of was a shuffling from immediately next to you. This time though, you were instantly aware of exactly the situation you found yourself in and chose to keep up the pretence of sleep - a little interested in how Harry would play it.

You heard a small gasp, having to suppress a chuckle at what you imagined Harry’s sleepy and panicked face looked like. That lasted a couple of moments, before you felt him painstakingly slowly peel his hand from your waist and if you were being 100% honest… you heart sort of sank.

What you had been expecting?- you don’t know and really there was really no reason to be disappointed. Yet, you still felt this deflated and disappointed feeling, hit your chest especially hard. Perhaps it was because of your focus on that emptyness that you forgot you were supposed to be pretending to be asleep./.

Because when he had delicately brushed the side of your face to tuck a rogue bit of hair behind your ear - your eyes flickered open. Like a rabbit caught in headlights, Harry froze, his hand still hovering over your jaw. Equally, you didn’t know what to do. Because really… do friends tuck hair behind the others ears? And do friends look at each other with this matched expression of confusion and fear?

It took a painfully long time (though in reality was probably only a matter of seconds) before the boy retracted his hand, suddenly sitting up from his reclined position down at you. Mirroring his actions, you both ended up sitting, facing the opposite wall, bodies closer than they needed to be in the double bed. Both still very much in the middle.

“I er-“

“-No no don’t… was nice of you” He had been about to apologise which you didn’t want to hear. You didn’t want to hear ‘ I didn’t mean it’ - you wanted him to mean it. In response Harry nodded jerkily, and from your peripheries, noticed he was searching your face for any sign of emotion.

“Still can’t believe this all happened… I-I didn’t disturb you too much did I?” He sounded really nervous. You were never like this with each other. So static and forced.

“No no… I slept really good actually.” Your register was quieter, waiting till you’d finished speaking before looking over at him with a self conscious smile.

“Ah I’m glad… I um-I did too.” The silence returned and the atmosphere just felt sharp. It felt like you were quite literally walking either side of a knife edge. It made you chew on your bottom lip, playing with the slightly frayed edges of the vintage quilt.

“Y/n- I look…” He’d bolted upright and voice was more raised than normal for the morning. “This is gonna sound so fucking weird, especially cos we’re literally in the same bed but... but I was thinking we could maybe go on a hike or something together?” What he seemed to be suggesting didn’t match the level of panic that was conveyed in his body language which confused you. And what the bed had to do with it… was yet to make sense in your head.

“I think Andrew said we’re getting some tour of island this afternoon so-“

“ I kinda meant just you and me.”

The penny dropped and it had you focusing all energy on processing what was happening - understandably causing Harry to only worry more with the lack of response. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined ever-“

“No I-I….I’d really like that too.”

“Oh er… well… really?” The sheer shock made you giggle, feeling the two of you sliding back into the normal dynamic.

“Normally a boy has to buy me a drink before he gets in my bed but….” A mischevious smirk that spread across your lips gave Harry the final confirmation that just maybe you were interested too, making him scoff and quietly chuckle.

It was odd; mainly because this was the two of you being incredibly vulnerable and honest with each other - something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be for fear of messing things up. And then one lazy morning, both with morning breath and slightly puffy eyes, it changed. For the first time when you looked at him, he really saw - and vice versa. You were still in the middle of something, yet it was completely different.

This time you were in the middle together figuratively as well as literally. In the middle of the bed, closer than you needed to be, but not wanting to retreat - while you both just looked shyly and bashfully at each… Eventually you lips hesitantly met in the middle.

#Harry Holland #Harry Holland fluff #Harry holland x y/n #harry holland x reader #tom holland

127 notes · View notes

whimperwoods · 3 years

Text

Not sure if this is a new series or just a thing I had to get out of my head? Pretty sure there will be at least 2 parts though. Fantasy/D&D setting. Orc caretaker. Half-elf whumpee. Human whumpers, but not for long.

tw: slavery/captivity, tw: fantasy racism (implied), tw: manhandling, tw: muzzles, tw: past abuse, tw: past rape implied (vaguely)

Chief Gozukk’s orc tribe doesn’t like humans gallivanting through their land, but one group offers a deal he can’t turn down . . . once she looks him in the eye.

*****

Chief Gozukk narrowed his eyes at the jostling, sunburned humans in the caravan whose leader was walking up to him, all too-wide smile and white teeth under a dusty wide-brimmed hat. Once he was about 6 feet away, the man whipped the hat off and bowed, sweaty hair falling in his face so that he had to flip it out of the way when he straightened up again, before he could replace his hat.

“Speak,” Gozukk ordered in Common, trying to keep his voice rough and authoritative. He hated dealing with humans. They were unpredictable, too useful sometimes to avoid outright the rest of the time. It was best to look stern and in charge.

“I apologize, Chief. We got some bad intel, said nobody was here. I’m sure you understand. We just want passage through your lands, and we’re happy to give you a cut of our profits on the way back through for the pleasure. We’re expecting a good trip. How’s 5% sound for a road tax?”

He heard Azzor breathe out through his nose from his position behind Gozukk’s chair, not loud enough for the human to hear, but loud enough to communicate his skepticism perfectly well. Gozukk twitched his hand toward the javelin leaning against the intricately-carved arm of his chair, watching the human’s face as the human watched his hand.

The smile widened instead of faltering. “Alright, I hear you! Promises of future profits are unpredictable! I understand that. We’re a little light on gold right now, but I’m sure we can come to some kind of an agreement. 6% and some gifts, and we promise to leave our campsites better than we found them.” The man winked, as though he meant to be charming.

Gozukk kept his face still and pounded a fist against the arm of his chair. “Azzor,” he ordered, still in common, turning to look over his shoulder at his oldest friend and current general, “Order the scouts to keep records of any traces these invaders have already left. I wish a full report ready should these men return.”

He turned back to the man, keeping his face stern and unmoved. “We will not accept our own land as your bargaining chip. Make a better offer.”

He could hear Azzor shifting behind him. Good. He was backing the play, choosing a more intimidating stance.

This time, the man’s smile faded. He turned to whistle to the man closest behind him. “Bring me the small chest. The one with the gems. You know which one. And whatever else you think’s tradeable. And be quick with it.”

The man nodded, wide eyed, but then tugged at his leader’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. The leader grunted, but then nodded. “One less mouth’s better. Bring her.”

The leader’s smile was wide again when he turned back to Gozukk, wide and false, and Gozukk’s hand itched to reach for his javelin, for all that he knew he shouldn’t start fights that didn’t need starting. He wasn’t a young fighter anymore, on his own. He couldn’t stand up and punch the smile, just for being smug.

Instead, he waited. The small chest came first, opened dramatically in front of him to reveal low-value gemstones of no great quality, the agates and onyx polished brightly but of no great worth, in particular. He shifted in his seat as he listened to the man’s patter, acknowledging them for what they were but spinning them as a down payment on what would surely be better coming back through the other way.

He didn’t like this man. He didn’t like his caravan, or his patter, or his smile, or the way he seemed so sure he could hoodwink a camp of orcs into letting him past. There had to be a way to refuse him passage without sparking a fight, didn’t there? Perhaps if he sent him along another specific route, or offered scouts to help the caravan navigate its way out of his territory.

But then - motion at the back of one of the middle wagons drew his eye. The man who had been sent back to the caravan had pulled a humanoid figure out of the wagon and was pulling it forward by a rope that bound its wrists and extended out into a lead.

As they drew nearer, it became clear that the figure was a woman, thin and dirty, clothed in a ragged dress and with no shoes to protect her feet from the hot sand. She hurried to keep up with the man leading her, but he seemed not to care that she was cooperating, pulling harshly at the rope in sharp tugs that almost pulled her off balance multiple times.

When they got close, the man pulled even more sharply on the rope, tugging her toward him and gripping her by the upper arm. He dragged her forward that way, until they both stood beside the leader. She had bruises around her eyes, new and dark on the left and old and yellowing on the right, and the bottom half of her face was covered with what looked like a leather muzzle.

She kept her eyes down on the ground, even as the man holding her arm nearly lifted her off her feet by it.

“Now I know she doesn’t look much better than the gems,” the leader said smoothly, “But she’s obedient, aren’t you sweetheart?” He gripped her chin and squeezed it, and the girl looked briefly up at Gozukk, her wide, terrified eyes meeting his for just a moment before they lowered back to the sand in front of her. She nodded frantically the moment the man let go of her face, and he laughed and patted her cheek. “And she’s part elf, so she’ll live a good long time. Servant for life sort of thing. Show him the ears.”

The man holding the woman’s arm lifted his other hand to pull her greasy hair back away from a pointed ear.

Gozukk stifled a growl and shifted slightly in his seat, his stomach muscles tensing as he fought to keep his composure. “Let me see her,” he said, “Closer.”

The leader gave a curt nod and the woman was dragged forward and then shoved, half thrown so that she landed hard at his feet, barely catching herself on her bound hands.

She moved quickly, pushing herself up to kneel at his feet instead, her eyes carefully trained on the rug beneath her. Gozukk could see spots of dried blood speckling the back of her thin dress, and patches of scalp where her hair had been pulled roughly. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly, frightened little panting breaths coming from her flared nostrils, too shallow to fill her belly like they should.

Azzor shifted again behind him, moving his feet just barely in the sand, getting into a fighting stance in case Gozukk called him to it.

Ten years ago, he thought, he would already have done it. But there were more than warriors here to worry about, and he had to keep his head.

“When you return the other direction, you will send a message to us,” he told the leader of the humans, “We will send a message bird with you. Once you have sent it to us, you will camp at the edge of our territory and wait for the scouting party to collect your 6% and accompany you through our land. You would be unwise to be caught here again without our permission.”

“It’s a deal,” the human leader said jovially, evidently content. His face slid into a smirk. “Enjoy her. I know we have.”

Gozukk’s stomach muscles tightened again. He could not fight this man here. Not right now. Later, away from the main camp, perhaps, if he could find a reason. But not right now. He breathed through his nose, more slowly than the woman at his feet, keeping himself calm.

The human holding the chest of gems (and, he suspected, a handful of polished rocks) set it carefully on the edge of the rug in front of Gozukk’s seat, treating it with more care than it deserved.

Then the leader whistled again, turning to his men and waving a hand in the air in a circle. “Pack it up, boys. We’re losing daylight.”

Gozukk turned and nodded to Azzor, who nodded back. Azzor barked orders in orcish, telling the scouts to prepare to accompany the humans out of their territory and the sentries to stay on guard until the scouts returned, and the watching warriors hurried into motion, too.

Gozukk needed to hold his position until the humans were gone, across the sand. He needed to stay here, looking regal, in case any of them turned back to look.

The girl at his feet was shaking visibly, still kneeling, still averting her eyes, still breathing too fast and too shallow, and he worried she might breathe so quickly she passed out.

Finally, the carts and wagons were far enough away, and he allowed himself to relax, sighing deeply and letting his head fall backward, his eyes closing as he let the sun light up his eyelids.

Then he lifted his head again and slid forward out of the chair, kneeling beside the prisoner.

She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide and terrified, and her nostrils flared again as she forced her head back down, her neck bending farther as if under a great weight.

“It’s alright,” he said in common, speaking softly this time, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “You’re safe now. Just raise your head so I can take that off.”

Azzor was still behind him. “Goz-” he started, his voice also relaxing now that there were no humans around to require a show of force.

Gozukk laughed. “Right. Can you do magic?”

The girl shook her head frantically.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

She nodded, her eyes still wide.

“Good enough for you, Az?” he asked, looking up at his friend, advisor, and general.

Azzor rolled his eyes, which was answer enough.

Gozukk reached slowly toward the woman, who trembled harder as his claws got closer. Then he unclasped the muzzle from behind her head and eased it away from her face.

She took in great, gulping breaths as soon as her mouth was freed, her body almost convulsing around them, and as her body heaved with fear, the breaths turned to sobs.

He rubbed gently at the back of her neck, ignoring the sobs, for now, as if they were still just breaths, after all.

“There,” he said, voice still gentle, “That’s better. Just breathe. You’re alright.”

She wasn’t, and he knew it.

“You’re going to be alright.”

He turned to look around at the tribe members still watching the caravan disappear into the far distance. He’d made worse deals before, but at least this time, he was confident his people would understand.

The half-elf woman sagged forward, pressing her forehead to the rug, her back still heaving with hard, frightened breaths and desperate, scattered sobs. He kept rubbing gently at the back of her neck and glanced up at the horizon, trying to decide what grounds he could look for to turn on the caravan when they returned, if they didn’t try to cheat his people on their own and make it easy for him.

#whump #d&d whump #fantasy whump #hurt/comfort #slavery whump #(for now)#ttw slavery #tw captivity #tw manhandling #tw muzzle

104 notes · View notes

mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I literally kicked this out this morning, and I am posting it now before I change my mind. Bring in the Knights… I clearly woke up this morning and chose violence.

Warnings: alcohol, poison, blood, torture, Hux and Kylo finally work together, minor character death. Not a pretty chapter at all.

Word Count: 3530

Read Chapter 12 here on AO3.

Start from Chapter 1 here.

The ride in Kylo’s Command Shuttle was quiet, just the sound of the pilots communicating, a few troopers lounged in the seats behind you and you could feel their gazes upon the back of your neck. Your brain was fried, only a few hours ago you had woken up fully dressed and alone in Kylo’s bed. He hadn’t spoken much, letting you eat breakfast in comfortable silence while he scrolled through a datapad before announcing his business was concluded here and he was withdrawing the fleet from Canto. The unasked question of whether you were coming hung in the air and you chose to ignore it, getting up and dutifully following him to the ship. You were sad to see the beautiful place fall away, maybe once the war was over you could come back. Visions of returning with your arm linked with Hux’s made you smile a little but when they flickered out of existence and were replaced with your arm in Kylo's, your composure slipped.

The shuttle alighted smoothly in the main hangar, the refiltered air filling your lungs and you already missed the freshness of being planet side. It didn’t surprise you that Mitaka was ready and waiting to bring Kylo up to date on the latest, leaving you with a single trooper to escort you to Hux’s quarters.

The ever unchanging silence curled around you, filtering into the cracks of your damaged soul and expanding. Making an ache start in your chest, one you couldn’t suppress until your soft cries pierced the quiet. You had thought long and hard over Hux’s abrupt change in behaviour, bringing you to the conclusion that he was hating himself for opening up to you. For allowing so much of himself to be exposed in one go, so now he was clamming up and pushing you away. It didn’t hurt any less but you supposed it would be like this, one step forward and two steps back. You expelled a long breath thinking it was a dance you were committed to, no matter the outcome.

You had a quick shower, putting on a nightgown and robe now you were once again governed by the day cycle of the ship. You didn’t expect to see Hux tonight so you opened a bottle from the restocked cooler, pouring the clear liquid over a couple of rocks of ice before settling on the couch and picking up the datapad to read the manuscript you were invested in but you couldn’t focus. The words blurred into one on the screen and the alcohol made everything hazy. Your heart jolted when the door opened and you heaved yourself off the couch in surprise, clutching the arm to hold you up as the room spun slightly.

“Armitage,” you mumbled in surprise. “I didn’t…I wasn’t expecting to see you….today—night?” You frowned at your own nonsense. This wasn’t how you wanted him to see you, not now, not when he possibly needed you.

“In all honesty I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” He replied. He carefully put his hat on the table, slowly followed by his gloves and then his coat which he hung on the back of the chair. You watched him approach the cooler, his slender fingers wrapping around the bottle and looking at the label.

“Did you finish work? Are you staying?” Your tongue felt thick, your body was at a fever pitch and you stumbled when you tried to head in his direction.

“Armitage…” you lifted your hand trying to focus on it but your vision blurred. “I can’t…see.”

“What?” His response was whip sharp and you winced against the sudden pounding on your head. You cried out as your legs gave way, collapsing to the floor in a heap. Your vision swam, your breaths were laboured and a tingling sensation was racing over your body. In the dark corner of your mind you realise this wasn’t just too much to drink. You heard him call your name but you were sinking, not able to hold onto him, everything was melting before you. Disappearing into a cloud of black smoke and you couldn’t find your way out.

Hux watched Ren pace up and down the small area outside your private room. Actually it was a medical room set aside for the Supreme Leader, he’d had you directed there when he saw the urgent message for a medic to Hux’s quarters. Every footfall that sounded from the large man set Hux’s teeth on edge but he bit back a rebuke. The force user hadn’t lashed out yet and Hux wasn’t going to give him an excuse. Hux also wondered why he was here, the fleet was chasing down a lead on a new possible Resistance base so surely his attention would be better elsewhere than on Hux’s wife. Both men looked up as the door opened and a Dr came out, his face was grave and Hux felt the blood freeze in his veins.

“Supreme Leader, General. She has been poisoned.” Hux had already deduced that fact and he felt a flash of annoyance that this was being repeated back to him.

“What else?” He demanded abruptly.

“I’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma so her body can recover, it seems there is some damage to her internal organs and…” he swallowed nervously as the two most dangerous men stood glaring at him. “It seems this is one poison we haven’t encountered before.”

“Just put her in a bacta tank,” snipped Hux, not understanding why they were wasting time telling him this.

“They can’t,” rumbled Kylo. Hux frowned, hating the extra insight he had.

“Why not?” He could feel his temper slipping, his teeth clenching together as he glared at the doctor wanting him to answer and not Ren.

“The poison seems to have some bacta resistant qualities….” The floor rolled under Hux and he swayed slightly, if they couldn’t find an antidote the poison would keep eating away at you until your body gave up. “I seem to have slowed the effects, by keeping her body cold and slowing the blood flow but we need an antidote within the week, she won’t be able to stay in this state for long without accruing serious deficits.” Hux wanted to double over, he wanted to accept the pain that erupted from his centre and scream at the floor, but he didn’t. He wanted to barge past the doctor and hold you in his arms, he wanted to rip through his ship and shoot his own troops in the face if they so much as looked at him wrong. It wasn’t until Kylo removed his hand from Hux’s elbow that he realised the Supreme Leader had been holding him upright.

Hux’s feet finally became unstuck from the floor and he moved into the room, his heart in his mouth as he looked at you on the bed. The chill blankets glowed a soft blue colour, a tube was down your throat helping you breathe. Sensors were placed across your forehead and he felt the rage bubble up inside him, who would poison you? Why would someone do this? He also wanted to yell at you for drinking out of a bottle that clearly wasn’t First Order approved, which meant someone planted it and they were still in the ship.

“I’ve already got the Knights tearing through the ship.” Hux resisted rolling his eyes and chose to frown instead.

“Is that wise Ren?”

“Do you want them found?” He snarled, stepping up to the other side of your bed. Hux studied the feral look in his eye, the tenseness of his posture and the hatred that flared in his expression, until his gaze slid to you. His hand rose as though to touch you but thought better of it, curling his leather covered hand into a fist. His expression softened for a moment before looking back up at Hux. “I will let you know if we find anything.”

“Shouldn’t I be there?” Hux asked, not happy to be pushed out of such an investigation of his own personnel.

“Maybe you should stay here and be with your wife,” mumurmed Kylo.

“She’s in a coma. She doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone if I’m here or not.” He couldn’t sit here staring at you, seeing how helpless and weak you were. He wouldn’t be able to sit and watch you waste away before him without doing something to try and stop this.

“Fine.” Hux moved to follow the Supreme Leader out of the room, his fingers flexing and a little ripple of anticipation ran down his spine. It had been a while since he got his hands dirty.

He couldn’t explain it, the way this trooper’s screams fed something twisted inside him. He leaned heavily against the wall of the interrogation room, sweet collected on his upper lip and he swept his damp hair off his brow in a fluid motion. Ren had shed his tunic, his corded muscles bulged, his pale skin flushed as he stretched an arm towards the man kneeling on the floor. Fresh screams erupted from the bound trooper and Hux momentarily closed his eyes as if basking in the sound.

A part of him recoiled at the unwavering way Ren ploughed through people's minds, he showed no mercy and Hux felt a stab of jealousy that Ren himself was clearly going to all this trouble for you. Hux had been told you had breakfast on a private balcony with the Supreme Leader, leaving in a hurry and then you were seen heading to his private room on Canto Bight. Hux wasn’t an idiot, but he had hoped you wouldn’t have stabbed him in the back so early on.

“Ren, stop.” Hux managed to say as the trooper’s heart rate spiked off the charts and the man fell with a clatter to the floor. “Anything?” Hux winced, his voice sounded loud against his tender ears. Kylo rolled his shoulders, sweeping his dripping hair away from his face before shaking his head once. It had been two days, two full days and night of torture, screams and questions all coming up with nothing. Hux gripped the datapad in his hands, his arms trembling as he fought the urge to throw it against the wall, screaming his hatred and frustration out. He’s always looked down his nose at Ren’s temper tantrums but now it was all he wanted to do, to break something or someone, to exercise his absolute fury out until he felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept for two days, he was already at his stimulant limit but he still considered another shot.

“You should rest.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“It wasn’t a request, General. You’re no good to her dead.” Hux contemplated ignoring the order altogether but he knew he needed a rest. He felt stretched, his breaking point was within reach and what good would he be if he was in a bed in the medbay as well? He wordlessly handed over the datapad as medics came to retrieve the trooper.

“You’ll keep going?” He asked brusquely.

“I will see you in 10 hours,” stated Kylo but Hux paused, his coat resting on his forearm.

“Five,” he countered.

“Eight,” Ren shot back.

“Six.”

“Done.” Hux nodded before leaving the room. He had six hours to pass out and then he was going to find out who did this to you.

Kylo waited until Hux had gone before slipping from the room and heading to his own quarters. Ap’lek stood outside the door in full armour, his executioner’s ax grasped in his hand as he stood guard. They didn’t exchange words, they didn’t need to. The door opened and he came face to face with Vicrul, his scythe blade resting on his shoulder ready to swing at a moment's notice. He stepped to the side to let Kylo in, revealing the scene in his quarters. There was a dark haired man kneeling on the floor surrounded by the rest of the Knights, Cardo had his arm cannon pressed into the back of his neck, Ushar had the kinetic charged end of his club in position ready to stun the man if necessary and Trudgen sat before the prisoner running a whetstone along the blade of his vibrocleaver. The sound rang out loud and clear in the silent quarters as he swept the stone with long strikes against the massive blade. Kuruk appeared from the bedroom, performing his checks and making sure the quarters were secure.

Kylo made his way to crouch before the shaking man, slowly running his eyes over the First Order uniform and seeing it was ill fitting.

Has he said anything? Kylo looked up at Trudgeon, the only Knight without his mask on.

No. Came the swift reply followed by another singing note from the blade.

“You won’t get anything out of me.” Kylo turned his attention back to the prisoner.

“We just did,” he stated softly. The prisoner looked up and Kylo could see the man had already surrendered to the idea that he was going to die here.

“The Resistance is not dead. Our spark shines bright in the Galaxy.” Kylo looked at him, just staring as he tried to decide how he was going to play this.

“Vicrul.” The Knight stepped forward and Trudgeon moved out of the way, tossing his chair away with a loud noise. Kylo rose and Vicrul took his place before the prisoner, removing his pastillion ore helmet and placing it carefully on the floor before locking gazes with the prisoner.

Sweat began to bead on the man’s brow, his face quivering the longer Vicrul looked into his eyes. Kylo could feel it, the ripples in the force that his Knight created, the darkness manifested and clung the Resistance fighter, gathering around his head. The other Knights all watched, their own vibrations reacting to their brothers and only the prisoners laboured breathing sounded in the room. It didn’t take long before a scream ripped the air and he began to thrash in the Knights grip, lost in nightmarish visions that only he could see. Kylo let Vicrul have his fun, showing the prisoner visions that would make a Wookiee cower, his screams increasing in pitch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to convulse in the firm grips of Cardo and Ushar.

“Enough,” said Kylo softly. Vicrul broke eye contact and picked up his helmet, the darkness retreated and the prisoner blinked rapidly as though the light was too much for him, his entire body heaved and he looked wildly around.

“What are you going to do to me?” He cried, his voice full of panic.

“It depends what you tell us,” Kylo gestured to the armoured men around him. “My Knights are bored so I suggest you cooperate.”

“Wait wait! Can’t you just search my mind? Take the information for yourself?” Kylo turned away as the Knights shuffled forward, closing ranks around the prisoner.

“Where is the fun in that Major Wexley?” The man was screaming before Kylo had even made it past his door, Kuruk followed and silently traded places with an eager Ap’lek. “Let me know if he says anything. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Kuruk nodded and silently watched his master walk away. They knew where he was going.

Kylo sat at your bedside, his large hand covered yours and echoes of what was happening in his quarters shattered the quiet of his mind. He could feel the force pulsing with the darkside, spreading its touch through the ship. It manifested in different ways, someone pulling a risky move in the training ground and hitting their opponent harder than necessary, an officer shouting at his staff for a simple misdemeanour that should have been dismissed. A fight breaking out in the cantina between two troopers who didn’t like each other, a moment of blind frustration from a medic who threw what he was holding, letting it shatter against the wall.

The Knights had found Wexley trying to slip into a TIE and escape, Kylo hadn’t told Hux. The General was on a cliff edge as it was, Kylo didn’t need him on a murdering spree before all information was dragged from the Resistance pilot, so Kylo let his Knights have a reward. Their energy was chaotic when unused, it needed a release every now and again.

He moved his hand along your cold arm, hating how lifeless you looked, you were still alive. He could feel your light but the warmth was weak and fading. Kylo hoped this pilot had some answers because he didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t find the antidote in time. He cast a quick eye over the machines noting how your numbers remained steady even though you ebbed ever so slowly away.

He still won’t talk. Kylo sighed, feeling the disappointment in Vicrul’s thoughts.

I’m on my way. He stood, bending over you and peering at your still face for a moment before sweeping abruptly from the room.

The first thing he could feel was the pilot's pain, it radiated out in all directions and Kylo clenched his fists against it. The next thing he noticed was the smell, blood, sharp and tangy against his nose. The floor was slick with the red stains, blood spatter littered the walls in spectacular patterns and Kylo came to a stop looking down at the pitiful man as he bled out onto the floor, his skin was pale, drained of colour because it now painted Kylo’s quarters. He crouched down beside Wexley who was laying on his side, the First Order uniform ripped and tattered, ruined beyond repair much like Wexley himself.

“Are you going to talk?” Asked Kylo softly.

“No.” He admired the man's tenacity, but his time was up. The screams that spewed from him had a hoarse quality, like his throat was too tired, his lungs had no air but Kylo didn’t care as he raced through the man's memories. He had planted the bottle, but it wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for General Hux. The antidote was a plant out in the Teth system. One of the few wild systems left in the Galaxy and travelling there and back again in the time frame left would be a risk, but it was one Kylo was ready to take. He withdrew from the dying Major, his memories growing dark as his body gave up.

“Ready the Night Buzzard,” he demanded. Kylo stood, hearing the last breath from Wexley before moving, his Knights following obediently behind as he began to make his way to the hangar.

Hux woke to the sound of his alarm, swiping it off the screen of the datapad feeling unusually refreshed. He had slept in his uniform so he could get up and find Ren straight away. He walked through the corridors of the Finalizer pleased to see his staff avoiding his gaze as he marched along, this investigation was reminding everyone who was actually in charge here and bringing out Hux’s ruthless side for everyone to see served as another reminder that he wasn’t to be messed with.

He stepped into the interrogation room, taking in the emptiness before turning smartly and heading to the bridge. His lips bruised together in irritation, if Ren had found something and left Hux out he was going to explode. As soon as he entered the bridge Mitaka was at his side.

“Sir, the Supreme Leader gave strict instructions not to wake you.”

“What’s happened?” Snapped Hux.

“The Supreme Leader and the Knights have left for the Teth system.” Mitaka told him.

“Left? What do you mean left?”

“They have gone to retrieve the plant needed for the antidote for….for…..” For you. Hux didn’t have time to pander to his Lieutenant and his sad emotions right now. He tutted, since when did you become such a beloved member to certain people who weren’t him? “He also said to tell you there is a mess in his quarters, but he wanted you to see it before it was cleared up.” Hux left without a word, what an earth could Ren want him to see?

Whatever Hux had imagined on the way to the Supreme Leaders quarters did not prepare him for the sight that met his eyes. Did he really need to see this? Hux was no stranger to torture and death, blood didn’t bother him, violence was his way of life but seeing this gruesome scene did indeed turn his stomach slightly. He also recognised the Knights' handy work.

“Do we know who this is?” He asked a Major who looked rather grey coloured.

“Apparently this is…was Temmin Wexley, Resistance pilot and the person who planted the bottle in your quarters, sir.”

“Clear up this disgusting mess. It has lingered on my ship long enough.” He snapped, displeasure and disgust making his expression contort. He left, stepping the familiar path to the medbay realising now all he had to do was wait. And he hated waiting.

28 notes · View notes

slutsofren · 4 years

Text

surrender the night

*this is a companion piece to my series, Danger Days, but can be read as a standalone

summary: you and joel have been together for a while, no longer worrying about fireflies or about ellie, the three of you became pretty close-knit out on the road and now in jackson but joel is usually closed off with you today until he wants to show you how much he loves you while hunkering down from the rain.

cw: no y/n, intimate/soft smut, mild bratty reader, slight angst, light humor/teasing, established relationship and life in jackson, joel being emotional AND vulnerable, SARAH MENTION that needs a whole TW i swear

word count: 3,884

a/n: congrats to pedro on this role and welcome new fans to tlou!! <spoilers> tlou2 isnt entirely canon in my version bc our man survives abby and her bullshit so we can all be happy here; but check out my series following the first tlou game with slow burn and other fun tropes here on ao3!

read on ao3 here!

Bandit attacks were on the rise again, always spiking before winter starts and at the tail end of it. You had been pulling nearly nonstop shifts at the wall and scouting nearby. Joel noticed how tired you were getting and tried to convince Tommy and Maria to give you less time on rotation. You thanked him heavily for it but if there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping those you loved safe.

The rifle was heavy in your hands, your thighs warmed by your signature dual handguns there, you were armed to the brim but it did nothing considering the visibility was poor. It was raining on and off since the two of you began your shift but as you neared the small town, it had gotten heavier as you got closer to the last stop on the scouting trail.

Beside you, Joel had been quiet nearly the entire time since the two of you left Jackson and each time you tried to ask him if he was okay, he shrugged you off. It wasn’t unusual for the man, he was a rather private person despite the many many months the two of you had been together.

The one thing that warned you something was wrong was a conversation the two of you had only last night. For the first time ever, Joel spoke of a memory between him and Sarah, the daughter he lost over twenty years ago, of how she would banter with him and keep him on his toes. He smiled while telling you a couple stories of her but fell into a tense silence afterwards that seeped well into today and you figure his silence has to do with it.

Your horses came to a stop in the garage of the safehouse as the two of you jumped down. “I’ll shut it,” you offered quietly as you lowered the garage door to keep the horses safe and warm away from the harsh chill of the winds and rain. Joel gave a grunt of confirmation and he opened the inside door to enter the house, shaking his head a bit to rid his hair of some of the dampness.

As the garage door shuttered gently to the ground, you turned to follow Joel up to the third floor of the safehouse and gave a firm pat against your horse as you walked by. Joel had already begun turning on the small lamps that were sparsely laid around the stairwell to make sure you didn’t trip. This was one of the few three story homes that were still viable despite how broken everything was inside. The walls still had some insulation but the dust and debris were stark reminders of everything that had been lost since the cordyceps virus took the world by storm.

When you reached the landing, your stomach was in knots, Joel’s behavior wasn’t unusual per say but he was rarely like this with you on scout missions, often being more in the moment with you than his usual reserved self. Being outside of Jackson, the two of you had to communicate in order to stay alive, everybody did. It was the only means to survival but his behavior was beginning to worry you more and more.

You removed the rifle from your shoulder then leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom, watching as Joel signed in both your names on the sheet on the desk that had been pulled in the room. He sighed heavily and turned to face you, “I don’t think we’ll make it back to Jackson anytime soon with the rain.”

“You’re probably right.” You pushed off from the doorframe and shrugged off your backpack, reaching for the long-range radio. You shifted it in your hands before clicking it on.

“Base, this is Athena’s Mark, please be advised we are hunkering down at the last checkpoint. Rain is too heavy to travel. Over.”

After a couple moments passed, you heard the tell-tale sign of a response with static then a click before Maria’s voice rang out. “Athena’s Mark, your message has been received. Notify Base if there’s any sightings out there. Stay safe you two, over and out.”

You looked up from the radio in your hands and saw Joel leaning against the desk with his arms wrapped in front of his chest. He looked at you and you gave him a soft smile before fully entering the room and setting your weapons and backpack down beside the large bed that was still in rather good condition all these years later and sitting on it.

“Y’know you never told me why your code name was Athena’s Mark,” he asked from behind you, watching as you began to unlace your boots.

You smiled as you recalled the memories. “When I was still running with the Fireflies I would sneak over to the Humanities department and steal some of the abandoned books from the offices. One of the rooms belonged to a Greek historian and I found their book on mythology,” you explained without looking up. “By the time I arrived in Jackson, I still had a few of those books in my possession. One day Maria and I got drunk and she called me Athena as a joke but the name stuck with me on missions.”

You laid the unlaced boots on the floor and laid down in the bed, listening to the rain patter against the roof and windows, drowning out all the outside noise. “She said I looked like a goddess of war when I had blood on me, fighting to protect Jackson.” You threw a hand behind your head and stared at the ceiling before continuing. “If the world hadn’t gone to shit, I’d like to think that’s what I would have done with my life. Become a historian or something.”

“I think I would have liked to see you like that,” Joel said in his gruff voice. You smiled at his words.

“What would you have done?”

“I was a carpenter, and even wanted to start my own business. Work was shit to come by but it paid the bills.”

You smiled, remembering all of his wood carvings in the spare bedroom of his house. “If bills weren’t an issue back then, what would you have wanted to do,” you prompted instead.

“I wanted to be a singer but with Sarah and all,” he trails off. You remembered him admitting this once, forever ago but now the candor feels different because he said her name.

Sarah.

You sit up from the bed and look at him, the broad strong man he is, looks like he’s a million miles away. His eyes are unfocused and his face looks conflicted. You get up and take tentative steps towards your boyfriend. “Joel?”

He looks up at you and unfurls his arms from his chest, instead opening them up at you. You walk to him a bit more confidently and walk straight into his embrace as he wraps his arms around your frame. He buries his face into the crook of your neck while you encompass him and rest one of your hands on the nape of his neck, your fingers gently dancing in his dark hair.

“I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you closer into him. “I think she would have liked you.”

You try to pull back a little to look into his eyes but his grip only tightens around you, refusing to let you budge. “I think I would have liked her too, Joel.”

For a man of few words, the ones he spoke have taken your heart by storm. The two of you have been together for a while but the intimacy between you has rarely been like this.

He stays like this for a few more minutes, composing himself. You play with his hair with one hand and the other draws random circles across his back. Silently telling him you’re there for him. After these moments pass, Joel pulls his head back from the crook of your neck to start leaving a trail of kisses there, his beard leaves a scratchy but familiar burn across your skin.

Without using words, he’s telling you how much he loves you, how much he cares, how much it pains him when you’re not together, and you bask in it. “Joel,” you whine as his kisses suddenly shift to small sucks and bites on the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Come here,” he demands slowly, finally bringing his lips to yours.

As the two of you kiss, he tangles his fingers in your hair, his other hand kneading the flesh on your ass. Joel has you melting in his hands as your worries fade. You figure today was rough on him and you’re more than happy running away from the anxiety.

The two of you do this dance with each other's lips until he pushes off the desk, advancing to his full height towering over you. He doesn’t let you break the kiss instead he presses harder into you deepening it.

The more he wordlessly asks, the more you feel like you’re drowning in him, his scent, his touch.

Joel places both of his hands on your hips as he pushes you backwards, walking you to the bed. The backs of your knees hit it and you stumble a little but his sturdy warm hands keep you from falling down. He breaks the deep kiss the two of you were sharing, both just slightly out of breath but heavily disheveled. A shuddering intake of breath and he leans his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. “Will you have me?”

“Yes,” you sigh against him. “Please.”

Just as you slightly beg, any worried thoughts you had were whisked away as he removed your denim jacket from your body. His large calloused hands worked their way back up to your head, his fingers getting tangled in your hair, gently pulling you back so your neck was exposed.

He gently laid kisses up and down your jaw, taking sweet time and care with you.

Your hands drifted up his torso, unbuttoning his soaked red and black flannel. Once the last button popped, you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest, pushing both his flannel and brown coat off him.

A deep groan rises from Joel’s throat, “Easy now.”

He takes a step back and fingers at the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body. You rush a little and put your hands behind your back, undoing your bra. Joel watches you silently as you discard the article to the side of the bed where your shirt lay on the floor with his.

His hands return to your body, working themselves at your jeans and he pulls them down, gently easing your leg out of each pant leg. He’s being so gentle with you, being so vulnerable and soft.

You stand in front of him as he remains kneeling in front of you, still in the position he was when he removed your jeans. He leans forward and rests his head on your stomach and you feel his breath over your panties.

“May I,” he asks, fiddling with the elastic waistband.

Your fingers catch in his hair as he pulls back, looking you in the eye when you grant him permission, “Yes.”

His eyes study you as he tentatively pulls your panties down, letting them fall. He comes back against your skin, kissing from the tops of your thighs and makes his way upwards across your stomach, between the valley of your breast, your chest, and neck, before finally coming back and kissing you on the lips.

“Get on the bed for me, will you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, lost in this tender moment with your lover.

Naked and kneeling on the bed, Joel fixes his stare on you, taking his time to unbutton his belt then jeans. His eyes trail over your body, watching as you begin to squirm under his watch.

He pushes forward and kneels on the bed before maneuvering himself to lean back against the headrest. He grabs your leg to swing over his thighs to make you straddle him but his hands stay at your waist, keeping you from fully sitting on his clothed cock by giving attention to your breasts, licking and biting gently as he did with your neck not moments before.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A giggle leaves you at his words aligned with feeling overstimulated by the way his mouth and beard felt on your skin. “Joel, please.”

“Settle down, you heathen,” he says between nips and kisses. You feel him smile across your skin as he pulls you down onto the sheets, coming back to your lips to kiss you more and more. His hands encompass your body, roaming up and down the valleys on your skin, completely enamored with you.

“Make me,” you tease against his lips.

Joel takes this as a challenge and he sits up, leaving you prone against the pillows. He towers over you, his thick fingers dancing gently across your skin, making a winding trail down your body. “Please,” you begged softly.

Joel said nothing as he sank two of his rough fingers into you and laid down between your thighs to suck and lick at your clit. Your hands flew to his shaggy black hair, taking a sharp inhale at the sensations. Joel eats you out nervously, taking pride in the way you moan to the walls of the empty house. Your sharp intakes of breath get lost under the patter of rain against the roof and windows.

“I love you,” he says against your heat. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Your breath is already stolen away at the way he fucks you with his mouth and fingers but you’re breathless by the way he admits his love for you. The vulnerability of it makes you come against his tongue.

“That’s my girl, that’s it.”

His approval and praise send you soaring but he doesn’t slow down his efforts, instead going faster. Before you could even come down from the blissful high of an orgasm, another tidal wave is rising again. “Joel, I’m coming again,” you whine.

“Come as many times as you want,”

He leaves another trail of kisses across your stomach as he makes his way back to kiss you on your lips. You can feel your wetness on him, taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into him.

“Lay down, let me treat you,” you say in a low voice as you try to push Joel against the bed. He leans up and puts his hands on your wrists, stopping you.

“No, tonight is about you.”

“Wha-,” he cuts you off with another opened mouth kiss on your lips, he keeps kissing you down your neck to your left arm, not stopping until he’s kissing your hand.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are,” he whispers against your palm. “The first time I saw you, I fell for you. You had your gun pointed right at me, coulda killed me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

He huffs, hot breath hitting your hand. “I sure as hell am too.”

He drops your hand and shifts on the bed, removing the last piece of cloth covering his erect cock, “I think I woulda let you toss my ass around that first day I laid eyes on you, if I’d known then what I know now.”

“You almost didn’t let me go with you, remember,” you tease.

“Would’ve been the biggest regret of my damn life, sweetheart.” He drops his boxers to the floor, not taking his eyes off you.

“Tell me again, Joel.”

He line’s himself up with you, “I’m glad I found you.” He gently thrusts only the head of his cock into you and pulls out. “I’m glad you never put up with my bullshit.” He repeats his movements but pushes a little more into your wet cunt. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Finally he pushes himself all the way in, eliciting a sharp whine from you. “Fuck, I’m so lucky.”

Your lover pushes back your thighs, allowing him to fuck you deeply. His movements stir that insatiable beast inside you, constantly lingering for more and more pleasure.

He sinks harder and faster into you as his warm hands grasp your hips, his eyes trained on the way your soaked pusst takes him so deeply. He’s locked on the sight of the way the two of you are connected just as how you are mesmerized by watching him.

“Do you feel as good as I do, darlin’?”

You respond by squeezing around his cock, “You feel so good in me.”

It was like he got a second wind by the way he fucks you even harder than before. You throw your head back as you feel the familiar rumble in your abdomen and you squeeze your legs around him, not allowing him to pull out further. Joel surprises you by using two fingers to rub tight circles against your clit.

You bite down on your lip to try and contain the coming moan but fail. He feels too good in you, on top of you. His scent invades your mind bringing you to the ultimate climax. Your head is tossed back and a throaty loud moan is released into the air by you.

“Joeljoeljoel,” you plead, coming again against him, your legs spread so far to allow him to penetrate you deeper. Your orgasm rolls through you like waves and your body lifts in response, searching for more, more, more.

He continues to pound harshly into you, not swaying in pace. “You’re so beautiful when you come around me, feels heavenly too,” he moans above you. The hand he had tangled in your hair moves to your jaw, his thumb caressing your bottom lip as you sigh, coming down from your high.

Joel’s thrusts soon turn erratic and sloppy as he chases his own high, you hear a deep growl rise from his throat. “Fuck, shit,” he breathes, pulling out of you swiftly, pouring himself over your stomach.

You reach up and thread your fingers in his hair, pulling him up for a kiss. You praise, “Good boy.”

Vulnerable, Joel laughs and sits up on his knees to look down at you. Basking in your afterglow with remnants of his love smeared across the expanse of your stomach that reflected in the soft glow from the lamps and setting sun. He fingers his own hair with both hands, sweeping his messy locks back.

He gives you an indecipherable look that he hides by shifting off the bed and rummaging through his backpack insearch of a rag to clean you with. He returns and does his usual routine while you lie on the bed, feeling warm and safe.

He returns to the bed and you crawl on top of him, seeking to add his warmth to yours to fight away the rainy chill. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close. Refusing to let you move away.

Together, the both of you came down from your blissful highs, your breaths synchronizing into calm and slow inhales and exhales. You laid your head on his shoulder, dancing your fingers along his chest drawing nonsensical designs. The two of you laid like that for a while, you listened as his headbeat fluctuated from steady to rapid and back as if he was working himself up. Just before you open your mouth to ask if he was alright, he took a sharp inhale.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts.

“Oh, no. Nothing good comes from you thinking,” you laugh, hoping to ease his mind.

Joel squeezes your hip and pulls you closer, “Hey now, none of that shit.” You laugh a little more at teasing him before he takes another sharp inhale as he continues. “As I was sayin’, I know this isn’t conventional, hell, none of this is conventional,” he gestures wildly in the air, “but I was wonderin’ if you’d do me some kind of honor and make me your husband.”

This knocks the breath out of you, more than the wonderful dick down he just gave you. You lean up and face him, trying to make eye contact but his stubbornness doesn’t let him take his gaze off of the ceiling.

“Joel, are you serious,” you ask.

He furrows his brow before letting go of your body and getting up from the bed. You’re about to start protesting when you see him reach for his own backpack and pull out a wooden box before he sits back on the bed and stares at it hard.

“Y’know I was married before. Back then. I never wanted to do it again, especially not in this world. But then I met you. That shit don’t compare to how much I love your ass. You’re smart, you keep this old man in check, and most of all,” he looks at you, “we don’t get to take life for granted any more. Not when every time we leave Jackson could mean we don’t make it back alive. I want to marry you in every meaningful way, even if you are a goddamn brat.”

As he says this, your eyes fill with tears and you sit up on the bed, facing him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He nods once, “What? You make me fuckin’ nervous.”

You smile wide and lay your hands on his, over the box. “I love you, Joel Miller, you stubborn old bastard. Now gimme the damn ring”

Joel lets out a sharp laugh at your words and lets a smile hang on his lips. He opens the box and hands it to you where you see a beautiful silver ring with a delicate floral design. A gasp leaves you as you take it in, how intricate and ornate it looks.

“Talked to the blacksmith and got it made for you especially,” he explains.

You take the ring from the box to admire it closer before Joel takes it from you and places it on your ring finger. “You had Gustavo make this for me?”

“I told him your favorite flowers and he did the rest.”

You’re too stunned to speak by his admission. He knew of your love and attachments to the old blacksmith which made this ring that much more beautiful in your eyes. You pull the elegant ring out of the box, treating it like it’s fragile before placing it on your finger.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you since you saved my damn life,” he admits. “But it wasn’t until last night when I told you about Sarah without feeling angry or sad when I knew it was time.”

His confession wells tears in your eyes again, his long since passed daughter was always a subject the two of you danced around, even his ex-wife. Him talking about this, about Sarah, it means he’s nearly ready to open up and it means the world to you.

“Does this mean I finally get to teach Ellie how to throw knives now?”

“Absolutely not, what the fuck?”

#joel (the last of us)#joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #the last of us x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller / reader #joel tlou #joel tlou x reader insert #asher's writing #surrender the night #danger days fic

141 notes · View notes

blingywitch · 3 years

Text

Good Feelings - Chapter II

Hey! Here’s chapter two! This fic is going to go in a bit of a weird direction for a while I think— starting in the next couple chapters— but I promise it’ll all align eventually! (Even if it doesn’t seem that way) See, the problem is... I’m having a little trouble figuring out how things will work with it—plot wise—hence why this took some time to get out. It’s out now and that’s all that matters :) But just note that if the chapters are taking longer to get out than usual it’s probably because I’m stuck and can’t write anything but they will get out... eventually. I promise <3

Umm... all I have left to say is Logan Tremblay is a sucker for pretty eyes... as am I.

Full Masterlist & Good Feelings Masterlist

Characters belong to the lovely, @lumosinlove

CW: mentions of food and drink

The sun was barely out when Logan woke up that morning. He could already tell it was going to be a nice day though, there was no clouds in sight and the only reminiscence of the rain that had passed through Gryffindor earlier in the week was the damp grass and small puddles that were scattered around the pavement.

Logan liked the rain, it reminded him of home; And yes, rain was still as common in Gryffindor than it was in Quebec but it just wasn’t the same. No matter where he was in the world nothing would be the same as his home. He missed it.

Logan and his three sisters had moved down to Gryffindor about a month ago. They wanted to expand their families business—Tremblay’s— that had been solely in Rimouski, Quebec until now; and Gryffindor seemed like the perfect place to start. So they packed their bags, said goodbye to their parents—who were staying in Rimouski to mange things there— and they were off.

It was hard at first; Being in such an unfamiliar place. Being without anything that was normal to them. But the Tremblay siblings had each other and that was familiar. They worked together, getting used to the new things and eventually it got to a point where Gryffindor was starting to feel like home to them— a second home.

Moving in together helped. Again, it was comforting to have someone around 24/7 that they knew in a city that was filled with strangers. Logan and Noelle had bought a small apartment together while Audrey and Sydney got places of their own on the other side of town. Being the youngest siblings Noelle and Logan didn’t think they were quite ready to be on their own anyways.

And that’s how Logan got here; closing the door to his Uber and telling the driver where to go. Off to his first official day working at Tremblay’s. Aka opening day.

When the car exited the parking lot Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He hauled it out to see who it was.

New message from: Noelle

Hey, are you almost here? Please tell me you’re almost here.

I just got into the Uber. What’s the rush?

Aubrey is flipping out; Running around the place and talking to herself. Saying something is going to go ‘terribly wrong’. She checked if the open sign was working 3 times already. Syd and I can’t handle this much longer. SOS.

Logan chuckled softly.

Tell Aubrey that it’s going to be fine and that nothing is going to go ‘terribly wrong’. I’ll be there soon.

And if you want me there so bad why didn’t you wake me up when you left this morning?!

I didn’t wake you up this morning because before you went to bed last night you were grumbling about not being awoken before 6 or you’ll be all moody.

I can’t deal with moody Logan in the morning. Especially not this one.

Ok that’s reasonable. See you soon!

Byee.

—

“Logan!” He heard his name being shouted at him by one of his sisters as he entered the coffee shop— Sydney, he realized it was when he looked up. “Vous êtes ici!” She exclaimed.

“Logan!?” He heard again, accompanied by a clash that sounded like a pan hitting the floor. The next moment Audrey appeared; looking slightly frantic.

“Oh thank gods.” Audrey breathed. “You’re here.”

“Finally.” Noelle said playfully; joining in from where she was straightening mugs on a shelf.

Her brother narrowed his eyes at her. Only for her to shoot Logan back a smile that said, you know you love me.

“D’accord d’accord,” Audrey interrupted her siblings moment. “Enough playing around. We have work to do.” She walked over to the back and grabbed a classic blue Tremblay’s apron off of the rack that was there. She tossed it at Logan, the fabric draping over his head, “Put this on. This place opens in twenty.”

Logan lifted the apron off his head, “Yes, captain. I’ll get right to work.”

Audrey ignored her brother’s attempt at trying to loosen the tense atmosphere that was looming over her and went back to what she was doing.

“Oh, and Audrey?!” Logan called after her.

Audrey turned around, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Everything is going to be fine. Nothing crazy or terribly bad is going to happen; I promise.” Logan had a serious look in his eyes.

Audrey smiled softly at him. Logan sure as hell didn’t know how to deal with his emotions but he always knew how to comfort others; especially his sisters.

Walking over to turn on the record player Logan quietly repeated his words to himself so no one would hear, “Everything is going to be fine. Nothing crazy or terribly bad is going to happen; I promise.”

If only Logan knew.

—

Noelle was cleaning off one of the front counters when she heard them walk in; laughing and joking with each other. Holding hands and going to sit down at a table in the corner. She watched as the taller one pulled out a chair for the other and then start a small conversation.

They hadn’t Looked her way, so she was able to sneak away to the back without them noticing while the pair got settled and decided what they wanted. Plus, Logan said he wanted to serve people today.

So she picked up her wash cloth and made her way back into the kitchen where her siblings were. She looked at her brother, “Logan, a couple of people just walked in. You got it?”

“Y-yeah.” Logan almost looked nervous at learning the information. “Ouais.”

Noelle nodded. “Okay. Just give them a couple more minutes to get settled.”

Logan knew he was nervous about today. Would he ever admit that to his sisters? Fuck no. But he never would have guessed that when the time came for the actual work to happen he would be this nervous.

Noelle said there were people here. What if those people hated it here? What if they didn’t like any of the food? Or what if he messed up and got an order wrong? What if he trips over his own feet walking over to them and embarrasses himself— knowing himself though, and how clumsy he could be that is something Logan would do.

“Logan?” Sydney’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts that were quickly getting the best of him. “You okay?” She asked “You look a little sick there.”

Trying to regain himself, Logan took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Okay.” She sounded unsure with his response but didn’t push it anymore. “Noelle said they should be ready now.”

“Right....” Logan nodded, bringing his hand up to take off his hat before he realized what he was doing and quickly brought it back down.

So, clearing his throat and patting his apron pocket to make sure he had his pen and note pad he set off to take their order. Exiting the kitchen, turning the corner, looking around and—

The odds really weren’t in his favour today were they?

His first thought was, pretty. His second, get it together Tremblay. But that was easier said then done when the two boys that were sat at the table looked like they did. He was still a good ten feet away from them but from what he could see Logan didn’t think he’d ever seen two boys they were so— pretty, as he described them. It was the only clear word in his head right now so it would have to do.

It was then Logan realized he was just standing there, staring at these pretty boys— thank gods they hadn’t noticed him yet— and he had a job to do. So, for what felt like the hundred time that day he took a deep breath and composed himself and mustering up all the courage he had, walked over.

As he got closer he noticed that the boys looked to be in deep conversation, pointing at the menu and nodding along with whatever the other said and Logan almost felt bad for having to break it up. He didn’t want to break it up. He had only laid eyes on the two for a maximum of thirty seconds but he felt content to watch them talk to each other for hours. Something about the way they communicated drew him in, the way they weren’t using many words—from what Logan could hear anyways— but seemed to know exactly what the person across from them meant. It took two people knowing each other well to be able to do that. Logan wanted to know these people well.

He had reached their table. Here goes nothing. “Bonjour, welcome to Tremblay’s,” he greeted. “I’m Logan. What can I get for you two?”

The boys looked up at his voice and Logan felt like he got punched in the stomach. If he thought they were pretty before then this was godly.

Eyes he thought. A deep shade of brown that looked like pools of melted chocolate. In the early morning sunlight Logan could see that they had lighter spots making chocolate and honey swirl into each other in a perfect circle around his pupils. Logan could stare forever. His Auburn hair that appeared as fire itself looked incredibly soft, with the sides shaved and the waves on top flopping to one side. It took Logan everything he had in him to keep his jaw off the floor.

He looked away from the redhead and met the others eyes. Mon dieu was Logan a sucker for eyes. Orbs of cornflower blue stared into his green. They looked curious, observing, almost like they held an expression of their own, like they were doing the thinking instead of his brain. Though Logan couldn’t guess what the boy was thinking if he tried. His face was Guarded; Not in a way that said he didn’t want you to know what he was thinking but in a way that said you just needed to earn it. And Logan couldn’t comprehend why he so badly wanted to. His hair curled around his ears and came down slightly over his forehead where a tuft of white could be seen amongst blonde curls. He was gorgeous. And just before Logan snapped out of his trance he saw the boy’s eyes roam over him; he really had trouble keeping his face straight at that.

The blonde suddenly cleared his throat. “Oh, um... sorry. Finn?”

The other boy— Who Logan now knew as Finn— looked at his friend. Those beautiful eyes of his going wide for a second before looking down at the table. “Right, uhh, I’ll have....”

Logan nodded along with their orders. It was nothing complicated— thankfully. He didn’t think he could handle complicated right now. “Alright, sounds good. I’ll be back with that, you guys sit tight.” He smiled politely at them and started making his way back to the kitchen. Careful not to match his pace with his rapidly beating heart.

As soon as he was out of sight from the boys and back in the kitchen he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and just sat there for a moment; leaning against the wall and calming himself down. Why today? His first day. At least give him a couple days before the really hot guy—or in this case, guys— walked into the coffee shop.

“You okay?” Noelle noticed him first and he was asked that question for the millionth time that day.

Logan opened his eyes and looked at his sister. “You could have told me they were hot!” he whispered yelled.

Noelle just laughed loudly, accompanied by chuckles from his other sisters. They knew that Logan was bisexual; There was an incident when he was in high school where Logan was crushing so hard on a boy that he had to tell somebody and he chose his sisters. It had been a good choice; Unsurprisingly, they were greatly accepting. Sydney even telling him she wasn’t exactly straight herself either. And maybe things didn’t work out between Logan and the boy but he now had amazing sisters that loved him no matter who he loved and that made him more than happy.

“Sorry,” Noelle managed to get out when her laughter died down. “It didn’t cross my mind if I’m being honest.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at her but left it alone. He turned to Sydney, “Syd, I need a breakfast sandwich, hold the tomato— Oh! and a croissant instead of a bagel please!”

“I’m on it, petit fère.” She smiled.

“Excuse me.” He said to Noelle, still playfully narrowing his eyes at her. “I have coffee to go make.”

Noelle smirked and moved out of the way, as Logan walked away she called after him, “I’ll put your number on their check later!”

Logan rolled his eyes, though he was trying to suppress a smile.

—

Deep breaths Logan. Deep breaths.

“Okay, so, we have the breakfast sandwich and the black coffee for you.” Who drinks black coffee? Ew. Logan thought, placing Finn’s order in front of him. “And just the medium two sugar two cream for you.” He handed the blonde his coffee. Did he ever want to know his name.

“Thanks.” He said, looking right into Logan’s eyes.

“No problem!” Logan managed to get out. But not before a pink tint washed over his cheeks.

Logan abruptly looked away. In a failed attempt to hide his blush he smiled politely at Finn and he got one in return, though the redhead looked a bit confused. And that was all Logan could stand before he turned around and walked away, not being able to resist bringing his hand up to remove his hat and run his fingers through his hair.

How was it still only 9 am? Logan didn’t know. But let’s just say he continued his work day with two beautiful faces never leaving his mind.

Auburn and brown, blonde and blue.

#lumosinlove #leo knut #o'knutzy #coast to coast lumosinlove #finn o'hara #sweater weather lumosinlove #logan tremblay #coffee shop au

44 notes · View notes

equalstrashflavoredtrash · 4 years

Text

A Trip to the Market

WELP I JUST WENT AND WROTE A FIC FOR @cptnbvcks NOW SHE’S GOTTA FORGIVE ME FOR TALKING ABT FUCKING JAR JAR BINKS

This fic is really indulgent. Cus what this fandom totally needs is another fic abt groping in a cantina and then fuckin in alley. Anyway I hope you enjoy this horny mess i’ve made. This one’s for all my homies with thicc thighs! directily inspired by this post and then encougraged this idiot

Din DjarinX female!Reader (no y/n)//The Mandalorian

wordcount: 5.4k

warnings: SMUT, dom!Mando, bondage/ropes (not restraints tho), teasing, slight exhibitionism/sex in public, fingering, penetration, cockwarming, oral (f receving), some cum eating, aftercare, shibari **PLEASE NOTE: I DONT KNOW SHIT ABT SHIBARI, THIS FIC IS FANTASY, DO NOT USE IT AS A GUIDE. go learn abt it from someone who knows what they’re talking abt cus that’s not me lol

You hadn’t been sitting long when Mando arrived—crossing the threshold of the cantina exactly when he said he would, as punctual as ever. You watched as he surveyed the room, taking in every patron before moving from the entrance. He made his way across the dusty floor, his steps strong and sure as he approached your table.

Silently he slid in the booth, settling to sit directly next to you with his back to the wall. You had been mindful to choose a table in the back of the room, knowing his preference for positioning himself.

“Have a good morning?” He asked, the visor of his helmet tilting towards you ever so slightly.

“We did,” you smiled, thinking about the little green toddler before taking a sip of your drink as you shifted your weight, adjusting to be more comfortably seated—your surprise for Mando proving to make sitting for an extended period quite awkward. “We went for a walk along the river and caught some toads. Little guy was worn out by the time we got back so he’s down for a nap right now instead of coming along. Any luck finding the lead on that bounty?” You fiddled with the cup in your hand, rocking the bottom of it against the stained wooden table as he hummed in response, the sound coming across crackled through his helmet.

“No.” Mando’s answer was clipped and you could tell he was distracted. Unable to see his eyes, it was impossible to know exactly what he was looking at, but you’d bet all your credits he had finally noticed the creep at the bar.

From the moment you had walked in he’d been staring, watching intently as you ordered your drink and sat down to wait for the Mandalorian. The stranger wore a wide brim hat pulled low over his brow, shading his face in the already dimly lit cantina. You had been stared at plenty of times before, but usually they stopped once they caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian. This guy though, he had continued to keep his head turned squarely in your direction.

“I’ve just been ignoring him,” you stated as you nudged Mando’s elbow with your own, pulling his attention back to you.

“I know,” he replied, still looking out, watching the room. “As long as he doesn’t try anything.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Mando’s hand started to move, pulling away from where it rested on the tabletop. Situations like this with the creep were nothing new, and both you and Mando realized that sometimes, certain displays were effective in getting a message across to strangers that wouldn’t leave you alone. When you were making plans earlier with Mando over the com-link, he suggested meeting up at the cantina, and you wondered if something like this would happen—but as his hand landed on the bare skin just below the hem of your skirt, you suddenly didn’t care.

The worn leather of Mando’s glove cupped your knee, giving a small squeeze before continuing to drift along your thigh. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile—there was a bubble of excitement in your chest that was not only your normal jitters from feeling Mando’s hands on you, but an eagerness for him to discover…

His pinky bumped into it first. You could tell he had noticed by the way his touch hesitated before continuing. Once the rest of his fingers slid further up, stroking over each ridge of the eight woven cords binding around your thighs, his helmet spun around—his neck snapping to face you. You tried to flash him a face of innocence as if you had no idea why you suddenly had the ever-vigilant Mandalorian’s undivided attention.

Looping a finger through one one of the bands wrapped around your legs he tugged, feeling the soft give of your flesh against the coarse material. “Are these ropes?” he asked, his voice sounding low through the vocoder as the visor stayed even, trained on you. You could almost feel his gaze boring into you like blaster fire, watching for even the slightest hint of a tell.

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed with a quick nod. “Tied it myself.”

“I want to see—”

“No!” You spoke quickly, hands jumping to grab his forearm as you interrupted him before remembering to keep your voice low. “Mando, there’s people watching.” You raised your eyebrows, trying to make your point clear but you felt his touch tracing along the crisscrossing cords, following how they snaked around your curves.

You had taken your time before leaving the Razor Crest, starting at your waist and then moving to twist the rope to wrap around each leg four times. The loops were spaced evenly along outside of your thigh, crisscrossing into an alluring woven pattern that drew in towards your center. It had been a spur of the moment idea, a fun way to surprise the Mandalorian—and you were happy with the results so far. You felt secure with the cords winding around your hips and you knew he also enjoyed when you were bound like this—even if it was unusual for you to tie them yourself.

But Mando didn’t like your answer. Seeing his face wasn’t necessary to know he was annoyed, you could feel the warning in the way his hand tensed.

With a gulp you finished off your drink and left the empty cup on the table before moving away from him, scooting out of the booth. He didn’t try to hold you in your seat, letting your legs slide from under his hands. Gathering your things, you draped the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder so the leather crossed your chest, resting comfortable between your breasts.

“I have a few errands I want to run, see if I can find one of those valves and maybe get some food.” You tried to keep your expression nonchalant, attempting to sound candid and not react to the way Mando was watching you. It was hard to tell just where he was looking but you were sure he was imagining you without your flowy orange sundress.

“Fine,” he sighed, his voice sounding like a huff through the distortion of the hemlet. Mando rose from his seat, standing over you before he gestured for you to lead the way.

You couldn’t remember the last time Mando had walked beside you. Usually he trailed two paces behind, keeping you directly in his range of vision as he scanned the surroundings—always on alert incase of a surprise—but now he stayed close, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours until he raised his hand to rest on the small of your back.

His fingers stroked along your hips—something small that seemed like an affectionate caress at first, but he was searching. Once he found the bump from the rope that looped around your middle under the fabric of your dress, he thumbed at it, idly strumming—and training your thoughts on his touch.

You tried to ignore him, searching the stalls as you moved through the open air market. Stepping away from his grasp, you approached a vendor, interested in the fruits they were selling. His hand had fallen from your back but Mando stayed within arm’s reach.

The Mandalorian appeared stoic as ever as you attempted to barter with the middle aged man who stood across the table of produce. The vendor had no way of seeing how Mando’s hand danced around the hem of your skirt behind you—the occasional brush of his fingertips against the back of your leg, or the way he would pinch and tug at your dress distracting you from the conversation at hand. His efforts paired with the language barrier lead you to struggle communicating and eventually give up, waving your hands and walking away.

Mando followed, ever the sentinel at your heels, until you halted to face him.

“Cut it out,” you hissed, feeling a familiar heat creeping into your cheeks from behind your ears. You wondered for a moment if he could tell—he mentioned once his visor had a sensor for changes in body temperature.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His helmet dipped, looking at you as he continued with a professional tone, “I’m just making sure you’re safe. We’re on a new planet, in a strange town surrounded by people. I think it’s prudent I stay close, don't you?”

With a huff you spun on your heel—if he was going to play it like that you’d have your own fun. As you turned you tried to add as much of a twist as you could, knowing well the way the dress’ light fabric flounced with abrupt movements. A subtle fling of your hand guided it to billow and lift, catching the air to reveal just enough. He most likely only saw the briefest glimpse of what you were hiding but you knew that was ample fodder.

You weren’t able to move quickly, the reality of wearing ropes wound around the apex of your thighs while walking in a humid climate was starting to make itself known—and just the feeling of Mando’s hands on you had been exciting enough to make you wet, a fact that was more apparent due to your lack of underwear.

It wasn’t long until Mando was on you again, his touch was more brazen; resting his palm over your ass rather than repeating the glancing touches from before. Reaching back you grabbed at his wrist and pulled his arm forward, hooking your elbow around his to hold him close and keep his wandering touch in place.

Spotting a vender with barrels of grain you steered Mando in her direction, knowing your pantry could always use more rice. This seller was an older woman and knew enough Universal Basic that you were able to discuss prices without much difficulty. As you went back and forth with the vendor, going through the ritual of haggling down to an agreement, you felt Mando’s arm slip away but paid it no mind.

It wasn’t until you turned to Mando to ask if he wanted beans too or not that you noticed he wasn’t there. Frantically you checked over your other shoulder then spun around, searching for the crowd for a glint of his beskar reflecting in the bright sun, but there was nothing, not a single piece of reflective metal in sight. Why would he just walk off without telling you?

Returning to look at the venor, you frantically tried to think how to simply ask for her help. “Please, did you see my—,” Fuck, what do you call Mando? Your boss? Your friend? “The Mandalorian, did you see where he went?” The woman didn’t seem at all concerned by your worried expression as she gestured to the alley around the side of the building she was set up in front of. “Thank you!” You called over your shoulder, already leaving to follow him.

“Mand—,” you started as you rounded the mudbrick corner, halting midstep as you spotted him. Mando was standing face to face with the creep from the bar. You had no clue what they were discussing but it was obvious to you that The Mandalorian was not about to fight him. His posture was relaxed, shoulders rolled back with his thumbs hooked around his belt buckle to rest his arms. If there was the possibility of something happening Mando’s hand would be much closer to his blaster.

Just as you had begun to will your feet to move, Mando and the stranger clasped each other’s forearms and let go, then the stranger then handed something off before turning away. Passing you as he made his exit, the man you had originally thought of as some creep gave you a friendly nod and smile.

“What was that about?” You asked as you stopped next to Mando, still watching the retreating figure over your shoulder.

“The lead I’ve been looking for.” Turning around you noticed what he had been given: a tracking fob with the light still blinking. “Apparently he’s been following me all day, watching. Heard me talking to you, that’s how he knew to be at the cantina.”

“Did you know someone was following you?”

“Of course,” Mando stated, tucking the device away safely into one of his many pouches. Suddenly his on edge behavior all day made a little more sense.

“Well, now that’s all settled,” You began, making to leave the shadowy alley and return to the market. “The lady at the stall was offering an extra half pound of beans for a reduced price if I—”

Mando stopped you mid sentence and stride by a single finger hooked around the rope—keeping you from moving forward in a lazy hold. “We’re not done here,” he admonished, jerking your hips back with a quick tug for added emphasis.

Your body’s reaction to his voice was instant; you could feel a hard pulse of want in your pelvis as he grabbed at your skirt. Bringing your hands to the strap of your bag, you nervously fiddled with it at the center of your chest, fighting the urge to stop his wandering touch even though you were aware of the constant threat of someone walking around the corner.

Mando continued to hold your skirt up with one hand—the fabric balled in a fist he kept resting in the small of your back—as the other dropped. His fingers traced along the ropes, following one from your hips down your thigh before returning back up to grab you ass and moving on to the other thigh. He seemed to be mapping every inch with his touch before he wrapped his fist around the cord at the side of your hip and pulled you to turn around.

Letting out a soft ‘oh’ in surprise you stumbled, falling back slightly until your shoulder blades bumped into the stone wall. “Hold your skirt up,” he ordered, his visor dipping to watch your hands as you grabbed the hem and lifted it like a curtain, unveiling your gift for him. Your cheeks were burning, embarrassed to be doing something so brazen in public, but all you wanted was for him to touch you. You made to press your thighs—the urge to rub them together not even conscious of you—but your skin stung, red and raw from the damp friction, it had begun to chafe. Though you reacted to the pain, separating your legs a little bit more, it sent an exciting tingle through your limbs, adding to the fire burning low in your belly.

With both of his hands available now, Mando started at your waist, trailing over the crisscrossing bindings while his thumbs gently rubbed at the woven design. He came to the loops secured around your outer thighs and his fingers hovered for a moment before hooking underneath.

Gripping the cords, he easily lifted you up off your feet.

Gasping you wavered, off balance and hanging a few inches over the ground. One of your hands dropped your skirt, flying up to brace yourself against his currias as your feet swung, looking for purchase. He held you in the air for a solid moment—the ropes pulling but not biting at your skin due to the harness evenly supporting your weight.

Dropping you to the ground he let out a hum, his hands cupping your hips. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? I think I did pretty well!” You countered, smacking your palm flat against his beskar in protest.

“Your knots need work.” Mando reached to your waist, easily undoing the fastening at the front. “And it’s loose.” Holding the tails in his left fist, he grabbed at the leading lines, giving each a tug hard enough to move your hips as he tightened what he could before finishing with his own knot, pulling three times to secure it. Reaching back to your sides he tested the ropes again, pulling to check they were just right. “If you keep them tight, it won't rub your skin raw as you walk.”

You simpered, biting your lip as you looked away, you had really been hoping he hadn’t noticed, but of course he did—Mando is nothing if not observant.

This time when he gave a hard jerk to spin you around against the wall, you weren’t caught off guard and managed to brace yourself with your hands on the bricks as he pressed up against you. Mando’s hips were flush against your ass, the hard ridge of his cock rubbing along you through the canvas of his trousers.

“Your ass looks so good tied up like this.” Mando’s voice was low, close behind your ear. “All pinched and round, just for me.” His hands traveled around your hips as he leaned back, keeping his erection against you as he squeezed and played with your bottom. You yelped as he gave your left cheek a hard smack, realizing that he had taken his gloves off. He pulled his hips away as his hand slid down between your legs. Letting out something like a whimper at the loss of contact, it quickly morphed into a moan as his thick fingers easily pushed between your lips. You shuddered at the contact, the shock of him finally touching you running up your spine to tingle at the base of your skull as your fingers gripped at the stones before you.

“You like walking around like this don’t you? All bound and teasing me.�� Mando’s voice was deep, coming from somewhere in his chest as he rambled. He knew what his dirty talk did to you and you were sure he could feel the effects now—his fingers pressed against your hole as it fluttered. “It’s obvious how much you love this; you’re dripping,” his tone was chiding but light as his touch swirled around your pussy, showing just how wet you had gotten.

You tried to stay still, pressing yourself against the wall as the rough texture of the bricks dragged against your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress. The sound of Mando playing with your drenched heat was audible over the background hum of the market twenty feet away.

Mando knew what he was doing, teasing you by gliding his fingers everywhere but your clit—you were so worked up that you might cum if he did and he realized this. “So wet, and it got all over the ropes. I bet you’re sore.” His hand pulled away, making a notable squelch as his fingers left your pussy to stroke along your bound inner thighs, spreading your slickness even further and making a mess. “And now you have to walk all the way back to the Razor Crest.”

Once he had finished wiping his hand on your legs, you watched, your cheek still pressed against the wall with eyes half dazed glancing over your shoulder, as he pulled his gloves back on.

“No-o,” you whined pathetically in protest once you fully realized what he was saying. “I was so close, you can’t stop.”

Mando gave your ass—which was still pointed out, your back curled so he had easy access to you—another hard slap before pulling your skirt down over your bottom, hiding the rope harness again. “We need to start moving if we want to get back and have time to fuck before the little one wakes up.”

Through you grumbled out an agreement, you apparently still weren’t moving fast enough for Mando, who grabbed your waist and pulled you up straight, pivoting you to face forward as you kept trying to adjust your dress.

He kept his palm flat against you, resting between your shoulder blades, while exiting the alley way. The sudden light of the sun after being in the shade hurt your eyes. Holding up a hand you tried to shield your face and let Mando guide you until you could see again. Squinting, it took a second to realize why he had stopped.

Standing in front of the same stall from before, Mando spoke up saying something you didn’t understand but the woman pulled up a second sack and began filling it with the beans she had been offering you.

Confused you looking up at Mando and found his helmet turned towards you. “You have the credits,” he said evenly, giving away nothing—his voice sounding as unemotional as ever though his hand on your back was stroking small soothing circles into your skin.

“Oh right,” you mumbled, quickly twisting to search in your shoulder bag for the little purse of metal currency. As you handed the money to the woman—who seemed to take in your flushed cheeks and how close The Mandalorian was standing, before giving you a knowing smirk—Mando hoisted the sack of rice and beans that had been tied together over his shoulder. With a nod he said one more thing which the woman repeated back before he was leading you into the crowd of the market.

Each step you took was careful—cautious to avoid irritating your skin further—focused more on your gait than where you were going as Mando led you through the throng of people who parted easily for the armored man.

“You speak the language here?” You finally asked, looking up at his beskar helmet as you furrowed your brow.

“Only a little bit.”

“And you let me make a fool of myself in front of that fruit seller, while you were pinching my ass?” You were peeved with him but you still wondered what his expression was under there—was he wearing some cheeky grin, thoroughly entertained by your frustrations?

Instead his head turned towards you as he simply replied, “It was cute.”

A hint of a laugh came through the vocoder though, you were sure of it.

+++... .... .. -... .- .-. ..+++

Returning to the Razor Crest the first thing you did was flop into a chair by the makeshift dining table that had been cobbled together as the number of residents on the ship grew. Mando was gone without a word, disappearing into the cockpit with a swish of his cape.

You watched as he climbed the ladder until he was out of view before checking your thighs. With gentle taps you tested the patches of red skin, hissing slightly as you brushed against the largest welt. Luckily the damage was not as bad as you feared and would heal quickly. Carefully you ran your finger along the ropes, feeling just how damp and sticky they had gotten from your excitement.

“How’re you feeling?” Mando’s voice spooked you, making you suddenly aware of his presence as your head shot up and your knees snapped closed. He stood nearby, holding a small jar you recognized as the bacta-ointment he uses on burns and rashes.

“Not nearly as bad as I thought, I should be fine.” You gave him a warm smile as he crossed the grated floor, setting the first aid down as he came to stand in front of you.

“Are you good to keep going? I checked on the little womp rat, he’s still snoring.” Mando’s fingers brushed lightly along the edge of your hand, sending tingles up your arm from the briefest touch.

You bit your lip and nodded, looking up at him through your lashes as you replied, “I am,” but before you could even finish the short confirmation he was already grabbing at you—hoisting you onto the wobbly table by your upper arms.

The jar of bacta clattered onto the floor, mindlessly shoved out of the way. You gasped while Mando practically ripped your dress up over your head, his eagerness to see you nude overriding any caution. Trying to find your balance, you braced yourself with both arms behind you, holding you up right as he grabbed your left leg, bringing it up so your ankle rested on his shoulder.

Sitting on the table like that with your legs spread, you were fully on display for Mando. He let out an approving growl, something that vibrated out from behind his ribs as he made quick work of shedding his belt. You felt a low throb, your pussy begging for him to fill you as you watched him undress.

The head of his cock was almost purple when he pulled it out, precum leaking from the tip. With a swipe between your lips that was too quick to be any kind of satisfying, he gathered your juices on his fingers, and spread your slick along his shaft.

“Mando,” you pleaded, dragging out the last syllable of his nickname into a whine. “I need you inside of me, please.”

He didn’t hesitate, done with teasing you. Mando lined himself up with your center and pushed. His cock filled you quickly, stretching your walls to take his girth but finding no resistance in the abundant lubrication.

“By the Maker,” he hissed, his voice husky even with the distortion and static as he paused, holding in place to enjoy the way your pussy hugged him. “How are you so tight and so wet?” You felt another throb at his words, tensing around him as he spoke.

“It’s because your cock is so fu-fucking bi-ig.” You tried to banter, counter his comments but the way his cock pressed inside you—prodding at your very end—got in the way of you forming coherent thoughts.

With a deep groan, Mando started to move, pulling out as you whimpered. He held your waist, fingers gripping at your bindings when he thrusted back into you. Wasting no time, he settled into a brutal pace, fucking you hard with such a convenient handle. You moaned and shuddered, your own hips matching his movements, chasing the tension you could feel building in your core as his cock dragged inside you. You tried to hold yourself up against the table but you were tired and your arms quickly got sore.

“Mando—,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his chest to catch his attention. He halted abruptly, his visor snapping up from where he’d been watching your pussy take him to your eyes. “Flip me over,” you requested, your voice airy but loud enough for him to hear.

His breathing was heavy, little puffs coming from his helmet as he nodded. Pulling again on the ropes he rolled you onto your front, drawing your hips back from the edge before sinking into you with ease. You let out a low moan, the head of his cock bumping into that wonderful spot deep inside of you with every thrust from this angle. He continued, ruthlessly pounding into you without mercy as he held onto the cords around your waist for leverage—there wasn’t much more you could do besides take him, letting him fuck you as he pleased.

Your orgasm was building, you could feel your scalp tighten and your toes curl, your muscles tensing, preparing as you approached the crest. You weren’t aware you were talking but you could hear your voice begging him to keep going, don’t stop. At the encouragement he doubled his efforts, leaning forward so his hand rested next to your head. He was hitting deeper than ever with this position and you felt yourself let go with a wail.

“Fu-uck,” Mando moaned in your ear, the curve of his helmet over his brow dropping to rest against your temple. He went stiff above you and you could feel the way his cock pulsed inside you, spilling his cum as your walls rhythmically clenched tight, convulsing around him.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, silently basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasms while your breathing leveled. Mando’s broad form covered you as he kept you pinned against the table top. He held himself up slightly, balancing on one elbow close enough you could feel his armor brush against your shoulder blades with each inhale.

You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the security of lying beneath his protective body—nothing could hurt your right now with him both above and inside you.

His free hand began to roam, gliding along your ribs before approaching the ropes at your waist. His fingers followed the cords around to your front, coming to rest at the fastened knot just below your belly button.

Without needing to see, Mando was able to nimbly undo the knot, prising the right tails to loosen it’s hold. He continued to tug and pull, unraveling the harness as much as he could before rising from on top of you.

You were disappointed as the cool recycled air of the hull moved in to wrap around you, filling in where he had been. Shivering slightly, you cracked an eye open. Mando knelt behind you—both hands bare—as he carefully unwound the ropes, taking every caution to not irritate your skin more than it already was.

Once your hips were free he tossed the bundle to the side before gathering the bacta-ointment from where it had rolled off to. He stopped for a moment, staring at your thighs and you wondered if he liked the textured imprints the harness had left behind. Scooping up the cream with three fingers, he gently smoothed it across your affected skin. The contact of the cold ointment was shocking at first contact—you gasped and wiggled, but Mando’s wide hand gripped your thigh to keep you still.

He took his time spreading it across your skin—rubbing it in more than you were sure was necessary, covering every inch where the rope had been, not just your inner thighs—before his touch found your pussy again. You couldn’t help but flinch as his fingertips bumped against your clit, still sensitive after the orgasm.

“You’re so wet still,” he intoned, quietly speaking more to himself than you before he picked up his voice. “Close your eyes and don’t open them.”

You knew what this meant and obliged without hesitation, squeezing your eyelids shut before bringing a hand to cover your face as added protection.

You heard an audible hiss and click that you recognized as the release mechanism of his helmet. There was a tingle that ran up your limbs at the sound, an excitement that raced from the tips of your fingers and toes to your core because you knew that noise heralded his lips on you.

His hands grabbed at your ass, parting your cheeks to give him the perfect view of his cum dripping from your hole. Though you were expecting it, you were not prepared. His warm mouth connected with your pussy, immediately lapping at your juices. Flattening his tongue he drew it along your slit, catching every drop he could while brushing at your clit.

You moaned loudly at the stimulation, every touch feeling more vivid with your lack of sight. There was no way for you to watch him, but you could still listen—hearing the obscene slurps as he reveled in your cunt, as if he was doing this more for his pleasure than yours.

Mando’s tongue toyed with your nub, making your knees tremble as that feeling deep in your belly began to quickly bubble up. You called his name as your free hand flew back to grab at him. Sealing his lips around your clit, he sucked while sinking two thick fingers into your blushed hole.

Your fist clenched around his hair, tugging hard, but that only seemed to encourage him. One of his hands pumped into you, his finger curling just right to press down on that spot inside you, as the other gripped your hips—hard enough you were sure it would bruise—holding you against his face while he smothered himself between your lips.

You moaned and writhed against the table before crumpling under his ministrations. Yelling into your palm you came hard and all over his face. He continued to finger you, feeling the way your walls clenched around him as if drawing his digits further into your channel before the contact became all too much. Every brush was over stimulating, your hips involuntarily jerking away from him and into the table’s edge until he pulled back.

Limp against the surface, you couldn’t move—only able to take deep breaths as your heart pounded—your hand still clamped tight over your eyes until you hear Mando give the ok.

You can hear him shifting around, standing up and gathering his helmet before his unmodulated voice commented, “Once you’re all healed, you need to show me how you tied that. I want to see how long you can hang in it.”

///

THANKS FOR READING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS DAY DREAM

(￣y▽,￣)╭

TAGOS: @pascalisthepunkest @whenimaunicorn @cptnbvcks @no-droids @rzrcrst @readsalot73 @spacegayofficial @lannister-slings-and-arrows @libellule2001 @nolivingthingdroid @chelsfic @lizzabex @hopelikethesun @themandjalorian @stevieharrrr @magichandthing

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #my writing

653 notes · View notes

iworshipkeanureeves · 4 years

Text

Tiny Presents

Domestic!John Wick x Reader

Haven’t written in a while, but @toomanystoriessolittletime writing celebration was a good motivation (so thank you for that!). I really hope I still got this in me.

Prompt: “This is our last Christmas with just the two of us.”

Words: 1054

Masterlist

You can’t believe it.

Elated, you squeeze the key bundle in your freezing hands, failing to grasp the right one, as the excitement is making you extremely hyper. You want to tell him. You need to tell him.

Shutting the door behind yourself, you finally feel the warmth of your home. “John? I’m back!” you call him, tossing the groceries to the side, yet only the Christmasy smell of gingerbread greet you; no sign of John whatsoever.

Not surprising, you think to yourself. He must still be where you’ve left him – in the basement, binding old books, which you’ll be donating to the local library for Christmas.

Times are different now and since you won’t be meeting friends and family this year, you’ve both decided it is the perfect time to give back to your community and spread the jolly spirit.

You glance at the corner – on the top of your grocery bag lies the best Christmas give you could ever give; maybe a bit frightening one as well. Just this morning, you had a completely different plan in mind. First, the tailor’s shop to pick up a Christmas present for John, then the doctor’s appointment, and finally grocery shopping for Christmas bakes. Now, your grocery bag is missing half of the things you’ve been planning to get, and instead you’ve ended up with a vintage book sheathing a whole new chapter for you and John.

You take the new purchase out of the bag and exhale heavily, pressing it tightly to your chest. It’s happening.

Descending, you find John just where you’ve expected to. His broad frame surrounded by stacks of numerous revived books, and the smell of leather complimenting his tough virile look. Right away, you notice a paring knife in John’s hand with solid focus adorning his face; yet, the second he spots you, it all fades.

“Hey,” John beams. “Managed to get everything you needed?” He stretches his arm, bringing you closer for a chaste kiss, but you manage to get in between John and his desk, ending up in his lap.

“Yes,” you try to remain subtle, but John can notice your cheeky grin. “And actually, more than that,” you uncover an old-looking brown book with golden edges form behind your back, handing John the early vintage edition Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen.

“Merry early Christmas, John,” you smile, gifting him another quick peck, before his mind wanders off to a captivating item in your hands.

Very carefully, John takes it, running his fingertips along the delicate and a bit frayed spine. He’s silent, as his sturdy fingers keep examining the book; you can see he’s interested but you’re eagerly anticipating for John to open it and take a look.

And once he does, the book opens in the exact right place, with a monochrome picture conveniently acting as a bookmark, making John immediately aware of what this means. For a moment, his breathing ceases and he looks up trying to find words. “Is that...?” He mutters, holding a picture in his shaking hand.

“Yes, that’s exactly that,” you giggle, leaning closer to give John a tight hug. His heart is pounding, you can feel it through his chest. Together, you’ve been dreaming of this for so long, that it is still incredibly hard to believe. You and John will be bringing new life into this world, surreal.

With you still wrapped around his neck, John glances back at the picture, with one tiny detail catching his sharp eye. “Wait a second,” he leans his head back, making an adorably confused frown, “Is it possible there’s two of them?”

“Yeah,” you laugh; the thought of having not just one but two is still hard to grasp, and John definitely isn’t the only one astounded in this place. As joyous as it is, you’re freaking out a bit. Twins, who would have thought. With John, however, you’re pretty sure it’s going to be manageable; he’ll be the best dad.

You’ve no idea what he’s thinking, but as you notice John’s eyes beginning to pool, you remember how emotional he actually is. Trying to help John sort his feelings, you briefly run your fingertips along his jawline, with your palms ending up cupping his cheeks. And then, as the first tear emerges, you drag your soft thumb over it. “Is this still a happy cry or…?” You smile.

“What do you think?“ As John giggles, another pair of tears escape his lively eyes. “It only doubles the happiness,” the glee in John’s face makes you completely certain that this one of the most joyous moments you’ve experienced together so far.

He’s still shaking, he’s excited, ecstatic. Not even for a moment, John can’t stay still, he can’t calm down; already, John has peppered you with kisses more than a dozen times, and you can feel he wants to squeeze you, but in his eyes you’re too fragile now.

After a while, you begin to notice that John is slowly coming back to Earth, and his gaze drifts towards the book spread out on the table. From the way he stares at his gift, you know John can’t wait to start working on it.

You, on the other hand, have something else in mind. “Wanna celebrate it upstairs?” You wiggle slightly, sitting in his lap, and with a light tug on his shirt, you give John a suggestive smirk.

“This book needs a lot of work,” he speaks, completely fixated on his Christmas gift.

You can’t be too mad, you see how important that is to him. “John,” you chuckle, “You’ll have seven more months to finish this up.” Tucking a loose strand behind his ear and then pressing your lips to his tense forehead, you encourage John again. “Come on.”

The seven months part must have really gotten to him; hearing you say it out loud made everything feel much more real. In seven months, John will be welcoming a pair of newborns with the woman of his dreams. “Can you believe this is our last Christmas with just the two of us?” He speaks.

“Exactly, so let’s g-.” Even before you can finish your words, John stands up with you secured around his hips. A playful squeal escapes your throat and he mutes it with a passionate kiss.

Tag-list: @keandrews @rdjloverxxx @greenmanalishi @lilywoood (message me to be added or removed)

#John Wick #John Wick imagine #domestic!John wick #pregnancy fic #john wick fanfiction #John Wick oneshot #stephschristmaswritingchallenge #christmas fanfiction #tw: pregnancy #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves fanfiction #John Wick fluff #oneshot #imagine #John Wick fic

117 notes · View notes

firefly464 · 4 years

Text

The Real World - Chapter 12

Alright chapter 12 lets goooo. Another slightly slower chapter, but I promise that its gonna be picking up real soon. Also Pami wrote the irl bit because shes the coolest and I love her :D

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now Thank you to @rivys for beta reading and editing!

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

Dream stared at his friend, confusion and worry filling his mind. The teenager had been staring into space for the past minute or so, not responding to either him or Tubbo. Dream hadn’t been too concerned, until he noticed that Tommy was crying.Tears were streaking down Tommy’s face, forging a path on his cheeks. His expression was filled with a mixture of hope and fear, his eyes glazed over, like he was listening to something that no one else could hear.

“Tommy? Hellooo? You ok?” Dream asked, waving a hand in front of his face. No response. He glanced over at Tubbo, trying to see if he had any ideas. Instead, when Dream made eye contact with him, Tubbo flinched and sank back into his seat, as if trying to disappear. Right. Of course Tubbo was scared of him. Everyone was scared of him.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

The younger brunette stared at him in fear, unsure of how he was supposed to respond. If Dream had said those same words to him a month ago, he would have ran, no questions asked. Now though, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know this man, had no idea what he was like. All he had to go off of was what Tommy had said.

His eyes darted over towards his spaced out friend. “What did you do to him?” He asked, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. He had only stood up to Dream once, and it had resulted in him nearly losing his arm. Slowly, as to not draw attention to himself, he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. If this went south, then he sure as hell needed to be ready to defend himself.

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything, I promise” Dream dropped the bow and put his hands up in an attempt to show he meant no harm. He understood why Tubbo was so scared of him, but that didn’t change the fact that it stung. How could it not? Someone who he had thought of as a friend was now trembling before him in fear.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you hurt Tommy in any way I will not hesitate to run you through.” Tubbo’s voice shook with fear, despite his best attempts at keeping it steady.

Seeing the young teenager like this, Dream couldn’t help but be filled with pity and sadness. He was only 16, still just a kid. He should have been worried about homework, or some other small problem. He shouldn’t be stressing over whether or not he was going to live through the day, or who was going to try and hurt him next. It just wasn’t right.

Dream nodded, his hands still raised.“I promise, Tubbo, I didn’t do anything, and I don’t plan on hurting either of you.”

“Tubbo…” A soft voice startled them both. Tommy was now staring at the fallen bow, the tears freely flowing.

Tubbo’s attention was instantly drawn to his best friend, his eyes filled with overwhelming concern. “Hey man, you ok?”

Tommy looked up at his friend. A pang of homesickness shot through him. Everything about the boy next to him felt… wrong. He knew that it was still Tubbo, but that didn’t change the fact that it didn’t seem right. He was too tense, too nervous. It was as if at any moment, he could be attacked. It was so different from the laid back attitude of his Tubbo. The one that got excited over the smallest things. The one who casually went around killing people in game for no real reason. Tommy couldn’t help but miss the energetic and fun loving Tubbo from his own world. Still, he was still his friend.

Without hesitation, Tommy reached over to give his friend a hug. The tears continued to flow as the words of the message replayed in his mind. ‘I swear, we’re gonna figure something out and get you guys out of there. I promise.’ It wasn’t much to go off of, but goddammit what did he have to lose?

Tubbo couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden hug. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Sorry, sorry” Tommy quickly said, backing up and giving his friend space. He frantically wiped the tears off his face and tried to compose himself. “Yeah, I’m good.” “What the hell was that? You just zoned out, are you sure you’re ok?” Dream asked.

“I uh, I think I just got a message from Tubbo. Our Tubbo,” he made sure to clarify. “Apparently he’s been working with Wilbur and the other Tommy to try and bring us home…”

Dream felt his jaw drop. “Wait, really?! You’re kidding!”

“I swear to you that I am not joking. Trust me, I want to go home as much as you do.”

“How?! What did he say? What do we do?”

“There’s- There’s a console. Apparently it's like the server console back home, but it's an actual physical computer here. According to Tubbo it has the ability to do some really weird shit.”

“Like run regular commands?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Damn, imagine what kinda fucked up shit you could do with that kinda thing…”

“Uh huh, imagine what kind of fucked up shit this other Dream already did with that thing.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“So how exactly does this help us get home?”

“Right, right. I guess that the other Dream figured out how to swap people’s souls across dimensions or something with it.”

Dream’s face lit up as he made the connection. “We could do it too! We could use the command to swap us back and put everything back to normal!” A rush of excitement filled him. Finally, finally they had some direction. They actually had a goal, something to work towards. They had hope. “Where is it? Where can we find it?”

“See, that's the problem. Actually, there's two problems. One, we don’t know the command. Tubbo was thinking if we could make it to the console, we might be able to communicate with them and figure something out.”

“Wait, what? How would that even work?”

Tommy shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m honestly just hoping that Tubbo knows what he’s doing.”

“Riiight. So what's the other problem?”

Tommy took a deep breath and tried to find something, anything else to look at. He didn’t want to look Dream or Tubbo in the eyes when he told them the truth. Eventually, his eyes rested on the white, porcelain mask that hung on the wall. The simple smile seemed to bore into his very soul, taunting him in a way. He looked away. “The computer is super far away. Apparently it takes a couple days to reach on foot.”

“Ok? And?”

“According to the other Tommy, the other Dream is going to delete the server in a little less than 48 hours, which would most likely result in every single one of us dying a very painful death.”

Dream let out a low whistle. “Right. So you’re telling me that we have to go and find this super powerful computer that's really far away, try to come up with a plan, and figure out what the right command is within the next 48 hours, or the world will be deleted and we all die.”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Right. Ok, no pressure.” he ran a hand through his hair, already trying to figure out what the best course of action was. “Where exactly is the console?”

“He said it’s in this room made out of bedrock in the middle of a dark forest, almost directly east of us.”

Dream nodded. “Got it. Tommy, go let George know what's going on. See if he wants to join us. It’d probably be smart to have someone who actually knows what they’re doing with us. I’m going to get together some supplies.”

“Got it. Tubbo, do you wanna come with us?” Tommy asked, startling the brunette.

He had been deep in thought, trying to keep up with the conversation. He was confused, but he also didn’t want to ask any questions and risk angering Dream. He shook his head. “I’m good. You guys uh, you’ll need someone to cover for you, right? I can tell Wilbur what's going on…” He was lying, of course. He just didn’t want to spend any more time around Dream. Sure, Tommy trusted him, but that didn’t change the fact that just looking at the man brought back painful memories.

“Ok, that's probably smart. Make sure he knows that the other Tommy is safe, ok? He’s going to be coming home soon.”

A slight smile crossed Tubbo’s face. “Alright. I can do that. I’ll uh, I’ll see you guys later then.” He rushed out of the base, running towards L’manberg.

Dream and Tommy were silent, neither of them mentioning the obvious. If all went according to plan, then they would never see this version of Tubbo again.

~~~

“Florida?!” Tubbo cried, flabbergasted. “We’re going to Florida? That’s like a 9 hour flight!” All this SMP stuff was making his head spin. First, it was just Tommy and Dream’s disappearance, then it escalated to something much, much worse. His friends’ lives were at stake if they didn’t do anything. He honestly didn’t want to believe Tommy, but something told him that what he’s saying is true.

“Look, I’m used to taking on my problems in person. I can’t just sit in front of this thing- whatever weird gadget this is- and do nothing! We have to go there!” Tommy explained.

“Tommy, what will you tell everyone else? What will you tell your parents? You can’t just prance up to them and go ‘hello dearest parents! As it turns out, I’m not your son, but I’m him from another dimension! Y’know how he plays that video game? It’s that dimension! Anyways, I’m off to Florida to go do a murder! I’ll be home before dinner!’ How do you think that’s gonna go down?” Wilbur said.

“Will, I know what I’m doing! This psychopath is gonna try to kill my friends. I need to save them.” Tommy told them desperately. “If we reach him, we can get to his computer and I can go home!”

“We don’t even know where he lives, Tommy!” Wilbur retaliated.

“Well, I might.” Tubbo said, nonchalantly.

Wilbur blinked. “You what? You’re not going to hack him, Tubbo-”

“He isn’t our Dream, Will. This is probably the only chance we have to do this! Lives are at stake!”

“But there’s laws--” Wilbur sighed, pulling on his face in resignation. He still had trouble believing in this. Dimension travel? Souls? A few days ago he’d say they never existed. But, now… “Okay, fine. I can get us three to Florida. Earliest flight I can get us will be at about five-in-the-morning. We find Dream and we…” Wilbur trailed off.

“Kill him.” Tommy gritted out.

“NO!” Wilbur and Tubbo shouted.

“Tommy, we are not going to kill him. We need our Dream and Tommy to come back and send both of you back. If you kill him-” Wilbur explained.

“Okay, fine,” Tommy sighed, cutting off whatever it was Wilbur was about to say. “We won’t kill him. We just need to hold him long enough for him to tell us the command.”

“And what if he refuses to tell us?”

“Then we make him tell us.”

~~~

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

#hey whoever commented about how they had to go to florida #you're a prophet and really cool #i dunno how you managed to figure it out but im just gonna assume it was magic #tubbo_#tubbolive #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #The Real World #The Real World AU #dream smp #l'manberg #my writing #mcyt #mcyt au #fanfiction #dream team #tommyinnit

122 notes · View notes

jamestrmtx · 4 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Eight | Dating Start! (Part 2 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"Can I see your hand for a moment?"

The question's immediate, guilt pushing you to blurt it out the second you step foot out of Snowdin. Even so, he doesn't rush in giving you an answer and, rather, looks at you like you've asked the most absurd question of the century. "C'mon, pal," he says, sneering. "Don't tell me you're still worked up about this?"

Beyond pissed he's brushed it off so easily while you're still stressing your years out over it, you huff and hold back the urge to glare at him. "Yes, I am. Now can you show it to me, please?"

"Alright."

Sans gives in with a grin and takes off his gloves. Then, he shows you the hand you'd hit to reveal there's a reddish mark visible on it despite him being made out of bones. "See what I mean? Your hand's got a bruise on it!" You frown at the sight and take his hand, using your thumb to rub at the injury. "Does it hurt? I figured you could still bruise… But just, not like this."

"I'll be fine," he says, pulling his hand back. "That's probably just frostbite or somethin'." He walks with you to the nearby river and sits down next to it, letting his legs drape over the edge and shoes barely graze the surface of the water. "It'll fade after a while."

"At least let me try to do something," you say, persistent. You sit next to him and look at his hand again, now resting on one of the many puddles surrounding the floor. True to his word, the mark starts to fade with the help of the lukewarm water, though only slightly and -- when compared to his other hand -- it's clear as day the mark that's left is a result of you swatting his hand away earlier. "Give me your hand."

"In marriage?"

You bite back a smile, caught off guard more than you would like to admit. "Are you that set on teasing me like this from now on?" you retort, maintaining a stern look throughout. "I thought you said you weren't interested in this kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, but flirting's different."

"So now you admit you're flirting with me?"

"You're not gonna give this a rest, aren't ya?"

"Not unless you show me your hand again."

"Fine." He chuckles, offering his hand out to you. "Go ahead."

You take his hand -- left bare now that he's not wearing gloves anymore -- and place it over your thigh as a makeshift table. Then, you take a first aid kit from your backpack and retrieve a few items from it. "Stay still," you say, facing his hand. "I'm not sure if human-made medicine works the same with monsters, but…" You disinfect the wound, rub some cooling gel over the burn mark, and stick a waterproof bandage on it after, all while ignoring how tense his hand gets until you're finished with the process.

"Nervous?" you ask, grinning. "Your hand's all stiff now."

"I thought you said you would give your own teasin' a rest?"

"It's not teasing if it's the truth."

The conversation's ended on that when his phone starts to ring.

He stands up, reaches out for it and -- though he tries his best not to let it show -- it's made more than obvious he doesn't want you to see who the caller is by how awkward his body language gets. His irises jump from the phone and a nearby spot for him to possibly answer the call without any interruptions, to your face and the hand you healed up. A conflict seems to settle itself out in his mind when he decides to take the call right where he is, though still without revealing who the person is.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other side booms with a "Have you done it yet?", impatience present in their voice. It's a familiar sounding one, though you don't want to jump to conclusions yet with how bizarre the possibility is.

"Tell them everything in detail, or I'll do it myself in front of a whole damn crowd," is another line you can hear from the person, how quiet Waterfall is allowing you to listen to them even as Sans tries to lower the volume some.

"I will," he mutters, a neutral tone masking the subtle, annoyed look on his face, completed with him rolling his irises. "Just gimme a sec, will ya? I'm kinda in the middle of somethin' right now."

The skeleton hangs up after that and lets out a quiet sigh. He seems troubled in more ways than one, something that increments when he makes eye contact with you. "You, uh... probably heard that with how loud he was, huh?" he asks, hangdog. "It's about time I told you more about myself, though. So it's only fair."

"What do you mean?" You frown, stand up, and take a step closer to his side; fighting back the urge to push any further is almost impossible to do, yet you try it either way. "And... Who was that?"

"You probably won't like the answer to that last question, but, well…" He scratches the back of his neck as he takes a breath. "He basically gave me a deadline for me to tell you all about who I am, and who I used to be."

"Who is he, then?"

"Your ex."

An instinct to retreat from the conversation arrives at the mention of that man, though you push through it. Running away from the subject wouldn't do you good anymore, especially now, taking into consideration how Jerry's apparently given up on trying to communicate with you through text, and instead chosen to place the burden on others rather than by approaching you directly. "Block him," you blurt out, anger nulling your subtlety and tact. "And if he's blackmailing you into this, I'll deal with him. Even if he wants you to confess about everything, he still needs to be way more upfront about it. Hiding behind threats and text messages won't do him any favours on my part or anyone else's."

He sits down with you again. The rippling and bubbling sounds of the waterfall clashing with the river help soothe the tension between you, aiding you both in finding the will to carry on with the conversation. It's likely a busy place like a city on a Monday or the shop back at Snowdin wouldn't've been adequate places for you to discuss this with him, so you bask under the calm and silence of Waterfall as you wait for him to decide on what to do. "I mean it," you say, facing him. "If he's threatening you, I'll talk with him. It's no use for you to tell me everything by force than through honesty -- like you've done so far. It… It feels more genuine, and I like it better that way."

You break your gaze away and carry it over to the river, casting it down to look at your reflection in the water. Your fingers brush with the surface as you continue to wait for him to speak up, and a ghostly warmth stays on your fingertips despite the anticipation of the water being cold, a brief sensation that fades when you pull your hand back. Your skin glows with the help of the echo flowers spread all around the area, and the near translucent water serves as natural lighting for the mellow darkness of your surroundings. Of all the places you'd been given a tour of since arriving at the Underground, Waterfall was by far the most breathtaking of them all.

"It's fine," he says, casual self returning. "I was gonna tell you along the way to Hotland, either way."

"Pinky promise you're not being forced by him?" you ask, looking at him once more and offering him your pinky.

His nose cavity flares as he lets out a laugh, though he still extends his pinky out and locks it with yours. "Pinky promise I'm not."

• • •

The mood leftover after the promise begins to vanish when Sans starts to talk about what Jerry called him for, and it takes a turn for the worse when the monster reaches the topic of Toriel and her relationship with Frisk.

"So she really let them go all alone?"

"Yeah, but after she tested to see if they were strong enough to. The kid wanted to explore beyond the Ruins, and so she let them go after that."

He's explained everything the man at the bus yelled at you for, though -- of course -- in a much calmer, detailed manner than him.

"She cared so much for them, that at the end of it all, she even asked them if they wanted to live with her at the Surface."

"Y- You mean as her child?" you ask, voice breaking with your shock. "Why would she even ask that? Did... Did Frisk never tell her they ran away?"

"Not until the Barrier broke," he replies, kicking a stray rock into the water. It makes the surface ripple further and -- once it reaches the bottom -- it starts to glow, resembling the rocks visible in the Underground's makeshift, starry sky. "They said they had somewhere else to be, and that's when they told her all about you and how they wanted to go back home."

"So if they were angry at me, I… I might've never seen them again?"

Anger mixes with your lament, troubling you to the point where you can't judge the situation rationally anymore -- or without being influenced by your emotions so heavily, at least.

"Are you… Are you really telling me she would have replaced me as a parent? I… I-"

"Whoa there," he intervenes, letting out a nervous laugh. "That's not what I meant by that. She didn't know until after she asked them that, so what I'm sayin' is-"

"She wanted to keep Frisk as her child, Serif. That's enough of a reason for me to feel angry about this." Your voice raises and a glare shows up on your face. He stands up in response to your change in mood and tries to ease you out of your anger by offering a hand out to you. "I… I'm more than relieved she looked after them for so long, but… But couldn't she ask them over why they fell down here? Why didn't she ask them if they had someone to look after them way before that, and why did she try to keep them in the Ruins rather than help them journey through the Underground safely?"

"Now that's a bit complicated for me to explain, but…" He sighs and looks up at you when you take his hand and let him help you stand up again. "At the end of the day, it's better if she tells you all about that herself. She understands why she did that better than I ever will, and she can tell you stuff I otherwise won't be able to tell you without her prior knowledge." Although he doesn't have a throat, he almost seems to gulp with the next pause he takes. "But, well… If you need more context as to why she was so attached to Frisk as a parent, she lost both her biological son and adoptive kid way back when."

Your eyes falter in their glare when he says that, though your own emotions still keep you from softening up in response to such a reveal. Respecting Toriel's privacy by not forcing Sans to tell you all about her seems like the most humane thing to do even more now, so you let your glare fade away and ease in with a smile, fueled by sympathy. "...Alright," you say, letting out a breath as you allow your body to free itself from tension. "I understand, and I'm… I'm sorry for prying into this. I didn't know."

Expecting more words from him, you're contradicted when he only chooses to smile back at you and nod. "Anythin' else ya wanna ask me about myself, though? Take a breather, and tell me when you're ready to talk some more."

"Thank you."

You take up his advice and take a moment to compose yourself. You start by looking for your medicine and taking the one you need to for the hour it is; then, you drink some water and take a look at yourself through the river's reflection to see your eyes are already on the verge of watering up again. Continuously feeling sad over the past is almost a trademark of yours now, so you want to shatter that custom by mustering up as much emotional strength as you possibly can.

When you're more confident with yourself, you put the medicine back and drink the rest of the water, storing the empty bottle away after.

"You were a sentry for the Underground, weren't you?"

The skeleton either didn't hear you, or your question's caught him off guard, the latter you try to discard when you see he's busy helping a small bird cross the waterfall, it's wings too weak for it to battle against the wind caused by the strength of the rushing water. He walks back to the river after that, though once he makes it back with you, it's noticeable how he's chosen not to answer your question yet, judging by the way his irises divert from yours the second he tries to look at you in the eye. "...Yeah," he says, finally managing a reply. "I know we've talked about this before, but… Could you still promise me you won't freak out too much? Or at least, well... Not at the same level as that guy back at the bus? Not that I don't want you to feel upset, but I just don't want you to end up in the hospital again because of somethin' like this."

"Believe me, I won't," you say, voice and gaze both stern, albeit softened by his words. "That's the last thing I want. But… Could you still tell me more about you in that sense? I want to know more about what your job as a sentry implied -- to more detail, I mean."

"Go ahead," he says, nodding. "I'll try to answer with as much depth as I can."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

That moment when you have to cut the chapter into 1 more part because you hadn't checked the word count, and part 2 was 5k words long. 👀

Also, quick fun fact: I almost wrote 'promise by the tiny claw' rather than 'pinky promise', because where I'm from we say 'lo prometo por la garrita', and my brain just failed to come up with the proper translation for pinky finger in English for a whole solid minute, lol.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

46 notes · View notes

snifflyjoonie · 4 years

Text

I Told You So

In which “I told you so” smells suspiciously like daffodils.

fever (with a bit of snz)-centric featuring Jimin as the sickie and a distant Yoongi (plus a take-no-bullshit Namjoon) as the caretakers.

Word Count: 2664

FlowerShop!AU Part 3

Part 2 | Part 4

a/n: Surprise again? 💀 I have no excuses for this besides the fact that these two live in my brain permanently. I know no one requested this but just bare with me here, lol. I have a lot of fun building their little narrative and I hope you guys enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them. I changed this story to present tense whereas the last two were past, so I hope that doesn’t mess up the flow of these too much. Anyway, without further ado, let’s get into it!

There weren’t many things Park Jimin regretted in his life. In fact, he was a firm believer in the phrase ‘everything happens for a reason’. Every choice you ever made influenced your day to day and in turn, your life in the long run. Taking risks was what made life exciting and worthwhile. Besides — if he had chosen to not take risks he knew for a fact his life would have been drastically different to what it was today. For example, choosing to take an apprenticeship at a floral shop was a risk. Not going to University was a risk. Opening his own shop at twenty-four was a risk. Risks paid off. Hard work paid off. Jimin was a prime example of this. Every little micro-decision he had ever made led him to this point in his life, and he knew for a fact he wouldn’t change any of it.

Especially the part where he visited Min Yoongi — even if that meant catching his cold.

“You look like shit.”

Jimin lets out a long sigh that borders on a tired laugh as his glassy eyes settle on Namjoon. He was sure the other was right, but he really didn’t want to hear it.

“That’s nice of you to point out.” He mumbles as he brings the back of his wrist up to scrub at his nose. “Thanks.”

“I do what I can.” Shrugs the other, but there is a smirk on his face that hints he’s trying to be playful. Jimin is very much not in the mood. “Maybe you should call it for the day and just head home.” He adds, voice softening.

The florist sighs again and lets his chin rest into his palm. The skin of his cheek feels flushed against his fingers and it makes him frown. He really does feel like shit, there’s no way around it. It had only been three days since he had showed up at Yoongi’s, but he had definitely caught the man’s cold. He was never very good at hiding things like this, especially from people like Namjoon.

“Mm, it’s only 3pm.” He replies after a moment as he sprawls his arms across his front counter and lets his head fall onto the cool wood. “I still have 2 hours before close.”

“Jimin, you’re the owner.” Namjoon chuckles as Jimin lets out a low groan. “You can close early. You should think about closing up tomorrow, too. Give yourself a day.”

Jimin raises his head and gives it a small shake, disapproving of Namjoon’s suggestion. He just wasn’t the type to stop working, especially because of something as trivial as a cold.

His business was small, but he stayed busy as the owner and sole employee. He couldn’t afford to close the shop for a few hours, let alone for a full day to recover. He didn’t think he had really ever taken a sick day since opening up a year prior.

“Can’t.” He manages back, pushing himself upright once more. “I have deliveries to make tomorrow. They have to get done.”

Namjoon nods sympathetically and rests his elbows onto the countertop, folding his hands together in front of himself. Jimin can tell from his expression that he’s working out what to say next.

“Tell you what,” He eventually starts, locking eyes with Jimin. “I have nothing going on tomorrow. Let me make your deliveries.”

Jimin’s eyes widen at the other’s suggestion and his response catches in his throat, sending him into a sputtering cough. He grips the counter with one hand for support and does his best to turn away from Namjoon, bending deep into his elbow to try to keep his coughing contained.

“No, no you — youdon’t —” He’s coughing too hard to get his sentence out and instead just shakes his head. Namjoon frowns and makes his way around the counter in a second, delivering a few firm but tender pats to Jimin’s back until the coughs begin to cease. Jimin is grateful, but a bit embarrassed. He clears his throat harshly and brings a hand up to rest against the center of his chest. He had just choked on spit, but there’s no way Namjoon would believe him.

“You don’t have to, uh—” He clears his throat a second time. “—do that, Joon. I’m positive I’ll be able to just sleep this off, and—”

Jimin is abruptly cut off when Namjoon’s palm makes contact with the flushed skin of his cheek. His hand is a welcoming cool sensation against his overtly warm skin and it takes every ounce of self control Jimin can muster to not melt into the touch.

Namjoon tuts in disapproval at what he feels, removing his hand from Jimin to instead adjust the beanie on his head.

“Feels like you have a fever.” He says it as if Jimin doesn’t already know. “You gotta go home, Jimin. Fill me in on what I need to do for tomorrow and then get outta here. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Namjoon has always been like this. He had a commanding presence, even back in highschool, and it was hard to say no to him once he made his mind up on something. His personality fit well with his job as a bartender as he always knew when to put his foot down when things seemed to be getting out of hand. He was a good friend to have, and Jimin valued the bond they shared, but Namjoon simply wasn’t someone you won arguments against. Jimin knew there was nothing he could say to convince Namjoon to just let it go.

Defeated, Jimin quietly opens a drawer and pulls out one of his notebooks and a pen. It takes him a second, but he writes out detailed instructions on what to expect and things that have to get done. Namjoon watches intently, reading over Jimin’s shoulder as he goes. Finally, after a moment, Jimin rips the paper from the notebook and hands it over, along with a second smaller notebook that simply says ‘deliveries’ on its cover in bold, black lettering.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Jimin asks, a hint of nervousness present in his voice. No one had ever done any of his shop’s deliveries before besides himself. If it were anyone but Namjoon, Jimin didn’t think he would budge as easily.

“Course not.” Namjoon reaffirms with a dimpled smile, happy to have convinced — or more realistically, forced — Jimin to take a break. “I got it, Jimin. Everything will be fine, I promise you. You can thank me later when you’re feeling better.” He adds the last part jokingly, and gives Jimin a bit of a shove. It manages to make the florist crack a smile, and for a split second, Jimin allows a feeling of relief to wash over him.

He wouldn’t admit it to Namjoon, but the deliveries had been weighing heavily on his mind. His fever was making it hard to focus and left him feeling like his head was full of television static. He had no idea how he was going to pull off an entire day’s worth of deliveries without messing something up along the way. Namjoon putting his foot down was truly a blessing in disguise.

“I should give Yoongi an earful for getting you sick like this.”

Namjoon’s words pull Jimin back to earth and when he turns to look at him, the man is smiling. “That bastard.” It’s a joke, that much Jimin can tell, but it still makes him blush anyway.

Visiting Yoongi had been a whirlwind. Whatever apprehension Yoongi may’ve initially felt upon Jimin’s impromptu arrival vanished as soon as they had started eating. They fell into the warmth of each other’s company effortlessly, and the “short visit” quickly became anything but. Still, Jimin made sure not to overstay his welcome — Yoongi needed rest. He tidied up their mess before leaving, ignoring Yoongi’s objections about doing so along the way, and headed for the door. Yoongi walked with him, and after a brief moment of goodbyes, the blonde leaned in to press a quick kiss to Jimin’s lips. Upon pulling away, Jimin could tell Yoongi was just as surprised by his actions as he was. It had been spontaneous, unexpected, and strangely…felt so right. They both laughed — nervous and giddy like school children — before Jimin finally made his way out after a second round of goodbyes.

If Jimin was unsure whether he would catch Yoongi’s cold before, then he certainly wasn’t afterwards. The kiss was the final nail in the coffin, and sure enough, it only took a few days for Jimin to wind up in the exact same boat.

“...Have you still not heard from him?” Namjoon asks. Jimin realizes his silence must have been a dead giveaway. He shakes his head.

“Mm, no. Not since I went over.”

He’s not sure why, but Namjoon’s comment smarts a little. Jimin almost wishes he had kept the evening to himself, but he had been excited, and spilled the details to Namjoon the following day. Now, with a lack of communication from Yoongi’s end, Jimin was left feeling a little sheepish about his own over-eagerness.

“Want me to shoot him a message?”

“Absolutely not.” Jimin whips his head in the other’s direction and responds so quickly that his voice cracks. “Namjoon, do not.”

Namjoon shrugs, raising his hands up in defeat.

“I was mostly kidding.” He snickers. “Mostly. Anyway Jimin, come on. Let’s get you home.”

Jimin would never admit it to Namjoon, but taking the day off had definitely been the right move. His symptoms had only worsened as the night went on, and by the next morning, his fever had increased enough to leave him feeling slightly delirious. It took as much energy to get himself out of bed for coffee that morning as it did to plan flora for an entire wedding. Or at least it felt that way. Maybe he was being dramatic. He blames the fever.

After throwing on his favourite fuzzy robe, Jimin plops himself onto his couch, mug of coffee in one hand and a box of tissues in the other. He lets out a sigh, but even that sounds congested, and it makes his soft palette sting.

Sniffling thickly, the florist pulls out his phone to check for any texts from Namjoon. At least that’s what he tells himself. It is partially true — he is a little nervous about his friend’s first time making deliveries — but he mostly was hoping for a text from Yoongi, to which there were none. He frowns and sets his phone down, realizing quickly that there’s no use making himself feel worse. He tries to push the kiss far out of his foggy mind, and instead chooses to flick on his television in an attempt to drown out his own yearnings with a bad daytime soap opera.

The television makes his head pound, but he doesn’t turn it off. It keeps his mind from wandering to other things, and he drums his fingers against his coffee mug in time with the program’s theme song. He watches for a few minutes, grateful for the distraction, when the steam from his coffee begins to loosen the congestion in his nose just enough. Scrunching his nose up in discomfort as the feeling builds, Jimin is quick to set down his mug in favour of a tissue that he yanks from the box.

“uH’TSHh’iuew!” He pitches down roughly into it, rises back up, and then snaps down again with a second. “IISHhh’hiuu!”

The feeling of his robe jostling against his sensetive skin makes him cringe, and an uncomfortable shiver shoots down his spine as he attempts to blow the itch from his nose.

He’s just about to turn his attention back to the television when his doorbell rings. The shrill sound makes his head throb so harshly that he whimpers, and before he can get a grip of the situation, it rings again.

“Coming!” He calls out in the hopes that whoever’s outside hears him enough to not ring the bell again. Hearing how awful his own voice sounds makes him wince, the heavy huskiness being so far from his usual airy, sing-song like tone.

He hurries to the door, tightening his robe around himself before pulling it open. Standing there is a man he doesn’t recognize, and in his hands rests a large, beautiful bouquet of bright yellow daffodils.

“Park Jimin?”

Jimin nearly jumps at the sound of his name before he nods in confirmation, completely dumfounded.

“Delivery.”

He nods again, mouth agape, and accepts the bouquet graciously.

“This came with it, too.” Instructs the man as he passes over a yellow envelope before tipping his hat and turning to leave.

Jimin pushes his door closed with his hip and leans his weight against it, staring bright eyed at the arrangement clutched in his hands. Despite his stuffy nose, the smell of the bouquet is strong, and it makes him smile as his mind fills with thoughts of his shop.

After allowing himself a moment of admiration, Jimin quickly scurries into his kitchen and grabs a vase. He’s eager to have his hands free so he can read the corresponding letter and get to the bottom of the mysterious delivery.

With the flowers now appropriately situated in the middle of his kitchen table, Jimin plops himself down with a sniffle and tears into the envelope. He pulls out a card that’s garnished with yellow flowers and big, cursive lettering that reads ‘Get Well Soon’ across the front. He can’t help but smile as his mind wanders to Namjoon — the only one who knew he was sick — and how sweet of a gesture this was.

He opens the card expecting his friend’s messy handwriting and is instead met with a folded piece of drawing paper and note written in bright blue ink. His heart skips a beat.

It was from Yoongi.

Jimin,

Sorry you haven’t heard from me sooner. I'm really struggling to shake this cold — I want to be healthy first before I ask you out on a date, haha.

But anyway, a little birdie told me that you’re not feeling very well. (That same little birdie was very willing to give me your address. Two can play at this game, you know.)

I can't stop myself from feeling partially responsible for the state you’re in. I guess that’s what you get for showing up at a plague victim’s apartment, though, yeah? I mean, I don’t want to say I told you so, but…

I told you so.

-Yoongi

p.s. — I would’ve dropped these off myself, but...didn’t think aggravating my allergies on top of this god awful cold would’ve been my best idea. Sorry for supporting your competition but for some reason my favourite flower shop was closed. What else was I supposed to do? Get well soon. xx

Jimin reads the note a second time, and then a third, before bringing it tightly to his chest. His mind races, and everything feels almost like a fever dream. He nearly thinks he should pinch himself. Instead however, he sets the note down and begins to unfold the drawing paper. Inside is a beautifully coloured drawing of sunflowers. Jimin instantly recognizes it as the same drawing he had seen half-finished in Yoongi’s sketchbook a few days prior. He can hardly contain the smile that overtakes his face as he squeezes the drawing to his chest in a similar way to the note.

Min Yoongi was full of surprises, this much was now obvious, and Jimin can’t stop himself from feeling silly for having been so worried.

With his head swimming and heart racing, the florist makes his way back into his living room and scoops up his phone.

Yoongi, he types with a playful smile, why didn’t you just text me?

#making these moodboard is so fun to do as their story progresses #like now that y'all know yoongi has tattoos i get to include fun tattoo edits!#i really hope you guys like this au because I definitely think I'm going to continue it as time goes on #i have a lot of fun laying their story out #who knows maybe i'll even include some backstory from when joon and yoongi bartended together?#anyway i'm getting ahead of myself #i hope you like this one!!!#mine #bts sickfic #bts au #sick!jimin #yoonmin #bts whump #oops i meant moodboards not moodboard but there's no way in hell i'm deleting all of these takes to fix it don't hate me #ps daffodils stand for new beginnings so enjoy that tidbit of information if you've managed to read all of these tags lol #tags not takes i hate it here lol #bts snzfic #bts snz

54 notes · View notes

iamvegorott · 4 years

Text

Salt Of The Sea Ch. 19

Foresight

“Go ahead and prepare the ship, I’m going to visit…a friend of ours,” Dark said to Wilford after stepping out of Celine and Damian’s house.

“I was hoping you’d visit him,” Wilford said with a chuckle. “Alright, boys, let’s get the crew and find our fish.” Wilford laughed as he lead CJ and RJ away.

“Don’t call them...whatever.” Dark sighed and started walking the other way. “Good morning, Ms. Applegate.”

“Morning, dear.” Ms. Applegate gave Dark a bright smile. “How have we been?”

“I’ve been good.”

“Oh, Dark, you know you can’t lie to me. You’re troubled, I can tell.” Ms. Applegate went up to Dark and placed a hand on the pendent of his necklace. “You’re seeing him today, right?”

“Yes. I have some questions.” Dark said. “I don’t really believe but-”

“Again with the lying.” Ms. Applegate giggled. “Make sure you do what’s best for you, Dark, don’t let others get in the way.”

“Maybe I should be paying you instead of him,” Dark said.

“I make jewelry dear, nothing more.” Ms. Applegate gave Dark’s chest a pat before moving away.

“I’m sure Celine says the same.” Dark hummed before continuing on.

“Was there a festival or holiday or something yesterday?” Dark overheard a merchant say.

“Why are you asking?” Another merchant said.

“There were fellas walkin’ around covered in paint. Little drawings on ‘em.”

“That’s strange, maybe we missed something.” Dark waited and watched until the two changed the subject and were now discussing prices. Dark was thankful he didn’t have to step in, he didn’t need to waste any more time. Dark went up to a large, tan-colored tent. A teenage girl was sitting at a little homemade desk, perking up when she saw Dark.

“Perfect timing Dark.” The teenager giggled. “He currently doesn’t have clients in there. But I bet you already knew dad would have that planned.”

“Thank you, Annalise,” Dark said. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“Quick? Take your time, why does everyone always want to rush things?” Annalise propped her feet up and started filing her nails. “Nothing wrong with being sure.”

“Not at all.” Dark slipped into the tent.

“Hello, Dark.” The greeting came from a man with a blindfold over his eyes, and an almost black coat, three-sizes too large, shrouded his body’s form as he sat at a small circular table.

“Hello, Host.” Dark greeted back. “I assumed you were expecting me?”

“Your energy is strong and it has grown.” Host’s face was towards a crystal ball, hands resting on it and moving ever so slightly as he spoke.

“It’s grown?” Dark went to the chair on the other side and sat.

“Grown or changed.” Host said. “Something new is happening in your life and it’s affected you deeply.”

“It’s causing me annoyance.” Dark adjusted himself so that he was comfortable, slouching even.

“Then why keep the change? You’re not one to let a burden stay in your life, not after the ones you’ve already had.”

“Gold.”

“Gold?” Host repeated with a chuckle. “If that’s the tale you want to tell.” Host lowered his hands from the ball and crossed them on the table. “Do you wish to go through your usual checklist?”

“Always to the point, but, yes, how’s Wilford?”

“His energy has grown as well, similar to how it’s been two times before. Is his new addition part of the burden on you?”

“Is he happy?”

“His energy is positive.”

“Then it’s not.” Dark chewed on his lip for a moment, hesitating and knowing that Host wouldn’t continue without the question. “How is the other?”

“He’s alive.” Host said in a flat tone.

“Of course he is.” Dark sighed.

“He’s alive and his energy grows with curiosity and grows near as well.” Host’s hands went back to his crystal ball. “But first you need to deal with a new energy that will be joining you all soon.”

“Again?” Dark groaned. “Any tell on who or at least what they are?”

“All I can see is that the energy is similar to the new happenings of your life.” Host’s brows scrunched. “It’s more inclined towards the new happenings. It’ll affect them more than you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can not tell, I’m sorry.”

“Any guess on when?”

“Very soon, very very soon. You need to get to the ship. You need to go now. I am trying to look beyond but it’s fighting back.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Dark stood up and placed his hands over Host’s. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” Host allowed Dark to move his hands away from the crystal ball.

“Don’t apologize, you always do more than expected.”

“You should go. Tell me daughter I need rest.”

“Of course, I’ll see you again Host and hopefully it won’t be as long of a break and I’ll get to stay longer.”

“I look forward to your visit.”

“Goodbye.” Dark tapped the top of Host’s hands twice before leaving the tent, waving down Annalise. “Host needs rest.”

“Did you make him push himself again?” Annalise asked, shoulders going tense and looking ready to fight.

“He’s fine, I promise. I’m just relaying the message.” Dark held his hands up and moved away, hearing Annalise going to the tent and scolding her father. Dark went towards the ship, flashing Ms. Applegate a quick smile as he passed and was soon stopped by an, out of breath, Bim.

“We gotta...we gotta...the ship…”

“Let’s go then.” Dark took off first. Bim groaned and took a few quick breaths before taking off as well.

“Dark! There you are!” Wilford called from the top of the ship. “We have an emergency!”

“Who’s hurt?” Dark asked, boarding the ship with Bim.

“None of us but-”

“It’s Mad,” Google said, coming out from the navigation room.

“What about him?” Dark asked, seeing that the others were getting the ship ready to sail.

“He sent us a message.” Google glanced over his shoulder and saw Bing coming out of the room as well.

“We need to get there as soon as we can, he says it’s getting worse,” Bing said.

“What’s getting worse?” Dark snapped his fingers to get everyone to look at him.

“Mad said they found a Siren trapped in one of his fishnets,” Google said.

“Okay? And that affects us because?”

“He says he looks like one of our Sirens and speaking of them, they already left without us.”

“They left?” Dark scoffed, ignoring the strange pang in the pit of his stomach at hearing the Sirens having abandoned them.

“We’re going to follow them, right?”

“I don’t-”

“Aren’t you the one that said you wanted Mad on our side?” Bing’s sudden interruption threw everyone off. “Mad needs help and if we ignore him, he’ll never help us again. He’s the one that gave us this communication and this map, we owe him.”

“Fine. We’ll go.” Dark pointed at Bing. “And if you speak to me like that again, you’ll be sleeping below deck.”

“Yes, Captain.” Bing saluted before going back inside.

“As soon as the ship is ready, set sail,” Dark called out his order as he went up to the second floor.

“Yes, Captain!” The crew called back.

“A new energy similar to the new happenings…” Dark said to himself as he watched the others below. “I hope they’re at least helpful.”

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

Tag List: (let me know if you want added)

@takethepainawaybae @shadowkitten0321 @adverseflyer909 @constantgaycrisis @m0th-goo @rainymae523 @rukus-kiss-my-lips-platonically @robot-intestines @phonenix @vociferous-chaos @batsam19 @bapbee @walking-mess25 @voonespelle @madallice329 @grnpurplgrmln @graveyardlettuce @aoimatsurika @nightwillow18 @the-writing-from-space-world @teenwithaphone @hakuna-matata-666-13 @a-star-with-a-human-name

#danti #salt of the sea #siren tales trilogy #we gonna be seeing a hero next chapter >.>#and we got to see Host!!!

24 notes · View notes