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aurathian · 1 year

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HyMart | AO3

for @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023, prompt: free day! thanks @jimmyjims for inspiring me to write supermarket au zelink this was therapeutic and like i was reliving trauma at the same time. no totk spoilers here!

Fandom: Skyward Sword (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Summary: Link deals with a rude customer and possibly meets the love of his life in his place of work: HyMart.

Link often hears the beeping and buzzing of cash registers in his dreams: swipe, beep… swipe, beep… swipe, beep, err…! An error… and oftentimes those same sounds morph into the blare of his alarm clock. Above him, the fluorescent lights from what had been a supermarket ceiling slowly become filtered sunshine as he opens his eyes.

That’s exactly what woke him up that hot July morning. His dreams soon became reality when he found himself wearing long pants and sweating behind his register. He would wear shorts, but if he did that he would be slapped with a dress code violation. Now, he forlornly scanned items and punched in numbers for a few hours, calling over his customer service manager Ghirahim every now and then for help.

In his flashy work vest that he glued rhinestones onto himself, along with his bedazzled nametag, Ghirahim tutted at one of the customers who insisted the shirt she was buying was only five rupees. “Ma’am, if you found it on a different shelf with different items, it was misplaced. This is ten rupees.” He took this stern tone with many of the customers (which they often perceived as rude), but he was arguably one of the best customer service managers the front end had. Despite the many complaints from customers who felt he was condescending and mean, Ghirahim was never fired. Yet, anyway. Link had no problem with it, since it usually put the customers in their place once they started to get frustrated with whatever employee they chose to take their anger out on that day.

“Then I don’t want it,” the customer, a blonde woman with her hair done in pigtails, snapped. “Put it back.”

“Can you run this back, Link?” Ghirahim asked, oddly kind, and Link nodded. “Oh, and then you can go on your lunch.” This encouraged Link to scamper off even faster to deposit the shirt back on its correct shelf, marked at ten rupees, but in his haste he forgot to take off his HyMart vest. He worked his way through the maze of shelving and aisles and approached the back of the store where the giant EMPLOYEES ONLY door called his name. Beyond that was a hallway, and beyond that was the break room, where his cold sandwich packed in a plastic bag beckoned him closer…

“Excuse me?” a light voice called. Link whirled around, realizing his mistake as his hands naturally found themselves in his vest pockets. “Could you help me find something?”

His eyes landed on a blonde woman carrying a tote bag and wearing a white sundress. His mind flitted between two outcomes: “No, sorry, I’m on break,” and “Sure, what do you need?” A good employee, one that wasn’t on the verge of getting fired everyday, would say sure.

“Yeah, what do you need?” he asked, approaching her.

“Oh, I was looking for this,” the woman said, pulling up a picture on her phone and showing him. “I’m just not sure where to find it.”

“I can take you to where the Loftwing Feed is,” Link said, motioning with his hand for her to follow. He didn’t mind showing customers where to find certain things, but in this case, they needed to travel to the other side of the store. So, to lessen the journey’s awkwardness, he made conversation. “Hot outside, huh?”

“It is. Really, it’s horrible you have to wear long pants.”

“Tell me about it.” A weird silence assumed, as silent as it could be with the outdated pop songs cracking out of the overhead speakers. “So do you, um, own Loftwings?” What a stupid question! If she wasn’t standing right there, he would’ve slapped himself. Why else would she be buying Loftwing Feed?

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Two of them. A red and a blue one.”

Link deliberately slowed his pace. “What are their names?”

“The red one is Cawlin and the blue one is Strich.”

“Interesting names. I used to have one too–it was named Beedle.”

He didn’t miss the way the customer leaned a little forward to peer at his nametag with squinted eyes. Unfortunately, they were arriving at the animal feed aisle.

“Thank you for helping me, Link,” she said, a little too charming, brushing some hair over her shoulder.

“It’s no problem, uh…”

“Zelda.”

“It’s no problem, Zelda.”

That cold sandwich, soggy from sitting in the fridge, tasted a little more lonely that day. Most of his coworkers with whom he was friends were out on the floor, and of course that blonde customer probably hadn’t given him a second thought once she got her heaping bag of bird food. To his surprise, he was excited when his break was over because it meant he was a little closer to going home.

He was back on the register as usual, even though he would’ve preferred a spot down at self checkout, but didn’t complain since the constant flow of people helped pass time faster. That was until an obnoxious man with an equally obnoxious hairdo came up to his register with an overflowing cart.

Link greeted him as he normally would and began to scan as efficiently as he could, sometimes pausing to punch in the numbers for fruits or veggies. The customer didn’t say much to him–just hummed, scrolled on his phone, occasionally nodded at a question. Link found it a little rude but kept on with his job hoping he could quickly finish the customer’s transaction. Everything had been going smoothly; groceries were neatly in bags, all the items were scanned correctly and there had been no system errors.

Then the man pulled out a stack of coupons.

“You want me to use these?” Link asked, picking up the stack. The customer nodded and raised an eyebrow. Link began to scan them, but each one brought up a few dollar signs on the terminal, signifying that they weren’t working, so he inspected them closer.

They expired last year.

“Sir, unfortunately these coupons aren’t working because–”

“They should work.” Ah, so he does speak. “I made sure it’s for all the right items. You can look yourself.” He pointed at the mountain of bags.

Link repeated himself after heaving a sigh to maintain his composure. “They aren’t working because they’re expired. These expired last year, sir.”

The customer dramatically exhaled and fumbled around his pocket, fishing out his wallet and picking through it exaggeratedly. He slammed a card on the ledge by the card reader and then pulled out another one.

“Okay, fine, if you won’t take my coupons, can I at least use this?” The red-haired man shoved a blue card into Link’s face. The words on it read Zora Juice. He could hardly believe his eyes–this was a gift card for a smoothie store. This man, this customer, was standing in the middle of a HyMart trying to pay for his groceries with a smoothie store gift card.

“Um, sir, this is for Zora Juice,” Link informed him after spending a moment mustering up the courage to do so.

“Yes.”

“Okay… this is a HyMart.”

“Yeah, I know.” The customer ran his hand over his bright red pompadour.

“This is a different store. You can’t use this gift card here.”

There was a pause as the air in the store stilled and time screeched to a halt. The customer–whose name was Groose, based on the debit card he put on the ledge–seemed to be going through the five stages of grief with the way his face contorted into twenty different expressions all at once. Then, he exploded.

Groose snapped at him, asking why he couldn’t properly do his job, saying this is why kids need to stay in school, that Link was an incompetent cashier, all other kinds of insults under the HyMart ceiling. Link glanced nervously over to the customer service desk where Ghirahim was dealing with a rush and clearly frazzled, the way he waved his hands about and the faces he was making. There’d be no way to get him over for help, so Link braced himself for the worst.

The customer was about to turn as red as his hair when suddenly, a finger in his face cut him off.

“And just who do you think you are?”

“I– uh–”

Link could hardly contain his shock when he saw Loftwing Feed woman, in her sundress and holding her tote bag, pointing a finger directly in Groose’s face.

“It’s not his fault those coupons or that card doesn’t work. Why do you insist on bothering him?”

“I suppose…”

“Suppose what?”

Groose stared at her for a few moments and the cashier, now awkwardly caught in the middle, didn’t miss the way his entire body softened for just a moment. But then Groose shook his head, swiped his debit card, and left with his groceries in a huff.

The woman–Zelda, that’s her name–stepped up to the register as Link began to scan her items, bringing himself down from the nerves and excitement of that encounter. Rude customers always had him a little shaky, but it was different this time having someone to support him.

“Um, thank you,” he finally said after a few moments of silence, poked with buzzes and beeps.

“It’s no problem. I used to work in a supermarket, too.” Her eyes darted around nervously, tapping her foot. “Say, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but do you like coffee?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me up in the mornings,” Link joked, typing in some numbers on his terminal. “Why?”

“I was wondering if you would be interested in getting a coffee with me sometime.”

If Link did not have customer service training, he would’ve jumped for joy and said yes immediately, but he kept himself composed, used his hand scanner on her Loftwing Feed, and then answered.

“Sure.”

“Great, sounds good.”

Link handed her the receipt, but she instead pulled a pen from her bag, wrote some numbers on it, and handed it back to him. Her phone number.

“You might need this on your way out–”

“It’s okay!” she said, already walking off with her cartload of items, Loftwing Feed neatly tucked into the bottom. Thankfully, he watched her walk out of the doors without being stopped by one of the greeters, but his trance was broken by a customer waving in his face.

“Hello? Young man?”

Link turned to the customer with a sigh. Until that coffee date, his life would simply be the buzzes and beeps of the register.

#zelink week #zelink week 2023 #zelink #zelda #link #groose #skyward sword #modern au #supermarket au #grocery store au #free day #ghirahim #my writing

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in-a-nook-with-a-notebook · 1 year

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Your Hand Is Cold | Anything For You

Masterlist

Franchise: Percy Jackson

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Nick Oliver (original character, pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: swearing, a little violence, mentions of a few minor injuries

Series Summary: Nick Oliver was on track to figure out his life after high school. One day in a bookstore, and suddenly, post-high school plans were the farthest thing from his mind. One day in a bookstore, he met Luke Castellan.

Chapter Summary: Nick went to a bookstore. Nick just wanted a book. Nick did not, in fact, leave with a book. He left with a card for some camp, and a promise.

A/N: Here's a sample/first look/first chapter of Anything For You! This is also technically the first draft and I upload inconsistently right now because I'm beating off my writer's block with a stick. The following Picrew is how I imagine Nick to look in the beginning, and here's the link to the one I used! Enjoy!

Nick wanders somewhat aimlessly around a used bookstore in Brooklyn Heights. He hasn’t visited this one before. It’s probably the biggest one he’s ever been to, floor to ceiling shelves and countless aisles. There’s a little café in the back with drinks named after famous books – like The Great Gatsby and Little Women – and music plays softly from speakers in the high ceilings. The whole place (excluding the coffee smell of the café) smells like old books, which is the best smell, in Nick’s opinion. He feels drawn towards a certain part of the store and before he knows it, his feet are carrying him down an aisle full of mythology books.

At the other end of the aisle is a boy that looks to be around Nick’s age, so about college age, with short-cropped, sandy blond hair. He’s wearing jeans and an orange t-shirt. A leather necklace with five beads on it rests around his neck. The boy must have sensed Nick staring at him and he looks over. What surprises Nick the most is the deep and pale scar that runs from the bottom of the boy’s eye all the way to his chin. Nick forces his gaze off the stranger and the two of them continue browsing the shelves.

If either of them are thinking about how they keep getting closer to each other, they don’t show it. While Nick’s finger runs along the spines, the other boy’s eyes scan the books, clearly looking for something in particular. Then, while Nick’s touch lingers on a book about the Greek gods known as the Olympians, the other boy reaches for the same book. His hand grazes Nick’s and he pulls away like he’s been shocked.

“Sorry,” the boy mumbles. “Your hand is really cold.”

“Yeah, they usually are,” Nick replies, flexing his fingers. “No matter what I do, they’re always like ice. Uh, I’m Nick, by the way. Nick Oliver.”

“Luke Castellan,” the blond says.

“Nice to meet you, Luke,” Nick says softly. He pauses, then clears his throat. “So, um, the Olympians, huh? You into Greek mythology?”

“Kinda have to be, with the family I have,” Luke answers tiredly, taking the book off the shelf once Nick moves his hand.

“What kind of family would that be?”

“The Greek kind.”

“You speak very good English for a Greek person.”

“I’m American,” Luke murmurs, flipping to the table of contents.

“You just said Greek, though.”

Luke looks up, his eyes sweeping from Nick’s reddish-brown hair to his black Converse with Dia de Los Muertos style sugar skulls painted on them. His blue eyes meet Nick’s green ones, and he speaks in Ancient Greek.

“Eímai lígo kai apó ta dýo, pragmatiká.”

Nick isn’t sure how he knew that Luke spoke in Ancient Greek. He’s even less sure of how he understood that Luke had said, I’m a bit of both, really. He stares blankly at him.

“This’ll be really awkward if you don’t know what I said,” Luke remarks.

“No, no, I understood, but… how?”

“I took a chance.”

“Based on what, exactly?” Nick asks skeptically. Luke gestures to Nick’s shoes, as though that’s an answer. Seeing that Nick was still confused, Luke rubs the back of his neck.

“So you’re interested in the Greek side of things, too, huh?” Luke inquires.

“I mean…” Nick hesitates, thinking. “I’ve always been interested in mythology as a whole, no matter the origin, but I guess I kinda felt drawn to this book, this one in particular. It was like something was pulling me towards it.”

Luke nods, studying Nick again. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Shoot, Castellan.”

Luke’s cheeks turn pink when Nick calls him by his last name. “What would you do if, somehow, the gods of Olympus were real?”

“Aren’t they?” Nick counters. Luke tilts his head and Nick continues. “The influence of gods, no matter the religion, is everywhere, isn’t it? Zeus in thunderstorms, Hestia in architecture, Dionysus in wine tastings. I mean, are they real in terms of walking among us, I could never be sure. But we keep them around.”

Luke blinks. He blinks again.

“Did I say something wrong?” Nick asks, frowning.

“No- no, you seem to say everything just right.” Luke clears his throat nervously. “Listen, uh, Nick, if I don’t get myself killed over the next few days, would you wanna… I dunno, hang out sometime?”

Nick smiles, a blush creeping up his neck. “I’d like that. Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Luke returns the grin. “Cool. Uh, how about we meet here in three days? At noon?”

“I’ll be there. Er, well, here.”

Luke laughs quietly and Nick smiles again at the sound of it. “I will be, too. But, um, if I’m not…” Luke trails off and fishes a little card out of his pocket. “Come to this address. I can guarantee that, unless I’m dead, I’ll be here.”

Nick reads the address in his head. “What, you’ll be at a camp?”

“Year round.”

Nick nods. “And, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask, Luke, what’s with the dagger?”

Luke hardly appears surprised at the question. “Protection,” he replies, glancing down at where it’s strapped to his ankle in a sheath.

Chatting about the Olympians, Nick and Luke wander back to the front of the store for Luke to buy the book. Just from talking to him, Nick deduces that Luke seems to have some sort of personal vendetta against Hermes. Nick stands with him while he pays. Just as the cashier passes Luke his change, three figures crash through the glass of the doors into the store. Luke quickly pockets the change and draws his dagger.

“Are we not gonna talk about the guy fighting with two empousai at once?” Nick asks.

“Beckendorf, what in the name of the gods-”

“Luke, would you just shut up and help me?” The guy in the fight hollers as he’s knocked to the ground. He immediately gets back up. Luke surveys the situation.

“Nick,” Luke mutters anxiously, “we could use your help, you know.”

“Who, me? Fight? With what, the damn throw rug?”

In the umbrella stand, says a voice in Nick’s mind. It’s not the weirdest thing to happen to him today, so he decides not to question it. He quickly locates the umbrella stand by the door. A black umbrella with a faint purple glow, plus a matching black cane – glow and all – catch Nick’s attention. Luke leaps into battle as the voice in Nick’ head speaks again.

Open the umbrella and twist the handle of the cane.

Nick does as suggested and the cane transforms into a black metal cutlass. The umbrella, on the other hand, becomes a rotella shield in the same material.

“Stygian iron,” one of the empousai hisses. “You’re a child of Hades.”

“I’m a child of no one, my parents died when I was two.” Nick moves into a fighting stance with no sweet clue what he’s going to do. “You got a problem? Come for me.”

————————

“Are you hurt bad?”

Nick looks up from where he’s laying on a bench outside the bookstore, clutching his cane and umbrella to his chest. Their glow has faded a little, but traces of purple are still visible here and there. There’s yellow dust caked on the bottom of his sneakers, as well as a couple cuts on his arms, his left leg, and his right cheek. Luke stands over him, his hands on his hips as he gives Nick a once-over.

“I’ll live,” Nick states reluctantly. He lowers his head to continue staring at the cloudy sky. “What the fuck just happened?”

Luke perches on the arm of the bench, fiddling with his hands. “Do you really want to know? Do you want the whole truth?”

Nick frowns, sitting up. He rests his cane and umbrella across his lap. “No. Not right now, anyway. Maybe some other time. Right now, I just wanna go home, patch myself up, and forget a few dozen things.”

Luke nods solemnly. “I understand.”

Nick pushes himself to his feet, careful of his injured leg, and turns to the blond. “I’ll meet you back here in three days?” He inquires.

Luke looks up at him, a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. “You still-” He shakes his head, grinning. “Yeah, three days, noon. Don’t be late.”

Nick smirks, tapping his new cane against Luke’s leg. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A/N: This has been a work in progress for probably over a year now and I’m only just getting to a point where I feel like I can post it. It’s simultaneously a first, second, third and fourth draft with how much I’ve adjusted it since I started, but it’s technically not finished 😭 I’ll try to upload as often as I can. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! Feedback is encouraged and appreciated! Have a lovely day!

#percy jackson #luke castellan #son of hermes #son of hades #nick oliver #anything for you #luke castellan x male oc #luke castellan x male reader #oc #original character #male oc #male original character

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scuttling · 3 years

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Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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astranva · 4 years

Text

Falling Duet

Word Count: 2.4k

Category: Fluff but it’s so 🥺

Warning: Nothing

Request: harry dating singer!reader: he has to perform at some awards and he invites her to sing with him but no one else knows? love your writing🤧❤

Summary: You and Harry sing an unreleased version of Falling at an award show.

The lyrics used are of “Falling (other POV)” by THE cutie, Ally Naso 🤍

// masterlist //

**reposted bc tumblr is messing up the tags & nobody can view it. sigh.

It all started when a friend of yours had recorded you singing in your school’s bathroom during senior year.

7 years ago, you wouldn’t have believed it if somebody told you that you would be a 13-time Grammy nominated artist, as well as having 6 of that very award sitting on your shelf at your childhood home – one for Best Artist, and one for Album of the year.

You would have laughed even.

But it wasn’t a joke nor was it a dream you wished to never wake up from; it was as real as life could be.

You were successful in the industry and if any of your fans were asked, they would say that it was because of your immense talent and unproblematic, empathetic, kind character.

It was one of the many reasons why so many people on the internet had shipped you with a certain English man, him having been only 20 when you went viral and got signed.

A year into the industry, it was one day when you remember your Twitter notifications going crazy;

“HARRY STYLES JUST SAID HE LOVES YOUR MUSIC AND THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”

“omg pls tell us you watched 1d’s interview with jimmy kimmel”

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! CAN YOU PLEASE BE TOGETHER ALREADY???”

Looking back at that memory, you remember how you were a shaking and overwhelmed mess as you had clicked on the link everybody was sending you.

The video had begun with the audience cheering as the camera was on Jimmy and the 5 men near him.

And there he sat; in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, medium-length hair looking like he had run his fingers through many times, his hands clasped as he looked at Jimmy.

“Who’s most likely to let a woman split the band?” Jimmy had asked.

They had looked at each other, not answering for a moment before Niall chimed in with a laugh as he pointed at Harry, “Harry would let his celebrity crush do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly as his bandmates agreed and laughed, slapping his hands against his thighs in feigned annoyance.

“Who is that? Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Just this talented person.” He had tried to smile his way through the question, but no one was having it.

“You know Y/N Y/L/N? She’s an amazing singer,” Louis told Jimmy.

“Y/N!” Jimmy beamed, “We had her on the show two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he watched that.” Liam had gestured towards Harry.

Hiding his face in his hands for a moment, the audience cheered as his friends continued to laugh.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jimmy asked Harry in a teasing manner.

Having had decided to get it over with, Harry nodded as he clasped his hands together again, “She’s very talented and beautiful.”

“Lovie, can you help me with the necklace? My nails are still drying.”

You looked up from your place on the couch, sitting in your long dress looking so beautiful that Harry had lost track of time of getting into his own suit because he was too busy giving you a photoshoot on his phone.

Standing up, you reached and clasped his necklace for him, dusting his shoulders to signal that you were done.

Turning, you were met with your boyfriend of 4 years beaming at you before he leaned to press his lips against yours.

“You look so good.” You smiled up at him, “So beautiful.”

“Have to try to catch up with how you look tonight,” he replied with a wide smile, “Nervous?”

“Not really.” You admitted.

Amusingly and completely and utterly in love, Harry tilted his head slightly, “Any reason why you’re not? You usually hate those.”

It was true. You didn’t really like award shows because of how tiresome all the process was; hair, makeup, dressing up, walking only to pause every second, the repeated questions you have been answering for years, how more judgmental the world was on nights like these.

But it was always when Harry was able to be by your side that you liked the night, and the tall man knew it, but he had always loved hearing you say it.

To feed his ego, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Because you’ll be there.”

“Music to my ears.” He joked, shaking his head slightly.

“Just feeding that already overfed ego of yours, baby.”

“Excuse you.” He pecked your lips, “Let me add food for Evie then we can leave.”

“I’ll do it, don’t mess up your nails.” You patted his chest before moving away to attend to your cat.

The fans and reporters all had anticipated the moment of yours and boyfriend’s arrival, and the both of you knew it.

You were fairly private with your relationship. While everyone knew you were together, the both of you didn’t always post about one another but when you did, it went viral – something you and Harry, shamelessly, enjoyed.

It was why during moments like this, everyone was eager. Reporters were hungry for content, all having different intentions, but you spend enough time in the industry and you sort of begin knowing what to say and how to say it.

Harry was scheduled to perform, something everyone knew of, but it was the fact that you were joining him not on the red carpet, but on stage that they didn’t.

Getting out of the car together, the screams and flashing lights were then doubled.

Harry closed the door behind you with a polite smile to the security standing. Bending a little, he adjusted your dress’s short train for you as you looked back at it before you looked up at him.

As if they weren’t snapping pictures like crazy yet, you reached and fixed Harry’s hair at the front, his eyes looking up with a smile as you did so.

“Thanks, love.”

With that, Harry placed his arm around your waist as you walked to the first spot on the red carpet.

“When was the last time we appeared together? They’re going mad.” You whispered, looking at Harry as he smiled to the cameras.

He chuckled, looking at you, “I think we deprive them too much.”

“Let’s give them enough content to last a year.”

Nobody but the both of you knew what you meant, and it was why the flashing lights and camera shutter sounds were then tripled the moment Harry’s lips were on yours in a soft kiss.

“Can we sign stuff?” You asked a woman standing on the sides, “Can we see the fans?”

When she nodded at you, you and Harry ignored posing for a few minutes to converse and meet fans.

“I love you and Harry so much!” One fan said shakily as you signed a paper for him.

“Thank yo- Hey! I saw you in Amsterdam last year, right?” You grinned.

And that was another thing not only your fans loved about you, but Harry, too.

You were no stranger to connections. You were no stranger to making people feel seen and treating them in a way that no fan expected to be treated – a friend, and you remember friends.

“Harry, do you think Y/N will win Songwriter of the Year?” A fan asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile, “I hope so but we all know she is anyway.” He waved his hand with a joking manner, making the closest fans laugh.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll win Artist of the Year?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “There are so many amazing artists. I wish them all the best.”

“He’s a humble man,” you teased, patting his shoulder, “We all know he is anyway.”

You were confused as they, Harry included, laughed in shock. “What?”

“He literally has just said the same thing about you.”

You laughed, looking at Harry, “Shut up, no way!”

“The both of you have been doing that for years.” One fan commented with a grin, “It’s adorable. It’s like telepathy or something.”

“Oh yeah, we are telepathic,” Harry nodded, “It gets a little scary sometimes.”

“Heeey!” You laughed, “It’s actually helpful. One of us would be just walking at home and we’d look at each other and know that the other just means something like “feed Evie” or “take out the trash””

“This is so cute!”

“Harry, what are you performing tonight?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.” He pointed.

Shortly, you and Harry had to take more pictures and do interviews before you were escorted inside.

It was the little moments that fans also lived for; how Harry held your hand as you sat so discreetly, how the both of you chatted and giggled among one another and those around you, how Harry fist-bumped the air the moment your name was called to receive your award of Songwriter of the Year before kissing you. It was how they knew this was real – how love wasn’t something you only listen people sing about or write novels for.

It was in how Harry’s eyes didn’t move from you as you gave your speech, a wide smile on his face and eyes resembling twinkling stars for crying out loud.

It was in how you ended your speech with: “This is to the man who has inspired and pushed me forward to write every single day. I love you.”

It was in how you looked more nervous than Harry himself when his category was called before you were the first to get out of your seat with a happy “yes!” once they announced that he won.

It was in how Harry cupped your face that moment to kiss you before walking to receive his award.

It was in how you remained standing, those behind you only smiling instead of being annoyed, with your hands clutched together against your heart, tearful eyes, and the brightest smile in the room.

“You’re going to tell me this is cheesy,” Harry chuckled slightly, giving a shrug as he looked at you, “But I wouldn’t be standing here, holding this, if it weren’t for you. I love you, too.”

But then Harry was about to perform and you weren’t in your seat.

The award show had decided to make a skit of it, the host being Miley had held her microphone as she stood in the empty isle beside yours and Harry’s empty seats.

“We know Harry Styles is performing in minutes,” she said, looking at the camera with a playful smile, “But where is Y/N Y/L/N? We know, we know,” she nodded, “Probably backstage for some extra good luck but-” people laughed, causing Miley to pause and chuckle, “But seriously, guys. There’s a show and it must go on.”

“It’s going on.” Harry said from backstage into his mic before the stage went dark.

It wasn’t until piano tunes sounded that the arena grew dim, a spotlight on the piano at the center of the stage where you sat, your fingers gentle against the keys as you played the beginning notes of Falling.

“I'm in my bed,

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands.” Harry sang as he came on stage, holding the mic in his hand before taking a seat beside you.

Everyone had expected him to sing the next verse, but it wasn’t his voice that they then heard.

“I'm in my bed

Instead of yours

Cried to sleep turned off all of lights and locked all of the doors.” You sang, eyes on the piano keys.

“Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes were on you, body turned slightly towards you as he felt like the both of you were in your living room in front of your white piano.

“I replay what you said

Don’t know if it’s true

Left with two broken hearts and there’s nothing that we could undo.” You sang, closing your eyes as you got ready for the chorus.

“What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What am I now? What am I now?

Don’t want to cry ‘cause I can’t stand the sound

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

The both of you sang together, your voice being softer and quieter than Harry’s.

“What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if you’re someone I can’t live without?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

It was a version nobody had heard before, and it was why everyone was quiet, the only sound coming from you, Harry, and your lone instrument.

It was something you had written together following a rough patch of your relationship, and everyone knew that it was more personal with the way the both of you sang.

When his eyes weren’t closed, Harry sang as he looked at you, and he knew that performing this song meant more to the both of you than anyone could imagine. One look at your face and Harry knew you were reliving the night of when the both of you had written this; eyes a little red from crying, bodies hot, Harry wearing a hoodie of yours while you sat in your underwear with his purple fluffy robe on.

“Can I do this alone without ever needing you again?”

“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”

You both sang the bridge together, yours being shorter than Harry’s note as you carried a softer tone, closing your eyes as you played the piano, feeling your throat close up before gulping.

He knew.

It was why the final chorus was sung softer and quieter, Harry’s forehead resting against your temple for a moment as the both of you sang.

“I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry finished, putting his mic down as he stared at you with a small smile, watching you in your element as you played.

Managing to look at him as you played single soft notes, you sang, “I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

You played the end single notes, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and a bashful smile.

It was like you were unaware to the erupted cheer and round of applause, you threw your arms around Harry, feeling his arms wrap around you instantly.

Crying from the overwhelming emotions, you were thankful your mascara was waterproof. You called it.

“I love you,” Harry whispered in your ear, “I love you so much.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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airplanned · 3 years

Text

All the Trashy Novels Part 15

Part 1...Part 14

They’re both filthy.

***

Clearly, Link felt some kind of way about Zelda. Mostly lust, she suspected. Probably because he spent so much time in her presence and rarely interacted with other people, so he'd mistaken physical proximity for intimacy. Or perhaps because he hated her just as she hated him, and had mistaken that hate for lust. She could admit that that was easy to do.

But clearly, him thinking he felt any kind of affection for her was absurd. She was far too cruel to him to deserve devotion, so he must be deluded.

Or messing with her. Was he messing with her? No, Link wasn't devious enough for that.

It occurred to her that this was perfect. She could go to her father and announce that Link was in love with her and needed to be transferred far away immediately.

It also occurred to her that she should set firm boundaries for the short time that he would remain her personal guard. His familiarity was inappropriate. His feelings for her were only going to hurt him in the long run (not that she cared). She was not going to sleep with him. And, yes, perhaps it was a tiny bit her fault for kissing him and she did regret it, and she would change her behavior accordingly.

She had a plan. A good plan. She would talk to her father about Link and then talk to Link about her father's decision to send him away. She would talk to them both. Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow sounded good.

With her mind made, up, she headed to the library with a spring in her step. Her life was back on track. There would be no more piercing looks that made her flush and no more familiar remarks, and there would be no kissing in the library's aisles between the books as he pulled her close at the waist and they tried not to put too much weight against the bookshelves. He would not pull her into his lap in one of the library arm chairs and quietly read to her while gently stroking her hair, her nose tucked against his neck.

She decided to hide on one of the high windowsills.

She rolled one of the ladders to the far edge of the shelf, tucked her journal and one of the books Purah had loaned her under her arm, and climbed. At the top of the ladder, she was even with the high window, and it was an easy matter to step onto the wide sill and scoot towards the glass until she wasn't visible from the ground below. Not that anyone ever looked up. The only slightly worrisome part about her hiding spot was the rare occasion when someone would roll the ladder away to reach something further down the shelf and she would have to drop to the ground on her own or wait for Link to bring the ladder back. Usually Link brought the ladder back.

She lost herself in her research, ignoring the shuffling of librarians below, until there was a creak below her and someone climbed the ladder.

When his face was even with hers, Link offered her a small smile. Her stomach sunk. He wouldn't have done that a month ago.

"Should I bring you lunch?" he whispered.

"No."

She went back to her work, hoping he'd leave.

"There are sweet buns," he said.

She paused. She loved sweet buns. And Link knew she loved sweet buns, damn him.

When she lifted her head to glare at him, his eyes sparkled.

"Fine," she snapped. "If you must."

"I must. I saw the cooks making them earlier. They have that glaze you like drizzled all over the top." He leaned closer. "You're going to pop one in your mouth and go mmmmmm."

"Is that a crude double entendre?"

"It wasn't meant to be." He leaned closer. "What would it be implying?"

She leaned over him, forcing him to arch his neck to keep eye contact. "You're the one fantasizing about me getting sticky drizzle in my mouth while moaning."

"I would never fantasize about such a thing," he said. "Not with the way you keep biting me."

She snarled. "And I'll keep biting you."

"Promise?"

She covered his face with a hand and shoved him, nearly causing him to lose his balance before he righted himself and gave her an absolutely smitten look.

"Zelda!"

Her head snapped up to see her father at the end of the aisle, flanked by three guards. Her blood went cold under the heat of his glare.

"My office. Now." With one final glare at Link, he turned and marched away.

For the first time, she heard Link swear.

***

Part 16

#All the Trashy Novels #My fic #Zelda

133 notes · View notes

someonewhowannadielol · 4 years

Text

My name is 01001010 01001011 (Alien!Jungkook! x Human!Reader)

Summary: “So you’re a human?” The alien that looked and acted like a human asked. The only difference between him and you was that he had two upside down triangles starting from his jaw going down under his shirt. Also, he was huge. “I’m talking 8 foot tall” huge.

Warning: Daddy kink, Dirty talk, size kink, cunt slapping, Jungkook being rlly big, fingering, nipple sucking (?), Dom/sub themes, and Jungkook being a curious alien.

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

COVID-19 vs Human kind. Human kind was pretty much fucked. In front of your eyes, the world population went from a staggering 8 billion people to an exponentially low 1 million. Within two years. It was in October 2020, when scientist realized that instead of working on a vaccine, they needed to discover a place where those free from this deadly disease could live. Safely and peacefully.

Then, the people of Jubal, stepped in, and it was pure chaos. You still remember the day, 14thof December 2020. Everywhere; social media platforms, billboards, NASA’s speech, everything revolved around the message they sent us. They wanted to help us. Surprisingly, we knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about us. From our appearance to our food, cultures, languages, and what not. It low key creeped you out, not going to lie.

Nonetheless, we began building the transport link through their help and finally, one year later (pretty much the brink of our extinction), we were on our way to a new life.

Honestly, you had imagined them to look like- or well, to not look like how they looked. You’d expected Pokémons, or weird looking octopus, or even insects. But they looked just like you, expect they were way bigger in size.

After half a month or so, you had started to get used to the atmosphere. Almost similar to Earth, there were two sides to this planet, a much hotter plane, where the temperature never went below 104 Fahrenheit. You remember going there when you first arrived here, and oh god, you hated it. The temperature was too high for you; they didn’t know what ice cream was (how can they not know! You thought they knew everything, yet they’re unaware about one of the most popular desserts on Earth), you absolutely hated sweating and no amount of air conditioning could stop it, and the beach just looked out of place. The sand wasn’t the usual pale brown shade, instead it was just the color of the ocean itself – it adapted to the shade of the flowing water into a green-blue hue. Weird. Also, there was one sun in the morning, and three in the evening, gradually coming as the hours passed by.

You had also noticed that all of them ate food at the same temperature. Nothing was cold like ice, or hot like a fresh pizza. The concept was new to them, and when you asked for the water to be cold at the first restaurant you went to – the waiter just looked lost. The poor soul, he was told to make the humans feel at home, so when he realized he couldn’t do what you asked to, you just felt really bad. Still, it was funny that a seven-foot tall man was scared of you being uncomfortable. It was cute, honestly.

Also, almost similar to Earth, the two places had different types of Jubals living there. The sunny side had more tan skinned people, with bright, blond hair and bright eyes. Whereas, the cold plane Jubals had fairer skin, darker hair and doe eyes. The one similarity being – they were huge as fuck. The average height was around seven foot for men, and around six foot for females. So, standing at a 5 foot 2 inches (almost three inches I swear!), you felt tiny (and intimidated sometimes, but you weren’t going to admit that.

After finalizing that you definitely didn’t want to live in the hotter part of the planet, you moved to Corellia, it was cold there but not in the way you expected it to be. In the morning, it was perfectly fine, the cold breeze was nothing short of comfortable, but as the evening came, it started to get cold to the point where you couldn’t bear to go outside after 6 PM. Sometimes, you think you might have underestimated the cold here at night, because the two beautiful moons brought such intense cold that you wouldn’t dare go out at night. They gifted you a cozy one bed apartment with a really good heating system, which you appreciated. Also, you had never been so glad that you brought the microwave from Earth, without it, you didn’t know what you would do.

Ever since you moved, you had pretty much been lonely, because of the lack of contact with humans. Most of them preferred to live in the hotter state, wanting to get tanned - and to fuck the surfer Jubal hotties. You still remember parting with your sister and her ranting about this Jubal she met who was so “dreamy” and “good at surfing”.

As usual, you were just trying to get used to the food here, thankfully, they had a smaller section of “human,” food that mostly consisted of cup noodles, vegetables, chicken and chocolates. Getting groceries was intimidating at first (honestly, it kind of still is), because everyone and everything was so large, and everyone just kept staring at you. You still haven’t interacted with a Jubal on your own, it’s not like you were scared – you were – but also you didn’t really know how to go up to one. Until now, the only two Jubals you’ve met were the grocery store cashier and the landlord. Sigh.

You were so happy when you saw the new addition of real, organic milk in the grocery aisle! Thank god you got a break from that horrid almond milk. It was just water pretending to be milk honestly, and whenever you poured it in your cereal, it felt like drowning them in water, yuck. But, as much as you could try, you just would not reach the goddamn shelf. Why did these Jubals have to be so tall! Why couldn’t they just make this aisle according to human size!

You heard someone shuffle behind, but paid no heed until you heard laughter burst and immediately looked back to see one of them laughing so hard, his body shook.

“You- you’re so tiny!” He barely managed to get that sentence out of him, since he couldn’t stop his outburst.

Of course, you were offended.

“I’m actually not! You all are way too big!” You didn’t really know how to respond, because this was just so sudden.

“Hm, I don’t think so, you’re smaller than average earthlings. But it’s okay, because it’s adorable,” so, you were really surprised when you felt him behind you, reach up to the milk shelf and grab a container of it. Of course, being the dumb idiot you were, you suddenly turned around and had to face him again. You hadn’t noticed his physical features before, but now that you did. Holy shit.

He was tall (I know, it’s obvious by now), and had such, clear, fair skin. Two upside down triangles were on each side of his jaw and went down, disappearing under his coat. He looked at you with such doe, curious eyes, almost as if he was entertained by your mere presence.

“Here you go,” he handed you the container of milk – while still being really close (not that you minded it). Despite the irritatingly bright fluorescent store lighting, his hair shined, and looked so soft.

And after that, he just followed you around the store, and you honestly didn’t really know what to do.

“You know, I’ve been trying to find a human since a month now, but I’ve heard most of them moved to the Southern part. You should’ve done that too, because Corellia is too cold for you. You’re a little slow,”

And you’re a little piece of shit.

“But now I found you. You’re really adorable, the books didn’t tell me that. Ever since humankind moved here, I’ve been really studying Earth. Did you guys really had pink leaved trees? And forests? It must be so cool for so many trees to be in one place. I also really want to meet a lion,”

“You can’t just meet a lion,” you chuckled, he was weird, but somehow, it wasn��t awkward around him. He radiated this warm energy that you hadn’t seen in the Jubal people around you, and it was comforting, made you want to stay by his side – even if it meant answering his dumb questions.

“I can, you can’t. It would eat you, because you’re bite sized for it,” he continued to comment on your petite stature, and the worst part is that you couldn’t even defend yourself, especially when he kept towering over you.

“Hey! Stop making fun of me,” you tried to push him but the basket was too heavy for you, so you ended up just… awkwardly not being able to do it. Suddenly his – huge – hand swoops in and carries the heavy grocery basket as if it was nothing.

“You should’ve told me it was too heavy for you,” he sounded almost as if he was scolding you, and coo-ing at you at the same time. His eyebrows bunched up in frustration as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘how can I protect you if you won’t tell me what you need,’ but you couldn’t really make out what he said.

You were just pulled out of your thoughts when you heard him put something in your basket. Something that the Jubals ate, not humans.

Should I ask him to leave? No, that’s way too rude. Then, should I ask him why he’s following me?

“This is delicious, you should try it,” He spoke while continuing to look around the store, and put random items in your basket. There was a variation of their fruits (this one had a gradient of yellow and orange, with huge spikes coming out from the top), cans with God-knows-what inside (the one he put in your basket had cherry colored pentagons on it, and a juice bottle that contained neon green juice. You were not looking forward to drinking that.

“I don’t even know how to make all of this. What if I can’t eat it?” You were scared of most of these food items, you got sick easily, and didn’t know how to cope if you fell sick here. Without the medicines, you’d probably die.

“I’ll cook it for you if you want to,” He looked at you and smiled, “I know humans are fragile, so don’t worry, I made sure to get the ones which would be safe for you,” he said, while petting your hair, and smiling. You instantly fell in love with it, it wasn’t like the way he laughed at you earlier, but somehow, it was far more beautiful. His eyes crunched up into half-moons, cheeks being bunched up, he almost looked like the small bunny you had as a pet when you were younger. So. Cute.

“But I don’t even know your name, why would you do this for me?” You really were curious, why was a Jubal so interested in humans? So far, most of them have just maintained a distance from you.

“Because I want to keep you,” he looked at you, and the duality of his presence made you shiver. The small bunny smile morphed into a more serious face, his already dark brown eyes, turned into a slightly darker shade, giving you the chills.

“You can’t keep me,” you didn’t know how to fight this argument, you almost wanted to laugh and act as if you thought it was a joke, but you weren’t an idiot – and nor was he.

“I know, I can’t find the Earth word for it, I want to be with you, is what I mean,” he mumbled as he tried to find something in the cereal aisle.

The grocery trip was actually not as weird as you’d expect it to be. While you both didn’t know anything about each other, not even names (not that Jubals had actual names, they just talked through their minds?)

And as soon as you reached the cashier, before you could even take out your money, he nod, and paid the bill.

“Hey! I can pay for myself, you don’t have to do this!”

Honestly, you didn’t really know what to say after he said, “I’m paying, now be a good baby and stand still,” where did he even learn to speak like that?

It was starting to get cold now, and after you exited the heated mall, it was visible that you shivered every time the cold brushed up against your figure. You should’ve worn the third sweater, sigh.

“So you’re really a human?” He said, as he carried your groceries and followed you, on your way to the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,”

“How can you be a Y/N? You just said you were a human,” He asked, really confused. Were you pranking him? He learnt in (one of his many books about humans) that humans liked to prank each other for entertainment. He found the idea amusing, but right now he couldn’t decide whether you were pranking or joking.

He didn’t understand the difference between pranking and joking, either.

“I- What? No, I mean I am a human, but my name is Y/N,” you were definitely amused at his seriousness, yet you couldn’t help but be intimidated by his tall figure. Also, you felt bad that he was holding all the groceries, so you decided to grab one of the bags from him.

“Y/N!” He stopped dead in his tracks after your fingers brushed against his, “I just remembered you can’t bear the cold after 6pm, so you have to wear many clothes to protect yourself. You’re already so cold,” he felt your hand, and his was so warm and felt right, intertwined in your hand. His hand was so huge, that it enveloped yours easily, and you could really notice the size difference now.

He quickly transferred all the grocery bags into his left hand, and continued to give you his coat, and held your hand again, and it felt… nice. The fact that he smelled so good, helped too, you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but it was really comforting.

You were quite used to the stares you got on the streets from other Jubals, and always thought that they would go away, but it’s been two weeks, yet they still continue to look at you up and down, so you finally asked him. You still didn’t know his name, and didn’t know whether you should ask him or not, was it insulting?

“Why does everyone keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re so cute,”

What. It was almost like you forgot how to breathe. How could he say that all of a sudden, out of the blue? Also, you actually could not breathe, because while he had long legs that lasted for days, you had much smaller legs and it was starting to get hard to keep up.

“Hey! Could you walk-” you took in a breath, wow, your stamina was really, uh, shitty, “could you walk a little slow?”

He looked back at you, and tilted his head almost as to ask ‘why?’, but understood quickly. Then, he flashed one of his cute smiles, again, the smile that did things to your heart that you hadn’t felt before.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He also had read previously that humans can get really tired, and sometimes not even have the strength to move on. Especially females, they were more fragile, and he could physically see that too, because you were just so small. The average height was supposed to be 5’4 or even 5’6 for human females around your age, but you seemed smaller than that. But you also didn’t seem to be a child because those under the age 18 were always with their parents right? He had almost started to doubt those textbooks he bought on humans.

“No, I can walk myself,” You tried to defend yourself, and started to mentally curse as to why you asked him to slow down.

You finally reached your apartment door. Honestly, you had thought that he would stop following you after you reached the apartment building… but he just continued to bring the groceries in.

Should you invite him in? Did you even clean your living space? You probably had your underwear lying all over the place, since now you lived alone and had no fear of someone else coming in your private space.

“Can I come in?”

Well, you didn’t want to say no to him, he’s been really nice so far, and you had to admit, picking up groceries was really hard to do, and you weren’t exactly physically active enough to carry all those bags that he easily carried in one hand.

He then walked himself to the door after putting the groceries in the kitchen. What really surprised you was how he looked back at you, not how he looked before. Before, he looked with warmth, and now. Now, he almost towered at you, reminding how much power he really has over you. He looked at your lips, and then back at your eyes and tilted his head.

“W-well, it was really nice to meet you,” you said trying to break the tension and to distract yourself from the obviously gorgeous man.

“I hope to see your cute face again soon,” he smiled one of his bunny smiles again, and kissed you on the cheek before disappearing under the stairs.

You curled yourself up in your blanket, and tried to sleep, but that Jubal kept intruding your thoughts.

Would you get to see him again?

The next time you saw the cute Jubal from the grocery store was next week Saturday. On Earth, entertainment was in the form of movies, arcades and concerts. Similarly, here too, people had a theatre – instead of a movie on a projector, it was shown in 3D form, almost like a live performance, expect there were holographic figures.

You looked around, and by now you had taken into account that Jubal people weren’t afraid to show off their skin – even though it was crazy cold here, their bigger bodies could compensate by giving them more body heat. Unfortunately, your smaller stature couldn’t provide you with the same amount of heat and you always had to bundle up in three or even four layers to keep yourself from freezing or catching a cold.

You were watching a really heated up scene, and it was getting kind of… uncomfortable. While others were simply watching casually, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, you kept shuffling in your seat – so it was a pleasant surprise when you felt someone cover your eyes from behind you.

“Wha-” instinctively, you looked behind, and it was the same boy (or man?), from the grocery store.

“Hey,” again, you waved at him, almost as a form of habit, and he looked at you as if you did something quite weird. Without any questions, he tried to imitate you, but he was really stiff so you couldn’t help but let you a laugh.

“I know I didn’t introduce myself much better last time, but we don’t really have names. Still, I decided to get one for myself, because once I get a human, she should be able to call me something,”

Did he… did he mean that you were his human?

“Well, what did you settle for?”

“My name is 01001010 01001011. I thought it was really similar to the ones that humans have. Do you like it?” He asked with a proud grin, as his face lit up.

You tried to keep your laughter in, you really did but you when it did come out, you felt like wanting to die. His face crumpled up almost as if he was ashamed of his name as he increased the distance between the two of you.

Nice one, Y/N, you made the only person who cared enough for you sad.

“Hey, look, it’s a nice name, it’s just not very human-like,” you explained to him.

“It’s the binary code for a human name,”

Because of the constant conversation you both were immersed in, the Jubals beside you were starting to get annoyed – and while they didn’t say anything, probably because they didn’t want you to feel bad (you still did, for trying to ruin their experience for this live-movie thing), you decided to head out with him.

As you both walked in one of the main parks situated in the middle of Corellia state, he settled on a spot in the corner of the massive area.

“Would you like to give me a name?” he looked at your face with such intensity, that you couldn’t help but feel insecure and want to cover your face.

“Well, what did those binary numbers represent?” you really did want to help his get a name, after all, he was your first friend here.

“I want to be called JK, but my friends told me it was a ridiculous human name, because no one was named JK before. So I settled for its binary number. They approved of that,” his eyes shone of much when he talked about it, his long lashes were uprightly curved and you couldn’t help but swoon.

You fiddled with your sweater as you gave him suggestions, but none seemed to suit him.

“Jake? No,” you were starting to get frustrated at this, “Hm, maybe Jacob?” you shook your head again, unsatisfied.

He just simply continued to laugh at you being so serious, occasionally playing with hair and pressing a finger to your soft cheeks. When he commented on you being soft, you couldn’t help but blush (and when he compared you to one their red fruits, you couldn’t help but blush harder (you denied it, obviously)).

“Jungkook!” you remember reading that word in one of the books you had in high school literature.

“Jungkook? Do you like it, baby?” He played with your cheeks with happiness, he was happy that you were no longer frustrated or angry. Finally satisfied and happy. Of course, you blushed at the word of endearment, but didn’t tell him to not say it.

Oh. Well, after that, he just continued to ask you about humans, and more specifically about you. You were amused by most of his questions,

“What is sarcasm?”

“Why do you like pizza so much, when it’s detrimental for your health? You shouldn’t eat it, I’ll make good food for you,”

“How do you make stereotypes?”

“Why do people get cosmetic surgery?”

And each one of them seemed normal for a Jubal to ask until,

“Why do humans like cuddling?”

At this point, you were quite tired, but still thought it would rude to ask him out, because he seemed really curious, every question coming right after you answer the last one.

“I guess, we just like to be touchy and close,” you said and you tried to suppress a yawn, but it just slipped.

“What was that? Was that a sigh? Or a yawn? Are you tired? That was so cute, do it again,”

“Just a little tired,” you said as you rested you head on his shoulder without realizing to do so. It was also getting really cold; the second moon had started to show up.

You both got up, and the walk back home was really pleasant. He kept cracking jokes and dancing on the pavement. You tried to imitate his dance, but your flow wasn’t as steady as his. How could someone dance so good like this, yet not be able to wave correctly? Your fingers intertwined again, and you leaned more into his body this time. You could barely reach his mid chest, that’s how tall he was. But somehow, you didn’t mind it because you both fit so perfectly – as if two parts of one puzzle.

As you reached the door of your apartment door again, you felt Deja-vu. He looked at your face, studying it carefully and looking back at your eyes, however instead of just looking at your lips this time, he leaned closer and looked back at you – almost as if asking for permission to kiss you. You nodded, and wow.

As his lips drew closer to yours, you could feel him cupping your face with both hands, one of them gradually descending to the back of your head as it found its place in your hair. They were incredibly soft, and almost overpowered you, because you didn’t expect this. As he slid his tongue and slowed himself, you found yourself wanting more, leaning towards him.

Before realizing that you needed to breathe, you started to choke, as he pulled himself back, and chuckled before saying, “Baby girl, take it slow, I’m all yours.”

“Want more,” is all you can say before leaning towards him, wanting to kiss him again. But unlucky for you, he just moved back before laughing again, and this time you pouted and slightly punched his chest.

“Now, you’re just being a brat, baby, you’ll get what I’ll give you, understand?” You could feel his breath fanning your face, and his eyes were no longer twinkling like they did, but instead were full of lust and an animalistic hunger.

‘’Jungkook, please,” you had never really been serious with boys in your high school, and so, this was the first time you had actually felt something down there. It was almost like someone – or Jungkook – lit a fire in your core, and you couldn’t help but just want more.

Fumbling hands opened the door to the apartment and you both tumbled in, messily but both of you didn’t care as you headed to your bedroom. On the way, he messily kissed your neck that made your knees buckle in a way that even walking was difficult.

He tossed you gently on your bed, that was way too big for the apartment, and ran his fingers through your hair, to you neck, and to your chest. He attacked your neck again, and started to form a pattern with his tongue as he pressed harder on some areas and trailed lighter on others.

You couldn’t help but let a whine escape your mouth when he left your neck unattended to take off your sweaters and cardigans till you were only in your undergarments and a see-through white dress.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he attacked your lips again, this time being harsher with his movements, as his tongue slipped in your mouth, doing wonders to his body.

“J-Jungkook, please,” you felt so much, so sudden, and even in this cold, the heat was too much for you – the heat inside you wanted to escape, but you didn’t know how to ask him.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you want,” his amused voice made it obvious as to what you wanted, but still he continued to tease you, torment you, put you on the edge, “Tell daddy what you want,”

You took in a gasp as he unbuckled your bra strap from behind, free-ing your breasts, and the very next second, tore your fragile dress.

“Hm, tell me baby girl,” he asked you once again, as he took in one of you nipples in his mouth, his tongue encircling your bud, as one of his hands pinched the other one.

“Jungkook I-” you gasped as you felt a slap on your clit, it wasn’t that harsh because he was being careful, and you were still in your panties – but it just turned you on more.

“Baby, you have to call me Daddy, do you understand?” he said as his free wrist kept putting pressure on the top of you panties, making you want to rip them off, so you could finally feel him where you wanted to.

“Yes,” you said, and whined after he took off his mouth from your nipple to look at you, and after a second you understood what you had to say, “Yes Daddy, I understand,”

“Such a good girl for me, so pretty,” he said as he kissed your cheek, and you just couldn’t stop blushing. He was so harsh, yet so gentle at the same time – and it made your head spin.

“Now, be a good baby, and tell Daddy what you want him to do to you,” he said as he neared your ear, “does baby want daddy to wreck her pussy?”

You couldn’t help but shiver before speaking, “I want Daddy to make me feel good,”

His fingers slowly trailed your body, making you moan and buckle your body up towards him. You looked at him, his ears tinged red, and his eyes were darker than before, he almost looked like a fallen angel. He chuckled, looking at you seem so helpless, so fragile.

You were so soft, so ethereal, like an angel from the sky and he was there to taint you, to make you his.

He teased you by playing with the band of your underwear, he put two fingers in your mouth and you instantly slicked them with your saliva, making obscene noises that blended in with your moans. Then he trailed those two fingers right above your covered clit, and you couldn’t help but buckle up again, wanting those two fingers inside of you.

“Be patient, princess,” and it felt like an eternity as he circled his tongue in your belly button and it so, so, so slowly trailed down and down, and he finally took off your panties with his teeth.

“So wet, baby, you’re making a mess,” he commented as he rubbed you with one finger, and using the other one to encircle your hole. He pushed it a little inside, easily as your slick helped him, before looking back at you to see if you were comfortable, and when he got the green light, he continued to push it entirely in, “Such a good baby for me, think you can handle Daddy’s cock?”

You nodded in exasperation, his finger was long and hit all the right spots, but you needed more. He added another finger, while rubbing your clit with more pressure and making circle patterns with his tongue below your belly button. You were so near, so so near, you just needed that one push off the edge.

“Well, you’re going to have to work for Daddy’s cock, baby, think you can take this monster?” He took out his finger with a pop, as soon as he felt you clench down on his finger.

“Daddy, f-fuck me, please,” you moaned, missing his touch. He looked just as a mess as you were, panting and taking off his shirt. You continued to admire his body, he didn’t look buff like gym rats, but instead he had a lean, slightly muscular body.

He continued to tease you by biting his lip and taking off his boxers extremely slowly. You whimpered when his cock was free against his stomach, and it was bigger than any you’ve been before while watching porn. It was even bigger than the dildo your friend bought as a joke for your birthday present, and you had started to doubt if he would fit inside of you.

“Suck Daddy if you want to cum, princess,” he groaned as he pumped himself a couple of times before you put your mouth on his head.

Not having any experience before, you didn’t really know how to start, but you gave little kitten licks at his head, and then took it in your heated mouth. He didn’t taste how you had imagined, instead it was more like a salted caramel toffee you had, it was delicious and you wanted more. You continued to take more, and more of him and suddenly gagged because you couldn’t take anymore – only to realize you had only taken half his dick in your mouth.

“Can’t handle more? I guess you’re too small for Daddy’s big cock, huh?”

The thought of his not fucking you was almost terrifying at this point and you continued to let your throat loose and tale more of him, until you felt his cock twitch, which made you moan. Tears spilled out as he fucked your throat, fast and hard.

“Such a good, pretty baby for daddy, taking my cock so good, princess,” he groaned before pushing in it a couple of times and taking it out.

“Such a naughty baby, making Daddy almost cum,” he kissed you again, tasting his own cum, before dipping down again, “you need to be punished, huh?”

“Daddy, please t-touch me,” you whined, grabbing his hand and putting it in between your thighs, and surprisingly he slapped your inner thigh.

“Being such a bratty baby now, I guess I do need to punish you, you don’t deserve Daddy’s fingers,” he said trailing again lightly all over body, but stopping as soon as he neared where you needed him the most, “touch yourself,”

You were dumbfounded, but when you saw his serious look, you shyly dipped your finger into your heat, and circled them around, but even after two fingers, it just wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Daddy, please, I c-can’t, I need you,” you cried out while rubbing yourself between your legs, filled with your slick.

“Such a needy princess, always demanded Daddy,” he tsked before adding two fingers inside you, and as you gasped, “but Daddy adores you, so he’ll help his pretty little baby,”

You moaned, not holding back, as he pumped those fingers, and let his tongue work magic on your clit. He continuously pumped his fingers back and forth, while torturing your bud and the heat inside of you kept growing and before you realized it, “Jungkook, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum on my fingers, baby, go on,” his movements became more faster and you trembled under gaze, and unconsciously arched your back before letting yourself loose. It felt like heaven.

Even after this, you had been surprised to see that he didn’t stop and the stimulation was too much for you, as you tried to get away from him, but he held you in place, his wrist holding your pelvic in place.

Despite your whimpering and moans, he took his mouth to your perked up nipple again, and scissored his fingers, to prepare you for his cock. Then, he looked at you, cupped you face and kissed you again, this time more soft, as if you were a china doll, going to break at any given moment.

After letting his dick sit on your bud, he slowly let the head of his cock find your entrance and pushed it slightly. You let out a cry, he was too big for you, but he shushed you and pressed against your lips again before letting it enter little by little. You quickly grab his upper arm and clench it, the pain and pleasure were starting to combine again and you nodded, letting him know that it was okay to continue.

The raw emotion in his eyes was enough to let you go on, and when you were finally full, you looked down only to find you could only take half of him, he was just too big for you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re too tiny, can’t even take all of me,” he groaned before moving slowly, and then finally setting a pace that was safe, but unsatisfactory for you.

“J-Jungkook, f-fas-ter please,” you whined as he started becoming harsher, and his finger started abusing your bud again, and you couldn’t help but realize you were close again. This time, it felt more intense, more powerful.

He was so big, that you could feel him everywhere, it almost felt like he was ripping you apart, but the pleasure was almost overwhelming and the way his cock filled you up made you insatiable – you just wanted more, and more. You could feel your walls being pushed everything he buckled inside you, but he just did it so right.

“Baby, you’re so cute, gonna cum for Daddy?” he kissed your nipple and trailed up to your lips before diving a tongue into your moaning mouth. You nodded, and felt your second release come near.

“J-Jungkook, you feel so good,” you moaned as your walls clenched around his cock, and finally you gushed out, and trembled as you rode your orgasm. Simultaneously, he too, slammed his hips a couple times before cumming deep into you. As he took himself out, cum poured out of you, and he chuckled before taking it and spreading it over your face. Globs of cum covered your red cheeks and entered your mouth.

“You look so pretty with my cum on you face, keep it there until tomorrow morning,” he kissed your nose and coo-ed when you squirmed in embarrassment.

You could feel tugging and pulling when you felt someone wake you up and instinctively, you said, “Just five more minutes.”

“But you said that the last time,” Jungkook looked at you, his breathe fanning your face.

Too close, too close, too close. You looked at other way and tried to close your eyes.

“You’re so cute, like a small puppy,” he coo-ed at you, making your stomach feel things you’ve never felt before.

“I- I’m not like a puppy!” You tried to fight back in your sleep, but couldn’t help the blush forming on your cheeks and ears.

You could feel the dried up cum on your face, and wanted to wash it off, but feeling too sore to move.

“Can’t move, princess? Was Daddy’s cock too much for you, last night?” he coo-ed at you, mumbling about how cute you were, and how he wanted to baby you and make you his.

“I’m too sore, Kookie,” you whined into the pillow and were taken by surprise when he lifted you and carried you to the tub.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of my little human baby girl,” he said as he laid you in the lukewarm water and washed your body softly.

CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO

You were starting to feel more at home, even more than when you were at Earth.

A/N: That’s a wrap! Hope you like it. Go to master link for more!

#bts smut #Jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reactions #bts reader insert #bts preferences #bts #jungkook bts #jungkook scenarios #Jungkook #jungkook reader insert #jungkook reaction #jungkook x reader #Jungkook daddy #jungkook fluff

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licieoic · 4 years

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“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.��

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

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pastthebutterflies · 3 years

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Simple Solutions

Sometimes the answer to your problem is closer than it appears. Marcy didn't know it would be so simple.

Just a short little thing to get some feelings out about the finale, reblogs appreciated! Enjoy!

(Ao3 link in the reblogs!)

Marcy would never say that she had the worst family in the world.

They weren’t particularly stern or overbearing. Never set harsh rules, gave a somewhat lenient curfew, and mostly free reign of the city. They supported her gaming habits, whether that be video or table top, even tried to join in from time to time, when Anne or Sasha didn’t want to. Otherwise, she was usually left to her own devices.

Over all, her parents were good people. Logically, she knows this. She also knows this means she doesn’t have much room to complain when things at home do go wrong. Marcy has seen Sasha’s parents, heard about the rules, the constant raised expectations, seen the way it rubs at her when she thinks no one is looking.

She knows it could be worse.

But, as she storms away from the house, her parents sitting shell shocked in the living room, what Marcy also knows is this: it isn’t fair .

The tears are coming hard and fast, now. Fat droplets are bubbling up at the corners of her eyes, no matter how many times she wipes them away with her sleeve, threatening to drop with every step she takes. Still tucked in her pocket, she can feel her phone blowing up, likely with messages from her parents that she can’t bring herself to look at yet.

Marcy has never really fought with them like that. Not one of that caliber, that is. There was once, when Sasha brought her and Anne to a concert downtown, long after sundown, after coaxing Marcy out her bedroom window. In the end, she had nearly shattered her ankle on the way down and had lost all her devices for a month once her parents found out she was gone. Sasha had been there for that one, had convinced her to push back on the punishment (“We’re teenagers now, Mar, what else did they expect?”), which had only caused her grounding to be extended from a week to a month (she would only admit to Anne later on that she sort of…“Wish Sasha had stayed out of it, pleasedon’ttellherthough.”).

With that as her only real reference, Marcy gets the feeling that there might be a difference between sneaking out with friends and screaming how they ruined her life, followed by a swift exit, complete with slamming doors and heavy footsteps.

School had ended hours ago, she realizes. Anne and Sasha don’t even know yet. They don’t know yet. How is she supposed to-?

It’s Anne’s birthday, too.

The pit that had been steadily growing in her stomach since she left home gets ever larger. It sucks up every piece of her like a particularly hungry black hole and leaves her stomach feeling like it might cave in on itself if she isn’t careful.

She pictures arriving at Anne’s front door, empty handed (she still hadn’t had time to find anything decent, not with finals around the corner) with nothing but bad news to bring the night down. For a moment, she considers skipping out, entirely. She would probably only make them feel worse in the long run. Even if Marcy didn’t bring it up right away, her mood felt almost tangible, like they would be able to see the black cloud hanging over her head as soon as she approached.

By this point, the street she finds herself on is nearly empty. Thick, dreary clouds overhead are gathering overhead, accompanied by a wind that sends Marcy curling further into her jacket, hands tucked deep in her pockets. One is wrapped around her phone, which is still vibrating steadily. Funny, considering her parents aren’t typically ones to text so much, no matter their moods.

It isn’t until she stops a few minutes later that she decides to risk a glance. When the screen lights up, Marcy is more than ready for a scathing voicemail from her dad or a novel from her mom, asking her to come home, but instead, she only finds a stack of unread messages from Sasha. Most are asking when she will be by, along with a reminder that Anne’s party started half an hour ago.

Marcy winces, she was supposed to be there ages ago. At this point though, she leans against the shop beside her, what was a few more minutes?

The messages get swiped away and she looks up, ready to head out with a somewhat clearer head than she had a few minutes ago.

That’s when she spots it, nestled on an otherwise empty shelf behind the shop window.

The first thing Marcy notices is that the box is smaller in person than it had appeared in the book. Which she supposes makes sense, drawings from old books like that rarely translate well to real life, size wise. But the jewels along the side still shine in the dim light, green, pink, and blue, running along the frog carving beside it. If she hadn’t seen the sketch in the library that afternoon, she doesn’t think she would have recognized it. Probably would have kept walking, maybe would have noted its potential in a campaign down the line, before she continued down the street.

But as it stands, she does know that box and when she lifts her phone, the picture she took before already pulled up, her heart stutters at the perfect match.

Another text from Sasha comes in. There are still none from her parents.

A portal to another world.

Another buzz.

It would never work. These kinds of things only ever happen in video games, fantasies. Life has never been kind enough to just present this easy of an opportunity to her. Marcy has had to work for everything in her life; her grades, her achievements.

Her friends.

Life doesn’t grant any favors.

Even so, this doesn’t stop Marcy as she lifts her phone again and snaps another photo to quickly send off to Sasha. Her phone pings a second later, essentially setting the rest of her night in stone as Sasha plots out their mission.

It won’t work, of course it won’t.

Magic doesn’t work like that here. Besides, it looks so small, sitting up there, nothing like the power it supposedly emanates. Still, Anne would probably enjoy the story behind it and she was looking for a new jewelry box, anyway.

When she eventually continues down the street, the box left to sit until later, her shoulders feel a bit lighter than they had when she left home. Her friends still don’t know, she can’t put it off forever.

Tonight, she tells herself. After they’ve had their fun.

In the meantime, what’s the harm in waiting?

#amphibia #Amphibia Spoilers #true colors #true colors spoilers #Marcy wu #lydsfics #I have a lot of emotions rn #and I'm making them everyone else's problem

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thereallinksstuff · 4 years

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So I rewrote the notes, apologies for spelling errors if there are any. Ps it's also on a03 here's a link if that's what you prefer, plus there's my other fics there too. https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684086

Logan stood in his room, much like he did every morning at 9 am, looking over himself with a small smile in the mirror. Admiring how good he thought he looked in his 'hidden' outfit as he's been refering to it as. A punked out Jean vest with a large amount of science, space and ocean life themed pins and patches with a save the Earth T-shirt underneath. Topped off with one of his Solid Blue ties loosely tied around his neck. A slick clean pair of black skinny Jeans that he had rolled up to cover just the top of his royal blue converse high tops, tied in a perfect double bow knot.

Suddenly Logan felt Thomas summoning him, Not managing to snap into his usual attire before standing, frozen still in his regular spot in Thomas's livingroom. Much like a deer in headlights.

Thomas, Virgil, Janus and Patton each stood in their respective areas looking at Logan, complete surprise and shock on their faces until Virgil breaks out into laughter. Thomas quickly remembered Logan mentioning this outfit many, many months ago when he first created it for himself. He had only told Thomas since as his 'Brain side' Thomas would know about it anyways.

Thomas swiftly got the others to pay attention to him so Logan could Snap into his usual attire when needed by the group. Logan smiled at him ever so faintly and silently thanked him for the metaphorical saving of him in the situation. He joined in the conversation and helped to the best of his abilities, which is to say, how much the others were willing to listen to his input.

For the next hour or so they discussed whether or not Thomas should make a video about them or one of his many second channel series'. He honestly didn't pay much attention. He was too focused on a strange feeling (heh feeling) that someone was in his room.

As soon as Thomas had his issue resolved Logan was the first to say goodbye, of course with a reminder to drink water and be healthy, but he was out of there quickly.

When he got back to his room he didn't immediately see anyone there, curious as to why he felt like someone had been. He began looking around his room to be sure. He noted how all the books were in place, his bed was still neatly made, his closet doors were slightly open as he had left them. Taking a moment to double check inside his closet, he felt as though someone had their eyes on him. As he walked out of his closet he noticed the his punk outfit was now laid neatly on his bed, walking over and picking up his best to put it away before noticing something in the pocket. He took out a small box that hadn't been in the pocket prior. Setting his vest down and sitting beside the outfit to open the box.

Looking inside carefully incase it's another one of Remus's pranks, glad that it doesn't seem to be he pulls out a thrice folded note.

For Logan, the biggest nerd I know,

I know this is random, and you don't like sides in your room but I can't help but give this to you. I have something else to give you, looking in the kitchen, where Patton won't see to find your next clue.

Ps, I liked the smile that this put on your face, you should wear it more, it suits you well.

From nobody.

As curious as Logan was about the who wrote the note, he does love a good puzzle after all. He looked at the outfit before looking to the gift in the box, deciding to snap into the punk outfit again. Agreeing with the author of the note that it does look good on him. Finally looking inside the box to see what gift he's recieved. Inside was a space pin that had 'viva la pluto' written on a small ribbon over an image of the planet itself. To say he was shocked was an understatement. He was unsure as to who would have given him something so sweet and who would have gone through the trouble of learning about his disdain for Pluto no longer being a planet.

Once a planet, always a planet, He thought as he placed the pin on his vest. Making his way down to the kitchen and seeing Patton making some lunch, the others elsewhere in the mindscape.

"Hello Patton, I wanted to apologize for my appearance earlier I didn't have time to change before being summoned, I will make sure it does not happen again."

Turning around and smiling brightly at Logan, Patton waved it off. " It's alright Logan, I just didn't expect you to enjoy that style, but whatever makes you happy kiddo."

"Ah, thank you Patton. I appreciate your understanding." Logan replied with his usual small smile, looking about the kitchen for somewhere that Patton wouldn't be able to see. Staying out of Patton's way while looking around, seeing a small blue envelope propped up on top of one of the cupboards. Reaching up and grabbing it, seeing that it is the next clue he is to be looking for. Pocketing the note to grab himself a snack, before sitting at the table to read his second clue. Nodding to Roman as he joins Patton and Logan in the kitchen.

To my Star

I know you like to read so check your favourite book to find the next clue, this may be short but I know you won't mind.

From someone ;)

As he finished his snack and reread the note, wondering who it's author is, Roman and Patton join him at the table. Both noticing the note and sharing a look before Roman speaks in his usual princely tone.

"Whatcha got there Logan?" He asked simply, Logan looked up from the note to him to respond.

"A note, it's the second I've gotten today and I am trying to figure out who has been writing them. I unfortunately do not recognize the handwriting, would either of you be able to assist?" He slid the note over to where they could see, Patton looking over it like a confused puppy and Roman looking intensely at it.

Logan sat and waited for them to look between the note and each other. "Well? Do either of you have an idea?" Logan asked calmly as Patton slid the note back.

"Well, I know it isn't Virgil's, his writing is more stylized and he likes to change fonts." Patton replied with a small apologetic smile. Roman tapped his chin as he spoke after Patton.

"Well, my king here is correct and I can tell you it was neither of us, it does look like it could be Janus or Remus's, though I'd expect Remus to write in anything but pen." Roman chuckled softly at Patton and Logans reaction to that. "Oh you both know it's true, he does stuff like that a lot. But I would ask Janus, he seems the most likely." Roman finished sincerely, smiling big and taking Patton's hand in his when nudged.

Logan smiled softly at the two, their relationship having first been a little surprising to the other sides and Logan, but being honestly sweet and helping Thomas greatly. "Well, thank you Roman and Patton, I shall retrieve the next note and continue my adventure. I hope you both have a lovely afternoon."

Smiling at the two respectfully as he gets up to let them have their lunch in peace. Letting them know he shall see them at dinner time before heading up to his room.

Bumping into Virgil on the stairwell. "Ah Virgil, I wanted to apolo-" "Don't worry about the outfit Logan, the style is different and I don't think it fits but Patton said I can't laugh again. Plus you do kind of pull it off." Virgil cut off Logans apology, knowing that he doesn't need to be sorry for being comfortable, especially after all Logan has done to help Virgil be accepted the way he is with the others.

"Ah yes we'll, I'm glad you understand and think so Virge. Oh by the way have you seen either Remus or Janus up here?" Logan was hoping the stormy side had but sighed a little internally when Virgil shakes his head no. "I don't know why your looking for either of them but if you find Janus do you mind letting him know I need his assistance later?" Virgil asked quietly, the faintest of purple glow in his eyeshadow. "Of course Virgil, I shall make note to let him know if I pass him. See you at dinner." Logan replied kindly, nodding with Virgil as the leave to their respective directions.

Opening his door to his room and seeing his original copy of ' The Murder of Agatha Christie' sitting on his desk instead of the shelf where he left it. Picking up the book with a smile, quickly remembering all the good times he's had reading it. Opening the book the the page he was on and seeing another note beside his bookmark. Taking the note out and setting it on his desk before putting the boom away on the shelf.

Standing infront of his desk as he picks the note back up and reads it.

To My Earth,

The notes may be done but the hunt is on, the basement is where to go, a snake or a rat, either will work, to get you to where you want to go

Sincerely,

your admirer.

Staring at the note for a few minutes, having a very minor brain freeze when reading that the notes have been because the author admires him. Going through a list of random facts to unfreeze his mind from his surprise. Shaking his head lightly before heading out of his room and down to the basement, knowing that only Remus and Janus hang out down here. Logan looked around, not noticing Janus or Remus in their living room. He sighed softly as he sat on one of the couches, thinking over where one of them would be in the mindscape. After about five minutes his thoughts shift to who would send these notes, after all he was the 'nerd' he was logic. Although he didn't enjoy wearing the professional outfits as much as his punk one, he just couldn't get his thoughts to a conclusive answer about why someone would admire him.

Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice Remus come up from who knows where to stand right infront of him.

"HIYA Logan, whatcha doing down here?"

Be startled back into reality, Logan re adjusted his vest while answering, "I was left a note that said to find either you or Janus." Logan replied with a. Faint blush on his face from being caught off guard. He hoped Remus would notice and turn it into something more than it is.

"Oh well, that sounds fun can I help you??"

Remus asked while bouncing on his feet, excited about being able to help someone rather than cause then distress. For a few moments logan questioned why Remus would want to help him rather than cause him his normal headache. Unable to bring himself to a logical conclusion as to why he may be acting like this before handing the note to Remus.

"This is the last note I received however I do not know who the author is, and as it says I was looking for either you or Janus to assist. He finished with an adjustment to his glasses and a faint smile to Remus. As Remus was reading the Note and doing his weird thinking face, Logan took this time to really get a look at Remus, he wasn't in his normal Dukey attire, he was wearing something more akin to how logan was dressed. Studded biker boots, torn and well worn camo shorts, a black sleeveless t-shirt that read 'could be gayer' across the chest and a fully studded and random yet organized patch covered Jacket. Logan laughed a little to himself about the similarities between his and Remus's styles. "Well, Remus, do you know what you are to assist with?"

Almost as if he had forgotten Logan was there Remus blinked then bounced right back into energy town. "I DO!!" He shouted and grabbed logan by the wrist. "I know this seems kinda crazy but just follow me!" Remus bounced forward dragging logan along with him. Ignoring the nice feeling of skin contact, Logan followed after Remus, hoping it wasn't an elaborate prank.

"Okay I'm gonna need you to close your eyes and trust me." Remus asked as he stopped in front of a door Logan didn't recognize. "May I ask why Remus, I do not wish to be the subject of your pranks."

Remus looked at Logan with a large grin and replied simply. "it's a surprise! But also because we have to cut through a part of my imagination. I don't want you to be er.. grossed out?" Remus finished quizzadically, him being considerate of the others feelings was a bit strange to Logan, seeing as Remus rarely did it, however he was more curious as to who the author of the notes was and why they have been giving them to him today if all days. Choosing to ignore the romantic feelings he has for the imaginative side infront of him, since logically if he's helping the author it wouldn't be him.

"Alright Remus, I trust you to keep me safe, we can go when you are ready." Logan adjusted his glasses to look at Remus, who had been staring at logan with a wide grin plastered on, but slowly it wavered as he processed what logan had said. "You...you actually trust me enough to enter my imagination?" He asked, looking down rubbing hands together to keep them busy. Not used to people being okay with one, trusting him and two, someone being okay with going into his half of the imagination.

"Well yes, you may not have the nicest or cleanest thoughts and ideas, but you are a part of Thomas, and to be honest with you Remus, there are times when I prefer yours and Janus's company over the others. You are unpredictable and can be a bit morbid however, I have no reason to not trust you. You have never directly hurt me, and I can easily sink out to safety if need be."

Hoping that Remus hasn't noticed the light blush and emotions in the words he's speaking. Letting out a small breath he didn't realize he was holding as Remus bounced in excitement. "Okay, let's go!"

Grabbing Logan's hand gently instead of wrist this time, Remus pulled logan into his imagination as soon as the other's eyes were closed.

Logan now with his eyes closed and his hand in Remus's, he hoped Remus knew where he was going, but then again, this was his side of the imagination, the place he spends most of his time. So Logan let himself get pulled along what sounded like a dirt path. Every so often he would hear humming from Remus as the walked. It had only been 10 minutes of walking but to Logan it felt like longer. Logan spending more thought on trying to ignore how amazing it feels to be holding Remus's hand than how much time is passing.

"Okay stay right there with your eyes closed." Remus had asked him calmly, with what seemed like nervousness in his voice if only a little.

"Okay Remus, just please no pranks." Logan replied calmly and did as asked. He could hear Remus walk towards and open something but, without the visuals he couldn't identify it, so he waited patiently playing with the various spikes on his wristband. Remus slowly walked back over to Logan, a bouquet of wilted flowers in his hands, tied with a royal blue ribbon, he tried for days to make living flowers but couldn't,

He gently tapped logan on the shoulder.

"okay you can open your eyes now" he said with such gentleness that the other had not heard before, opening his eyes and looking around at his surroundings, he couldn't help but to be shocked. Up in the night sky there were thousands of glowing stars with a large shining moon bathing both men in a calm faintly blue light.

As Logan looked around he noticed the partially alive trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing they were in. Remus had a wonderful imagination, yes there were random creatures wandering around, random dirty jokes personified and many, many creations of unknown identity that Remus has left in places, but it was wonderful in its own way, Chaotic but organized. Elements of each of the sides were visible amount the seeming chaos.

Slowly looking over to Remus, Logan noticed how he was already looking at him, with a goofy grin on his face holding what seemed to be withered flowers. "I know you are a hesitant person sometimes and that you like to do things in the most logical order. However demented or disturbing to the other my ideas and thoughts are, you help them to understand me better. Which I can't thank you enough for. So Logan Sanders...would you like to... Would you like to make macabre and chaotic things with me? LikeBoyfriendsDo? On a regular bases?"

It took a moment for Logan to process all of what Remus had been saying, and if his thinking was right Remus was the author of the notes, and he was asking him out in a very Remus way. Logan blushed heavily as did Remus. Realizing that it was Remus who got him the pin and has been leaving the notes, the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach going into a frenzy.

For once Logan didn't have the words to respond, the side he has had feelings for, for a while is asking him out and to be his boyfriend. Before his logical thinking could stop him he stepped forward grabbing Remus by his jacket collar pulling him into a kiss.

Taking the kiss as a yes, Remus slid his hands around Logan's waist, kissing him back with passion in an attempt to communicate how happy he is. When they pull apart logan looks at him with a sparkle in his eyes that was usually reserved for learning. However right here right now, with Remus, in his imagination logan couldn't be happier, even with all his grossness or disturbing thoughts, Remus was the one for him.

"Thank you, and to verbally express my feelings, I accept your offer to be in a romantic relationship, Darling."

"Haha I figured from the kiss but thank you, to hear you say it makes my heart explode into a million pieces hahah." Leaning his head on Logan's shoulder with a chuckle and very very large grin. The two spent the afternoon and evening exploring the area of Remus's imagination that Remus led him to, making sure to keep mental and physical notes on the things that may stick with Thomas More than they probably should. Almost loosing track of time before checking his wristwatch and seeing that it's almost time for dinner.

"Patton will have dinner ready in 5 minutes, did you want to grab Janus and head up Rem?"

Logan asked Remus inbetween one of his short monologue. Remus's head shot up and he smiled big, bouncing in his boots. "I would love to! And we can just summon Janus if he isn't there already with his double dicked self." Remus laughed at the look on Logans face, knowing that the he has many, many questions to now ask Janus about his snake side.

Heading out of the imagination with Remus' hand in his own, Logan chose to ignore the snake anatomy questions floating in his mind in favor of thinking about how lucky he is to be able to express his romantic feelings and have them reciprocated. Laughing with Remus, his real genuine laugh because Remus made a joke as they walk into the kitchen.

Both stopping their laughter when Roman yells at seeing them, being a very confused prince that the brain and the dark creative sides are holding hands and laughing. Patton squeeking loudly enough to make Janus rise up and Virgil come downstairs. Janus looked over to where Logan and Remus are standing, tipping his hat to the green side with a small smile. Virgil looking at them both in pure confusion before just throwing his arms up in defeat and sitting at the table, blushing more when Janus sits beside him of all places.

Logan and Remus take their seats, still holding hands as they get bombarded with questions. Logan thinking about how glad he is that the notes were finally given to him as Remus tells Patton about how he set it up.

#intrulogical #logan sanders #punk logan sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #punk remus #punk remus sanders #ts sides patton #patton sanders #roman sanders #royality #Janus sanders #ts deciet #sanders sides virgil #anxciet #my fic

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exhaustedwitch22777 · 4 years

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apollo devotionals

(part one.)

//disclaimer: these are all a part of my personal practice, and are not given as an absolute means to connect with a deity, bonding with a deity takes time, respect, and care. i cannot offer you a short cut//

• wake and watch the sunrise - this seems like a simple and pretty obvious act, but its one of the ones that brought me closer to Him! after a while of waking myself up at sunrise, i started waking daily with the first light of day every day, and ever day its a reminder that Apollo's guidance is with me!

• pray - yes, i know. the most obvious tip in deity work. pray. pray constantly. pray when you're scared and pray when you're grateful. the prayers that you offer up don't have to be the most refined and composed work of prose ever, just make sure that however you choose to convey your message, you feel it. i also advise to pray outside of asking for things! be sure you are offering and doing for your god as much as you would like them to do for you. pray often and with intent, this was crucial to my development of faith,the only way to develop a dialogue with your deity is to start and work to maintain that dialogue yourself.

• keep a worship journal - whether you have a grimoire or not, having a place where you can write down what rituals and prayers you are performing, and compare it later to the outcome, is super important for learning about a deity and improving your relationship with them!

• construct an altar - even if it isn't large and ornate, even if it is a corner of a window sill or shelf, intentionally arrange any items you feel are connected to Him, and any offerings you wish to leave.

• leave offerings - leave out flowers, food, drink, etc. or burn incense, candles, or herbs for him. (ill be posting a more constructed offering list soon! )

• wear yellow - this serves as a great reminder to pray throughout the day, an easy base for protection (embroider/draw some sigils on that! charge it overnight!)

• listen to music - especially music that reminds you of him! perhaps try making a playlist for him! im no singer usually, but ill often sing in honor to him. (if youre in the broom closet, a playlist to listen to while walking/ driving is a fantastic and covert way to worship.

• create - write, paint, draw, sing, craft, do whatever it is you do to produce with your hands! drawings, poems, and any other creations are wonderful offerings to Apollo.

• practice/try your hand at divination - whether it be reading tarot, using a pendulum, or interpreting dreams and recurring symbols in ones life, developing my skill at divination was something that brought me a lot closer to Apollo, through praying for and receiving guidance

• be kind to your local crows! - crows were one of the first symbols of Apollo i recognized in my life, and ive been good at handling them since i was a kid! they're a very common 'nod' or 'wink' ill get from Apollo, and have become very close to my heart! ill often leave out food and water for them, and since its spring, nesting materials are great to leave out too!

(want to talk to me about my practice, as well as meet and talk to other worshippers of the theoi? message me for a link to a no-discourse, no-bigotry hellenic worship discord!!)

#hellenic polytheism #apollo #hellenic pantheon #apollo devotee #apollon #theoi #deity #deitywork #polytheism #pagan #offering #apollo worship #worship

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cha-ra-nui · 3 years

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Just a few days ago I received my copies of Story Op.1 and Story Op.2, two albums I have avoided for years and was convinced I wouldn't enjoy. Avoided, because I've taken years to return to SHINee after 2017, and only properly listened to Base (which I loved) and She Is (which I'm entirely too ace for) a few months ago, while Poet | Artist sits on my shelf, still untouched after more than four years. Avoided, because I didn't feel emotionally prepared. Convinced I wouldn't enjoy them, because I rarely like slow songs, and these albums have a reputation for being exclusively that. I can count the number of KPop ballads I like on one hand.

And now, after finally listening to them, I have felt overwhelmed with thoughts and emotions for days. I needed an outlet, and my normal year-end-retrospective, which I used last year to make sense of my feelings towards SHINee, just isn't an option for talking about albums from 2015/17. Even if it were, I have too much to say, too much to untangle, to put into a single paragraph. So I wrote a review for both albums for @x-i-l-verify like I usually do when I buy something, but even that wasn't enough to clear my head this time. Which is why I decided to properly edit my thoughts and put them on my blog. I’m going to link to the respective song’s entry on colorcodedlyrics.com this time, not YouTube directly, since I consider understanding the lyrics to be an integral part of the experience, something I never thought I’d say about a KPop album.

Story Op.1

End of a Day: Probably the most talked about song on these albums, and I can see why, even though it's far from my favorite. (She says, now watch me give this a glowing review.) It's very comforting to listen to, and that's pretty much how I'd describe the entire album. This album makes you feel fuzzy, but in very different ways. I've seen someone say that the entire spectrum of human emotions can be found in Jonghyun's discography, and at this point, I'm inclined to agree. This song is like coming home after a long day, and finding comfort even though life is hard. It's hopeful. And by all accounts, this is the type of song I'd usually rip apart. It's slow, soft, and minimalist, just a piano and vocals really. But it works. It's not boring, and it doesn't feel empty, its a song that didn't need anything else to be captivating. 10/10, this isn't what I'm going to listen to most, but I have too much respect for what he achieved here to deduct points for that

U & I: This too is the kind of song I usually can't stand, but there's just enough leeway in the lyrics to interpret them as not-romantic, and I like that. This is about as upbeat as this album will get, and it's almost fun. It's about looking forward to talking to someone close to you, no matter if the stories they tell are happy or sad, even if you're struggling yourself. It's comforting, and by the end of this review I'll have run that word into the ground. It's a bit more rhythmical, but still a far cry from the loud instrumentals I've come to expect in KPop. Instead of adding more synths, Jonghyun seems to focus on getting as much as he can out of what's already there, and it's such a breath of fresh air. This is the type of song I could see being released by a band, not a pop idol. The guitar makes most of this song, even more than the vocals really, and I'm just not used to melodic instrumentals that can easily stand on their own, not in KPop. 8/10, this one was a pleasant surprise

Like You: Ah well, I knew what I was getting myself into with him. It's a cute, fluffy, love song. Yeah, I'm just too aromantic for this one. I appreciate the verses, especially the vocals during them, and it's a far cry from a bad song. Just really not for me. And because I can't connect with it, I notice more details I dislike, like how I'm not too fond of the repetitive chorus. 5.5/10, still cute though

Diphylleia Grayi: On paper, this should be boring. It's a song with shockingly short lyrics stretched over 4:37 minutes. Nothing but strings and piano, sung in a very careful and hesitant tone, it's like countless bad, fake-deep songs that get put on pop albums to give the singer some artistic credibility. Thing is, this is the real deal. I don't even know what to say, this song is magical. The skeleton flower is one of the best metaphors for regret I've ever seen. And this song is regretful, filled with pain and melancholy, but not quite despair. The vocals here are also nothing short of angelic. I cannot oversell just how impressed I am with this. I don't know if I'd call it my favorite of his, it's not exactly something you can put on a playlist and jam too, but it's certainly one of his best. On first listen, this was the song were I started grinning like an idiot because of the sheer joy I felt over having found a truly special piece of art. If I'm feeling overwhelmed by these albums, this is why. I'm giddy with incredulous joy at how otherworldly perfect some of the songs are, while also being put through an emotion wringer by the intense feelings of regret, loneliness, pain and anxiety many of them are conveying. 10/10, if this would be all I'd gotten from both albums it'd have been worth every cent I spent on them

Happy Birthday: I'll make this one quick, because I don't want to listen to it more than once to write this. And that's really all I need to say. Yeah, this is the stumble on the album. I'm not even sure what the intend was with this song, it's just a bit too subdued to be celebratory, and I'm honestly a bit annoyed by it when it ends. It's too repetitive. My sister asked me jokingly what I expected from a song titled "Happy Birthday". I don't know, more than 12 repeats of the title and half a verse I guess? 2/10, this is the biggest difference in score between two consecutive songs I've ever given

I'm Sorry: I think this is a breakup song, but once again it could also be about a broken friendship, much appreciated. At first this reads a bit like Key's Cold (a favorite of mine), where the narrator was too indifferent to the other person, but the dark turn this takes is very different. Instead of "I tried melting it, but my heart has frozen", this devolves into a full break-down, and hurts in an entirely different way. Where Diphylleia Grayi was regretful over past mistakes, this one goes into self-loathing, and it cuts off with only a hint of healing. It's about realizing your mistakes, and letting them break you down. Musically it's another strings-and-piano song, held together entirely by vocal skill and strength of composition, but I'm not sure how much I'd enjoy this without the lyrics and context of the album. 8.5/10, that was a quick and sure recovery

2:34: This is the closest to an easy-listening song on the album, alongside U & I. It's about reuniting with old friends, and remembering your joint childhood fondly, it's comfortable and easy. That alone wouldn't make me love it so much though, even though the subject matter is appreciated. No, it's that 2nd verse, which is easily one of the coolest things I've heard him do. I'm not sure if that counts as rap, but it's close, and his delivery is on point. I also love the phone call style intro and outro. This is a song that makes you feel warm and fuzzy, reminiscent and nostalgic. I want to have a get-together with my childhood friends now, too. I'm struggling a bit with the score though, it's not as impressively well constructed as End of a Day, and nowhere near as mindblowing as Diphylleia Grayi, but I still really like it. 9/10, very annoyed that the runtime of this song isn’t 2:34 minutes

Fine: There's a lot of strong stuff in this song, but it's all in the verses and bridge. Maybe I'm too aromantic for this too, but "You're so fine, you're so nice" doesn't really strike me as a very romantic line either. 5.5/10, too bad, I thought we were on a roll again

Maybe Tomorrow: This has such a beautiful message: It's okay if you're not feeling okay, and it'll get better, so take your time, it's okay, I'll be there for you, you're not alone. This is why the fluffy love songs feel like such a waste too me. It all comes back to this album feeling very comforting, and this song encapsulates that perfectly. So this might be a good point to mention the sequencing, because this is easily one of the most cohesive KPop albums I know. Jonghyun throws in small details during the intros and outros of songs that make them feel connected, even though they really aren't. And this last track ends on a spoken "I'm here", which is the perfect way to end this album. I love that. 8.5/10, he always finds exactly the right words to express the right sentiments

Which places Story Op.1 at 7.44. "Happy Birthday" heavily hurts its score, it'd be an 8.13 without it. For a bit of context, and I'm an extremely picky listener. The highest score I have ever given to an album is a 8.6 for Eau de VIXX, and there are only two other KPop releases that received a score of 8 or higher, namely Key's Bad Love at 8.58 and VIXX's Ker at 8.13, an EP and a repackaged album with three title tracks respectively.

Goes to show that the style he was going for here is extremely hard to nail, and one tiny misstep quickly knocks a song down from a 9 or 10 to a 1 or 2. Too bad, but don't let that distract you from how impressive this album is. With the exception of one song, everything works. The sequencing is perfect, and it's difficult to imagine that the songs on this were never designed to be on an album, much less the same one. He released them on and for Blue Night after all, over a span of months. I'm also very hesitant about calling this album KPop, because it really isn't. This has more in common with some acoustic indie rock albums I know than anything SHINee ever did. I'll talk more about some of the general things I appreciate about this release later, but first, let me talk about the 2nd album.

Story Op.2

Lonely: Okay, this will sound weird, but this song is too traditionally good for me to appreciate it. I enjoyed Story Op.1 mostly because it's so unapologetically not-marketable. And this? This sounds like something SM decided to make the title track because it follows a normal pop-ballad structure, is produced like one even, and because they banked on Taeyeon. Also, this is the 3rd of her features on SHINee solos I encountered, and I still think she works best with Key, their harmony is the most interesting one by far. And while this is certainly a better song than her collab with Taemin, I also think she suits his voice more than Jonghyun's. Still, they're both too good at their job to not make it work. 8/10, it's good, but not what I want right now

1000: As if to prove my suspicion about SM having a hand in Lonely sounding the way it does, we're back to a guitar and little else. This song is sung like one would tell a story, it's quite an interesting style. And once again, it should be boring and pretentious, but Jonghyun doesn't have to pretend, he can make a song like this work no problem. It does feel a bit like more-of-the-same though, there's little that distinguishes this song from the rest of the Story albums. Even the subject matter is too similar to End of a Day. 7.5/10, falls just a tiny bit short

Just Chill: This song summoned the incredulous grin back onto my face in seconds. It's a chill song like the title suggests, but it's the type of chilling where you lie on your bed with a really good and exiting book (or this album) and enjoy yourself very much. It's about being alone because you chose to take a day off, and it's lovely. The prechorus is also very catchy, and would make me smile if I wasn't already over how much I'm enjoying myself with this album. 9.5/10, I'm knocking down half a point for that useless "oh baby" in the chorus, this song isn't even addressing anyone

Love Is So Nice: That it may be, but the angsty break-up songs I sat through on both these albums make me question if it's worth it. Also, I'm very much too aromantic for this shit...again. Still, better too aro than too ace, I can deal with a romantic song, but I have no idea how to handle the lyrics on the She Is album. Yeah, I have little else to comment. This is my least favorite song on the album, but it's not bad, just really not for me. Also, once again, I doubt "nice" is the most romantic word you could come up with. 5.5/10, the usual

Blinking Game: This is a hard one. We're very much in French romance movie territory now. It's relaxing, almost too much, but once again not boring for it. The vocals carry it, and I'll make one comprehensive comment about the vocals on these albums later. 7/10, not my favorite, but very pretty

Elevator: Enough fun and games for now, this is pure angst. And I'm not sure if I interpret this right, the lyrics are slightly confusing. There's more than one person suffering in this song, but I don't know if they're suffering because the other person is suffering, or if this is a horrible case of being unable to reach out to someone (once) close to you, either to help them or to get help for yourself. It's about feeling isolated, isolating yourself, and watching someone you love isolate themselves as well. It's depressing and lonely, anxious and desperate. It's also a very pretty song, you could easily switch this and Blinking Game in subject matter and no one would notice, not as long as you don't consider the vocals, because they carry every bit of the pain and isolation of the lyrics. 9.5/10, I’m holding back on the 10s because Diphylleia Grayi set the bar too high

Let Me Out: I'm honestly a bit speechless over this one. It's extremely cool, a much heavier instrumental track than anything else on these albums, even though it still shows the same restraint and focus. He used a slightly distorted vocal filter, just enough in the right places to make this song hit even harder than it already does, and never too much, never so that it takes away from the controlled power of his voice. As far as vocal production alone is concerned, this is about as good as I ever heard in KPop, and the only songs that come close are also his productions or found on late VIXX releases. And it doesn't even need to be outstanding in that area, because everything else works just as well. This is why I’m holding back on the 10s! Songs like this are why I love music. And yes, the lyrics are seriously scary, but I don't think you can make a cry for help hit any harder than this one does. I just wish it were heard. 10/10, I'm floored. You did so well.

Fireplace: If Let Me Out is screaming in anguish, this is the acceptance of despair. There's a terrifying coldness to the song, a horrible indifference to a complete loss of self-worth. And once again that's reflected in every tiny detail, an instrumental track that stays in the background for once, the disconnected way the chorus is sung, or the way the bridge gets counted in, like he would've forgotten to sing it otherwise. 10/10, I'm at a loss for words

Our Season: This seems to be a fan favorite, but how anyone has the energy to appreciate a hopeful love song after the triple gut punch that is the middle of this album is beyond me. I'm pretty sure that this is good. Screw that, I know that it is, but I'm too emotionally burned out to care. To me, this is the calm after the storm. I don't think ending the album on Fireplace would've been right, and this about as good of a follow up as you can get. I just can't bring myself to care. 7/10, this is just nice

Where Are You: The (in)famous song about even cockroaches having lovers, what am I supposed to tell you? It's funny, it sounds like something you'd sing together at a campfire, as a joke. See, this is why Our Season needs to exist, imagine following Fireplace up with this song? And it can't be anything but last on the album, it ends with a horrible (affectionate) kazoo solo, what would you even play after that? I'm making this sound worse than it is, because as far as shitpost songs are concerned, this is up there with Woof Woof for sure. The only thing that bothers me is that this song about being a salty single, in the context of this incredibly anxious album, leaves a bit of a sour aftertaste. Because you're supposed to laugh at his pain in this one, and that's just hard to do after having listened to the terrifying extend of it just two songs prior. 8/10, someone please take the kazoo away from him

The final score for Story Op.2 is an 8.2, which beats Ker for 3rd place. I would like to say that I'm shocked, or that I feel bad for dethroning VIXX like that, but honestly? I can't. Ker is amazing, but mostly, Ker has some amazing songs. It has weak links, it has filler. And this album just doesn't. And where Ker has surprisingly good sequencing considering it's stitched together, this is just on another level. It makes such a smooth transition from melancholic to sweet and relaxing to anguished and desperate, and somehow it makes it to hilarious dark humor from there, it's insanely well crafted.

I said I'd have to comment on the vocals separately, and this is it. We all know that Jonghyun is an insanely good singer, just from a technical perspective. We also know that he liked to experiment with different styles, and that no matter what he did he'd always put a lot of personality in his lines, a bit of an extra flair in an otherwise ultra-clean genre of music. I already loved that in SHINee, and it was even more apparent on Base and She Is, but all of those are still pop productions. The Story Op albums aren't, and it shows. If the vocals have seen any kind of post-processing I cannot tell. There are some light effects, most notably in Let Me Out, but apart from that everything sounds perfectly natural. There's a part I love during the first verse of Atlantis, where you can almost hear Onew smile in the studio. Imagine that on steroids for the entirety of both albums (with the possible exception of Lonely). There is no smoothing over imperfections here, no hiding slip ups, I'm also pretty sure that they didn't take countless takes to find the best one, syllable by syllable. Of course I can't proof that, and we'll never know, but that's just not what the vocals sound like to me. If they're perfect, it's because Jonghyun was just that good. And I think if they went about any of the songs on either album like you would a pop production, none of this would work. More than the impeccable compositions and lyrics, what makes these albums work, and allowed the songs to connect with me so hard so quickly, are the vocals. They need to be raw and honest, because the songs demand for both incredible precision and the ability to convey every bit of the varied and complicated emotions the lyrics are charged with.

That makes these albums almost miraculous in my eyes. They work exactly because they were made by the right person who made all the right decisions. No one else could've written or composed this, and no one else could've sung the finished songs and do them justice either. So thank you, Jonghyun. This is brilliant work. I miss you, and you did well. You did so well.

#shinee #jonghyun #review #or more like #trying to work through the complicated emotions of discovering a great piece of art by someone you miss a lot #you did so well

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scaredyships · 4 years

Text

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. II

summary: You attempt to get settled into their new life as best as they can, and are mildly appalled at how bare-bones Mando is living.

word count: 6.5k (I guess I just don’t know how to write short things)

author’s notes: More setting the stage before progressing on to following the plot of the show. Sorgan is next chapter, I promise. But for now it's the two idiots and the tiny green gremlin getting accustomed to one another. ngl, as I got to the last little bit I just wanted to get it DONE, so apologies about any awkward writing there.

I spent so much time looking up food and kitchen-equivalents on Wookieepedia for this chapter.

Part 1 / Part 2 (you are here) // ao3 link

---

It wasn’t clear just how little you had to work with until you started to go about trying to figure out your new place as crewmate on the Razor Crest.

You’d think a full-time bounty hunter, even one that worked solo, would have a little more in storage other than the vast amount of weapons, like an extra bed roll or blankets or something. But no, not this one. He seemed more concerned with having extra firepower than additional living necessities.

You sighed, putting the lid back on the storage crate you'd opened up. You had hoped to find something other than weaponry inside, and while it wasn't exactly weapons, it sure looked like it contained canisters like the ones you saw attached to the mobile carbon-freezing unit he had on board. There were no other places to look.

Standing up straight, you turned to face the length of the hold. If you'd really wanted to, you could have tried to get Mando to let you have the space he normally reserved for housing captive bounty as a space for you to claim. But between you not having the courage, and certainly not wanting to deal with the possibility of a carbonite-frozen bounty being stored there to stare endlessly at you, it was off the table. The hold it was. It was narrow and not exactly intended as a living space, but you could make it work. There was already a dip in the wall where you stood, and with some rearranging of the crates, you could create more of a "wall" to provide some semblance of privacy - and to provide a barrier so you didn't have to deal with seeing the entire refresher unit every time you turned your head.

Unfortunately, that's where your resources ended. The closest thing Mando had to extra bedding was the rough, heavy-duty netting he kept to tie cargo down with. Hardly suitable for what you were needing. You also had no additional change of clothes. You were already starting to feel self-conscious about it, hoping you didn't start to smell funky too quickly. A shower would only go so far when your clothes hadn't been washed.

A trip to some kind of market was needed. It was a good thing Mando was already intending to stop somewhere to refuel.

You flipped open one of the pouches on your belt, pulling out its contents. Several loose credits, and a couple credit chips. Thank Maker you still had those. With your usual living expenses having significantly downsized now that you were out of a home and all the associated bills that came with it, your budget gave you much more to work with. You had more than enough to get you what you might need. You tucked your credits back into your belt.

There was one more thing you needed to check, but didn't know where it was. The pantry. There was no doubt that Mando's current stock was meant for a single adult individual, and not two adults and a small alien child, so it would need to be supplemented anyways. But what did he already have? Had he recently stocked up, or was he nearing the last of his rations?

You made your way over to the ladder that led up to the helm, where Mando was piloting to wherever he was going to stop for fuel. The kid must've heard you coming, because his head suddenly popped over the edge of the hatch to watch you, twittering curiously. You half-heartedly waved at him, hoping he didn't try to come down by himself.

"Hey, Mando!"

The heavy sound of boots hitting the floor reverberated through the ceiling and came closer to the hatch, until the reflective helmet of the bounty hunter stared down at you.

"Where's your pantry hold at?"

He stood still for just a moment, fingers twitching at his side - a nervous tic? - and then reaching for the kid, began to climb down the ladder. You stepped back and allowed him ample space to get down, and for him to set the kid down. The little green child looked around and waited to see what the two of you were up to. Mando trudged towards a panel near the armory just across from the ladder, and pushed a switch.

"Here."

A panel on the wall swished aside and a conservator was revealed, along with a small set of shelves containing tins, ration packs, and an extremely modest set of dish ware that itself looked like it had come from a military ration pack.

It was difficult to stop your eyebrows from raising to the top of your forehead. There was so little here. And what was here, was so incredibly basic that you couldn't imagine trying to live off of it for every single meal. A few packs of basic rations, a dwindling container of mealgrain. You cautiously pulled open the conservator, and it was what you expected. More basic ration packs, a single almost-empty package of some kind of sausage links, and a couple small jars of paste that could be added to water to make a basic soup. You closed the door, and leafed through the shelves' contents. There was an old heating plate in there and a small pot, and maybe enough utensils that you could count them all on one hand. Pulling out a packet of vacuum-sealed veg-meat, watching it glisten sickeningly in the light, you turned and gave the Mandalorian a pointed look as if you were waiting for an explanation.

He was trying so hard not to come off as sheepish. But the hands-on-the-hips stance and his visor turned away from you said otherwise. He'd never had anyone come on board and inspect his pantry hold before, and while he didn't think at the time it would bother him, it was completely different now that you were down on one knee, thinly-veiled disgust on your face at the food options, looking up at him with an intense expression that could surely bore a hole through his armor. Not even the kid staring at the shelves like he had an enormous buffet in front of him softened any of the situation.

"I don't know how you live like this." You lightly tossed the veg-meat back onto the shelf, standing up and righting your clothing. Mando flipped the switch to close the panel back up, the child drooping disappointedly now that everything was shut away. He crossed his arms defensively just as you rested a fist on your hip, looking down at the child and exhaling through your nose.

"Looks like I've got my work cut out for me, huh, kid."

He tilted his head questioningly at you.

"Your 'work'?" You could hear the edge of offense in his tone.

You turned that piercing gaze back to him for a moment.

"Besides being unable to find something to make myself a bed from, and needing some kind of change of clothes, your pantry is appalling and barely suitable for one adult. Let alone two plus a small child. You told me to help out, so I'm going to help out. When we stop for fuel, I'm going to go find a market." You tapped the pouch on your belt that contained your credits forcefully enough to make the loose pieces jingle, emphasizing that you had your own means of payment.

Mando sighed. He was the one that suggested you stay, so it was nobody's fault but his own that things were unfolding like this. He might as well resign himself to it.

You knew Mando would go for a backwater world of some sort, so you didn't get your hopes up for your options at any markets. Mando let you empty out a rucksack he had sitting in the hold and use it to carry what you might find. He watched as you briskly walked away with determination, as he stood at the ship dock preparing to get the Razor Crest hooked up and refueled. The Child wanted very badly to go with you, but he forbade it and made him stay in his pod, only an arm's length away and hopefully high enough off the ground that he wouldn't try to climb out and toddle off. The small green child pouted in his blankets, staring out in the direction he had last seen you.

Mando was mystified as to why the kid took such a liking to you. Sure, he seemed friendly enough towards anyone he was allowed to interact with (not that there were many, considering his status as a bounty target), but the way he was drawn to you was different. It was almost like he recognized you from somewhere, though you both knew that wasn't possible. In all honesty, he may have been more reluctant to offer you a place on board if the kid hadn't acted the way he did, and just kept his end of helping you after losing your entire livelihood to dropping you off at a nearby planet of your choosing.

It wasn't that he didn't like you, quite the opposite. In the few times he'd gone to you for information for hunting down certain quarry, you were nothing but helpful. You asked just the right questions, made sure he knew about the societies on the planets he was going to be investigating, and also gave him what you had about lesser-known places that would make for good hiding spots. You didn't ever seem afraid of him, like others could be when a fully-armored Mandalorian carrying who knows what kind of firepower came looking for something. You treated him like any other person, maybe one you'd come to consider a friend, based on how with each further visit you'd remember what kind of things he liked to know, or just useful things in general, and tailor your information packets to it. He didn't really need to know things like which fueling stations were more suited for a ship like his and had better overall service, or which markets had more selection on weaponry for restocking purchases, or which food places were better and which to avoid at all costs. But they were there when he'd plug the data stick into his navigation computer. He got the impression you didn't do that for just any client, without an extra charge at least.

You said it yourself, you didn't know much about taking care of kids. Mando didn't, either. But two people trying to figure it out was better than one stumbling around blindly. It helped to have someone the kid liked, too. And even if it didn't directly involve watching out for him, he knew you'd make yourself useful with upkeep of the Razor Crest and any other odd jobs that might need tending to.

The ship refueling took some time, but you still weren't back by the time it was finished. Mando went to the nearest food stand at the dock to buy something for the kid to eat in the meantime - a simple bowl of Mando and the kid went inside, keeping the hold ramp down and simply waiting inside, him using that time to maintain some of his more neglected firearms in the armory. He got lost in the muscle memory of taking apart each weapon, cleaning its individual pieces, and slotting everything back together to move on to the next one.

The child chirping and standing up to clutch the edge of his pram signaled your return. Mando looked up from where he was cleaning one of his blasters, probably the fourth or fifth since he started, and there you were, walking up the ramp with the borrowed rucksack stuffed full and a few bundles under your arm. You gave him a small nod of acknowledgement and made a beeline for what he could only assume was the spot you'd chosen to be "yours", dumping the bundles unceremoniously onto the floor - except one, which you held almost gingerly - and swinging the rucksack down on top of them with a huff. You plunked down beside the pile, pulling your legs up at an angle and resting your head against the hull, exhaling dramatically.

"Can we get out of here now?"

Mando had to smirk under his helmet at how comically tired you seemed. He couldn't blame you, he felt the same way after he had to deal with purchase-related errands. Standing, he put away the gun he'd been working on and shut away the armory, and issued the command for the ramp to close.

The child clambered out of his pram onto a nearby storage crate, slipping to the ground and toddling over to you and your pile of spoils. You lifted your head to watch what he was doing. Mando watched him, too, to be sure he didn't get into anything he shouldn't. Of everything he could easily try to pick through, the kid of course went straight for the bundle you still held in your lap, reaching out but not quite touching the fabric. It was oddly puffy at the top, and tied around the bottom with some sort of twine.

"Wait, wait. I'll show you, but no touching."

You undid the twine, and in doing so Mando got a glimpse of an earthenware material underneath the fabric. You shook the fabric loose, and swept it off by gripping the corner. There, balanced in the palm of your hand, was a tiny engraved pot. Inside the pot sat an equally-tiny, gnarled tree, capped with sprays of delicately bristling greenery.

You tilted the plant towards the child, wide eyes taking in the sight. A tiny claw reached up, but halted and slowly lowered at the last moment. The corner of your mouth lifted at the kid remembering to behave.

You glanced up at the Mandalorian, who you realized had been watching the interaction the whole time. You looked quickly down at the plant and picked slightly at the gravel in the pot, almost bashfully, like you were mildly ashamed of what you'd bought.

"It's not real, but I can pretend it is." Your voice was quiet. Mando remembered the sizable collection of plants that took up an entire corner of your living quarters he had broken into hardly a day or two ago. He felt a pang of something in his chest, slightly different than the sense of guilt he felt towards your situation. Sympathy, maybe?

The synthetic plant was carefully placed on top of a storage container, far from the edges so it wouldn't fall. Your quiet demeanor suddenly shifted, and a new focus appeared as you stood, grabbing the rucksack by its handle, and made your way over to open up the pantry hold and begin unpacking its contents.

"I mostly picked up things that can be indefinitely stored, so no worries about anything spoiling." You began to pull out your purchases and put them away, careful to make sure the kid didn't scoop anything up. He was too busy being enamored with watching your hand disappear into the rucksack and pull out new item after item, like you were a magician. You said the name of each thing as you put it away on either the shelves or in the conservator: Anoat oats, shroomchips, kukuia nuts, dehydrated nuna egg, jhen honey, Kodari rice, jarred garlic, Corellian buckwheat noodles... and then some vacuum-packed fresh items; redsprouts, cuts of dewback, some kind of flatbread you weren't able to immediately identify but thought looked good, and-

"- I don't know if this is the same as what you had before, but I got more of these, too." You said as you set down a package of sausages.

Truth be told, Mando wasn't at all a picky eater, and had been content with the rations he lived off of. But watching the array of ingredients fill the shelves had him feeling like he hadn't eaten right in a very long time. And he was oddly looking forward to what you might have planned.

You put away the last of the contents, mostly flavor additives, and a clear container of nuctrose crystals for the kid, given he behaved. Shutting the panel to the pantry hold, you stood back up and took the last contents from the rucksack - an odd bound stack of something, and a few styluses. They were placed next to the little tree on the crate. You shook out the rucksack so it was flat, and handed it back to the Mandalorian with a small thanks. He took it from you without a word and hung it on a hook nearby. You went back to your other bundles and began unpacking them, shaking out the bedroll and beginning to situate it.

"Once I'm done with all this, I'm going to make something to eat. Any requests?"

Mando could only shrug vaguely. You looked off to the side, eyes darting as you no doubt mentally ran through your various options now that nothing was off the table.

"Okay, then. I'll try not to make anything too awful."

The kid was at your side the moment you'd mentioned food, and was looking up at you with wide, excited eyes. You looked down at him awkwardly, movements slowing. He stared back, audibly swallowing.

"...he's not going to leave me alone, is he."

The Mandalorian shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning against the hull, amused expression hidden beneath his helmet. You suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about simply existing in that spot and Mando standing there like he was, watching your every move. He wasn't even doing anything malicious, he was just... looking. Maker, you couldn't do anything other than glance up at him for a half-second before you had to rip your gaze back to what you'd been doing before, hoping he didn't notice. This wasn’t even your standard inability to maintain a shared gaze, this was something else. It was the armor, you told yourself. You'd always thought the Mandalorian style of armor was beautifully crafted, but there was something so different about admiring it from an image and having a flesh-and-blood being inside a suit of it, standing like that just a few feet away, staring you down.

Mando, however, didn't read any of your behavior as being flustered - just uncomfortable that you were being stared at. He could appreciate that, more than you might think. As much as he might find it interesting to watch whatever else you were going to do, he knew it was more important to allow you some space. He righted himself and strode over to the ladder.

"Let the kid help you out."

He said it so matter-of-factly over his shoulder before he began to ascend that there was no doubt it wasn't a request.

You blinked, and looked down at the child. Mando needed to concentrate on piloting. So it fell to you to be on kid-watching duty. The kid blinked back up at you, ears pricked and head tilted. You moved to unwrap the next bundle.

”Alright, kiddo. Let me finish getting all this set up, then we’ll start on dinner.”

The excited squeal as the kid toddled over to the pantry hold panel to wait for you made you chuckle.

If it wasn't the aroma of cooking that got his attention, it was definitely the sound of you urgently scolding the kid with what almost sounded like terror in your voice. Mando quickly set the controls to autopilot and rushed over to the ladder, not even using the rungs to get down to the hold. The sudden sight and sound of an entire Mandalorian slamming to the floor from above startled you so badly you nearly knocked over your little makeshift kitchen area.

His gaze landed on the child, who was staring back at him with unblinking eyes as he smacked his lips like he had just been eating something. Just out of the kid's reach, was a piece of a food wrapper, covered in teeth marks and saliva, pinched between your fingers. You had a makeshift waste bin in the other hand, into which you flung the offending piece of trash. The look on your face was nothing short of disgust.

"Does he... often... try to eat garbage?"

Mando sighed deeply, swearing to himself under his breath. He should have warned you before he just left like he did to go man the controls.

"It's not the worst thing he's tried to eat." The child’s ears flicked, a hint of smugness on his face.

You chuckled nervously, setting the waste bin out of reach of the child. You wiped your hands on a nearby rag, as Mando approached to pick the child up and move him a little bit away.

The set-up you had was fairly impressive, considering what was available. You'd taken the old heating plate out and set it on top of a storage container, and repurposed a larger rations tin intended to be heated up anyways into an extra pan, so you had more to work with besides the old pot. You'd pulled out all the utensils he had and had them laid out on top of a loose scrap of fabric, and a cluster of ingredients on another. The cutting board looked new, you must've bought that earlier. The pot had something boiling in it, and the pan, while it looked empty, had something browning in the bottom that smelled delicious.

"Do you have any knives I can use?" You started to inspect one of the packages of meat you'd purchased earlier. "I need to dice some things."

The question wasn't did he have knives, the question was which ones was he willing to part with for kitchen use?

He paused, wandering over to the armory and peering pensively inside. You leaned over to try and watch what he was doing. The kid in turn watched you, no doubt hoping you might drop what you had so he could scarf it down.

Mando leaned into the armory to pick something out from its depths, and when he returned he displayed several small blades. They weren't all that tiny, but his broad hands made them look even smaller than they should be. You ignored that as best as you could. Your eyes flashed amongst the different blades, and you carefully pointed at two - a butterfly knife, and a small hunting knife. You didn’t dare just reach out and grab them yourself. With great dexterity Mando maneuvered them into one hand and the rest into the other, offering them to you with the blades flat in his hand and the handles presented. You carefully took them and set them beside your other utensils. Wordlessly he went to put the rest of the knives away.

You expected him to return to the cockpit, but he didn't. Instead, he moved to sit in the opening of the hole in the wall that was his bunk. You raised your eyebrows at him questioningly.

"Making sure you don't completely ruin my knives. Or let the kid eat more trash."

You huffed at that. Well, back to work.

The kid had wandered closer again and was intently watching as you prepared the food, cubing the meat, tossing it into the makeshift pan with a satisfying sizzle.

Mando never really cooked much for himself besides prepping a basic bowl of mealgrain with whatever ration packs he had on hand. Sometimes he'd build a fire whenever he was camped out on a planet's surface and roast skewers of food over the fire, he knew how to hunt and gather and field-dress, but nothing extravagant. Watching you work was something else. It was mesmerizing, the way you maneuvered between the "pan" and the pot you'd removed from the heat, adding whatever seasoning or extra ingredients with no hesitation, completely focused on what you were doing.

At some point, you picked a piece of the cooked meat out of the "pan" with a fork, blowing on it a few times before picking a corner off to taste-test it. You looked deep in thought as you mulled over what else it might need. With a shrug it seemed you decided it was alright as it was. You lowered the fork towards the child.

"Here, try."

The speed at which he snatched the morsel off the fork and downed it was incredible, you didn't even think he had time to taste it. The shine in his eyes and his ears perking up told you, however, that he absolutely wanted more. You gave him a pointed look.

"No, no more handouts. It's almost done, anyways."

The kid turned his head to look back at Mando, his face begging him to tell you that he needed more. He shook his head slowly, biting back a chuckle at how the kid pouted.

"Okay, I think it's done."

Somehow, in the time he had taken his eyes off of you to simply tell the kid "no", you had combined the contents of the pot and "pan" and were separating it out into portions - two of the larger bowls, and one of the smaller bowls that may have been a mug for the child. He could see better what it was - looked to be some sort of hearty stir-fry, the rice and meat you'd bought earlier being the most obvious part of the dish. Mando had already forgotten what you'd purchased in the way of vegetables and other seasonings, but the finished product was colorful and looked very appetizing, especially with the way the steam trailed slowly into the air from its surface.

The kid was visibly excited, bouncing on his little feet, and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Mando was looking forward to trying it too. What he wasn't looking forward to, though, was having to explain to you that he couldn't take his helmet off to eat, that he'd have to take his helping and go somewhere else where you couldn't see him. You'd never seen him with his helmet off, even in his own ship, so it only made sense that you'd ask about it eventually. He didn't know how much of the Mandalorian Creed you were familiar with. He expected more than most, considering your former occupation and being fairly savvy to various cultural practices, but he couldn't be sure.

"So, uh.. this might be weird..."

He braced himself internally, anticipating something being said about his helmet.

"Would you mind if I ate, uh... over there?" You jabbed a thumb towards the semi-walled off area you'd set up since he was last down there.

...he wasn't expecting that.

His confused stare probably only came off as a cold one through his helmet.

"It sounds stupid, but I have a hard time eating if I feel like I'm being watched. So that's where I'll be."

He nodded slowly. Well, that wasn't what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a bad thing. It made things a little easier, at least, with him not having to give the Talk just yet.

You took your helping in one hand, used your free hand to maneuver the smaller bowl into the child's grabbing hands, and sheepishly left to your secluded area, ducking down to sit in your newly-arranged space.

The bedroll was laid out, a pile of folded clothes sitting near the foot of it. You'd located some smaller crates, one acting as a makeshift stool, another as a low table, where you sat your bowl down for a moment to get situated. In addition to the larger crates and the dip in the hull acting as a wall, you'd also tacked up a sheet on each "side" of the hull to act as a curtain - not wide enough to completely block off the hall, but enough that there was at least more of a definitive barrier that made you feel enclosed from the rest of it. The tiny synthetic tree sat perched on the low crate-table beside some of the other odds and ends you'd procured at the market. It wasn't much, but you felt less like a temporary stowaway like this.

Once you settled down, you picked your bowl back up and were about to take a bite when a familiar green head poked around the curtain. Once he spotted you, he turned back as if he was looking to Mando for permission, and then he trundled over, his own bowl carefully clutched between his hands.

Try as you might to form words to tell the kid to please go sit with Mando, or anywhere else, every sentence dried up in your throat before you could finish it. It didn't seem like he was listening, anyways, the way he didn't even so much as glance at you while you tried to speak. He was too busy getting himself settled down on the floor, and then lifting the bowl to his face to continue eating, sticky eating sounds filling the air as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. That alone was enough to make you stop trying to tell him to go. It was almost shocking how noisy the kid could be with his food. You watched with something between fascination and the slightest bit of revulsion, slowly taking bites of your own food. He finished faster than you'd anticipated, greedily trying to lick the inside of the bowl to get the last morsels stuck to the sides, his eating utensil forgotten. Considering what you saw Mando's food supply was before you came on board, you didn't blame the kid for downing it like he did.

You, however, couldn't quite finish your meal. You had done your best with what you could, but something about the finished product left something to be desired in your opinion. You always had been critical of your own cooking, and knew what you were going for versus the actual outcome. With a brief glance towards the opening of your space, almost as if you expected Mando to appear, you took the kid's bowl and scraped what remained of your meal into it. He was almost vibrating with excitement when you handed it back to him, and you grimaced slightly as he started to scarf it down. Did his species get the equivalent of heartburn?

“That good, huh?”

He peered at you over the edge of his dish, tiny mouth working. He’d made fast work of it, putting the now-clean bowl on the ground. His bright eyes now lingered on your own bowl, like somehow he might find more food in it even though he just watched you empty its contents moments ago. Your morbid curiosity got the better of you and you held it out for him to take. The kid quickly took it from you, and with no hesitation, began to lick the inside to get the most out of it. You could feel a grimace trying to creep its way onto your face. The kid was cute, no doubt about that, but this was still a little gross to be watching.

A light rap on the side of the hull caught the attention of both of you, and there stood the Mandalorian in the gap between the hull wall and the curtain, empty dish held almost forgotten by his side. The kid greeted his caregiver with a small, yet surprisingly big for his size, burp. You swear you heard a quiet snort from Mando’s direction.

“You’d think he hasn’t eaten in days.” You nodded at the child, who was inspecting the bowl for anything else he may have missed. Mando shrugged lightly.

“He’s always excited for food.” He semi-consciously began turning his own bowl in his hands, still watching the little green one’s antics.

“Well, at least he liked it. It didn’t turn out quite like I wanted it to. Hopefully it was still okay.” While Mando had clearly finished his helping, with what he had apparently been living off of before, it was a fair assumption on your part that he didn’t care much for how things tasted - as long as they were edible. You really did try to go out of your way to make things palatable and not just edible, generally, so when you felt like you slipped up, you also felt the need to apologize.

“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.”

Truth be told, whatever you had done, it was one of the better meals Mando had had in a good while. Unfortunately for Mando, words were not at all his strong suit.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said with a brief smile. With a groan you got to your feet, stooping to gather the dish-ware and utensils you and the child had used. “These can be washed in the same place I got water from behind the refresher, right--?”

“I’ll do it.” You froze in your tracks when Mando stopped you and took the things from your hands. “I’ll get the other things you used, too.” He motioned vaguely back towards where your kitchen set-up had been.

“You sure? I made the mess, I’d be okay with cleaning it up.”

The prolonged stare from the unreadable visor told you that this was not up for debate.

“...okay, if you insist.” You let yourself sink back to where you’d been sitting. The Mandalorian disappeared from your field of view beyond the curtain, and the sound of him gathering up the rest of the kitchenware and making his way to the washing area made its way to your ears. There was a quick-cleaning rack back there for exactly this kind of thing, and you could hear him loading it.

Never in your life had you expected to picture someone as stoic as this bounty hunter, doing something as domestic as washing dishes. You bit the inside of your lip to suppress snickering to yourself about it. The kid looked questioningly at you, head tilted. That alone was enough for you to crack a smile and snort.

That snort morphed into a yawn, and you realized just how tired you were. It had been a long day, dealing with people at the market, setting up your new “room”, and cooking a meal from scratch. Not to mention, the turmoil of losing your home was still a raw wound. You noticed the heavy feeling beneath your eyes that told you it was well past time for a good rest.

“Well, kid, I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.” You nonchalantly began taking your boots off, other items that would undoubtedly be uncomfortable following - your belt, your wrist pieces, some of your outerwear that would get too warm too quickly once you dozed off. The child curiously watched as you placed these things in a small pile by the crate acting as a table.

With a sigh that almost sounded like you were deflating, you laid down on the bedroll and turned onto your side. It wasn’t anything like your old bed. You hadn’t expected it to be, but the difference between your old broken-in bed and this imitation of a cot laid out on a hard, metal floor, really drove home that things were different now, with no going back. You closed your eyes, exhaling softly through your nose, the melancholy settling in now that you were more or less alone with your thoughts.

You felt a light touch on your temple, and opened your eyes to have your field of vision filled with a big pair of dark eyes staring back. The child had wandered closer and had touched his tiny clawed hand to your face, and was looking at you with concern, as if he could sense those emotions that were starting to roll around your head. You gave him a thin-lipped smile, reaching out to pat him on the head.

“I’m okay, kid, just tired.”

He made a small noise that sounded almost sad, and you didn’t miss the slight droop in his ears as he gave you a pat in return. Your smile turned a little more genuine at that.

You closed your eyes again, and quicker than you’d ever managed to before, you drifted off.

Mando took his time putting things away. When it was just himself, and the kid, there was a lot less clean-up involved. With the quality of what you’d made, though, extra clean-up was a reasonable trade-off.

Clattering noises from your corner caught his attention. It didn’t sound like organized rummaging, more like the noise made when a womp rat was going through things looking for food. He sighed. It must be the kid up to something. Why you weren’t stopping him, he didn’t know.

He put extra weight into his footsteps to make sure the kid could hear him coming, and hoped that would be enough to get him to stop. As he pushed the curtain out of the way, he was met with the sight of the child quickly turning to make eye contact - the pouches of your belt clutched in his hands with the rest of the strap tossed over his arm, and what must have once been a more organized pile of your other accessories messily pushed around. And then there was you, laid out on your bedroll, eyes closed as you slept.

Even in sleep you managed to look exhausted, but at peace. Your form was curled in loosely on itself, somewhere between defensive and haphazard, like you had fallen in that position. The crease between your eyebrows had smoothed out and was nearly invisible. You breathed deeply through your nose, almost snoring. You had a hand wedged between your face and pillow, squishing your cheek up and distorting your features.

Mando had seen plenty of people asleep. It was usually a restless sleep, followed by waking in a state of terror when they realized there was a blaster pointed at them and he was there to take them in for a bounty.

Seeing you in a genuine state of relaxation, completely vulnerable, was jarring. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t even let himself get to that point when he rested.

With everything you’d dealt with lately, though, you deserved to have a good, deep sleep. You were safe here on the Razor Crest with him.

The Mandalorian shook himself mentally from watching your sleeping form. It was strange to be staring like he was. He bent down on one knee to untangle the child from your belt and lift him carefully. The little one cooed, looking up at the armored man questioningly.

“Come on, kid. Let’s give them some space.” He stood back up, shifting the child into one arm and leaving as quietly as he could. The little one peeked over Mando’s shoulder at you until you were out of his line of sight, and then swiveled around to watch where he and the bounty hunter were headed.

Very carefully, the child was maneuvered into his sling so Mando could climb up the ladder to the cockpit with both hands. Once on his feet again, the child was deposited into his pram, and Mando took his place in the pilot’s seat.

Now that there was fuel in the tank and supplies on board for everyone, it was time to get back to finding somewhere to hide out.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #din djarin #mando #reader insert

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Night Adventures in an Unlikely Maze of Blue and Yellow

Hiiiii guys. This is for @batwngs, the MVP of leaving the best comments ever and being generally an amazing person. I still have trouble closing my imagines so nevermind the underwhelming ending. Anyway enjoy the probably sweetest thing I’ve ever written, it’s really really really freakin’ cute.

Masterlist in bio // pinned

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader

Word count: 3174

Warnings: none beside mentions of doing the do and one (1) innuendo

Summary: While most people would qualify married life as boring, having Dick Grayson for a husband turns the most mudane task into an adventure. This is the story of one shopping trip turned into a teenage dream (Katy Perry can suck it up)

You were making breakfast when you heard it.

The sound of the coffee brewing and the sizzling pan were singing the beginning of a new day, harmonizing with your soft humming of a song you had heard on the radio the day before. The sun basked the whole kitchen in golden sun and warmed your back through your fluffy robe, so much you never wanted to leave this spot. You closed your eyes, taking in the peace you had long seeked. But then, it was interrupted by a loud crash and a high pitched scream.

You perked up, turning down the stovetops and rushing to the bathroom. Luckily, your husband never kept the door locked. In fact, it was wide open when you came in. You reached the shower handle and pulled it open with all the concern in the world, only to see Dick with a pout on his pretty face.

“Dick” You frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“This is the worst thing that happened to me” He almost sobbed. Your concern spiked.

“What happened?” You asked. “Are you hurt?”

“My toes...” His pout intensified as he pointed behind him. “The rack broke and all the bottles fell on my feet”

The sudden stress and concern fell, only to be replaced by your incredulous expression. You shouldn’t have been surprised by his blown out of proportion reaction, but again, Dick was probably the most dramatic person you knew. Punch him, shoot him, beat him up to an inch of his life, the guy will shake it off and get back on his feet. Minorly inconvenience him? You’ll never hear the end of it.

“You big baby” You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be fine”

“You won’t join me and make it better?” He now gave you his puppy eyes, opening his arms. You had to admit, it was hard not to cave in and go hug the giant toddler. “I’m hurt”

“You’ll get over it” You tried to say sternly, but a small smile still made it past you. “I’m going to finish breakfast now”

“Don’t forget--”

“Your cereals yes I know”

“You’re the best” He yelled after you as you closed the shower door. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

You went back to the kitchen and turned on the stove tops again, taking care of the hashbrowns and bacon awaiting for your return in their pans. While they cooked, you cut oranges and melons, poured Dick’s favourite cereals in a bowl and put a cup of oat milk right beside. You started the eggs when you heard Dick come out of the bathroom, and managed to have everything ready on the table seconds before he came walking in in his own matching robe, his hair all damp and face shaved.

“Smells amazing in here” He announced loudly.

You walked to him and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled of aftershave and jasmine shower gel. “Just in time”

Dick paused in his steps and stared at the full table with childish wonder. Then, his beautiful, almost sparkling eyes found yours. “What did I do to deserve you? And most importantly what would I do without you?”

“You were very handsome and convincing” You answered the first question with a sly smirk. “And probably dead in a ditch”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but closed his mouth when nothing came out. “Probably dead in a ditch, yeah” He admitted, before his gorgeous smile graced his features again. “Thank you for breakfast babe”

“You’re very welcome” You gladly accepted the quick peck on your lips, and laughed as he hurried to the table. You followed him and sat in front of him, watching as he piled food on his plate, unimpressed. You had been caught short handed when you first started dating, foolishly making food for two people like the boy didn’t eat enough to match a small village. But now you knew the trick and would never make that mistake again; you had to cook for a family of four. It was of utter most importance at breakfast, because he always woke up hungry. You didn’t mind though, because nobody appreciated your food more than him. You’d always get a ‘thank you’ before and after each meal, and he’d usually drop positive comments while he ate as well.

Cooking for Dick Grayson was gratifying, to say the least.

“What?” He asked right after he shoved a spoonful of cereals on his mouth. “Why you shtaring?”

“Don’t worry about it” Your smile widened as you shook your head.

“It makes me shelf conschious”

“Aw baby” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t be. You’re cute when you eat cereals”

He smiled wide, chewed cereal and milk pouring out of his mouth and onto his chin. You averted your eyes from the disaster and sighed.

“I walked into that one” You mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. “Should have known. That’s on me”

“Sorry” He half heartedly apologized, the laughter in his voice evident. “You can look again now, I swallowed”

You slowly trailed your glance on him, sending him a silent warning not to add a sexual joke to it. He visibly wanted to, but instead chose the prudent way and held his hands in defense of his innocence. You nodded slightly in satisfaction and served yourself breakfast, or what was remaining of each plate. You had enough however, since Dick knew exactly how much you needed and took care of leaving your preferred quantity. How thoughtful of him.

“So, I guess we’ll need to go to Ikea to replace that shower rack” You spoke up once you knew his hunger rush had calmed down. “We can go this afternoon if you’ve got nothing to do”

“Oooh, I wanted to buy candles for the living room” He nodded. “Heard they got new ones. Yeah, we can go this afternoon”

“Cool” You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. “There’s always less people near closing anyway, so that way we’ll avoid the crowds”

“Brilliant” He pointed, nodding along. “I hate when they’re all gathered around the Rättviken and you can’t even see your Pilkån”

You laughed at his exaggerated mannerism and his pretentious eye roll over his botched swedish accent, then finished your breakfast in comfortable silence. Whoever tried to scare you about married life when you were younger was clearly missing on something amazing, or was dead wrong, because you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

Some might say going to Ikea in disguise might be a little excessive.

But you and Dick knew better. The number of times you were accosted by either journalists raising to the opportunity to grab a quick interview taped on their phones or nosy citizens looking for a peek of Gotham’s finest son to show off on their instagram feed was enough for you to take measures to ensure your privacy. You didn’t exactly mind, in fact, you thought it was kind of funny. However, sometimes you wanted to be left alone to your candle and shower rack shopping.

Today was one of these days.

Hence, the baseball caps and sunglasses that would follow you even inside away from the sun rays, and away from unwanted attention. Dick suggested he wore his fake mustache, but you deemed it unnecessary for this not so delicate operation. Arms linked together, you entered the swedish domestic heaven and began snooping around the showrooms, pointing out what you liked better and styles you would definitely consider if your house hadn’t been entirely redecorated when you bought it some years ago.

“We should buy an apartment just so we can recreate those rooms” You said as you paused in front of a beautiful study. “That would be fun”

“How about we just buy the show rooms so we can go whenever we want?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, good point” You grinned, then let it fall. “If only we had more than negative ten dollars in between us both”

“But then,” He began, glancing at you. “The same problem arises for the apartment option. We’d still be broke”

You blinked a few times, then sighed. “Then we’ve got no choice” You stared at him through his sunglasses. “We gotta steal the showrooms and make a run for it”

You held for two more seconds before you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. The few people in the store looked at you like you were crazy, but you cared very little for them and their opinions. The facts were you had fun and they didn’t. You moved along to the bedrooms, where the big fluffy beds just called your name. Like your minds were connected, you and Dick both launched yourself on the king sized mattress in the orange tinted room. You bounced like you weighed a feather, then sank into the memory foam that would guarantee a good night of sleep to anyone bringing the mattress home.

“I’m comfy here” Dick scooted closer to you, reaching for your waist to cuddle and burying his face in your neck. “Don’t wanna leave”

“Babe” You giggled, half heartedly pushing him away from you. You knew it was impossible to move him if he didn’t want to be moved. “We’re gonna get kicked out of the store if we get caught cuddling”

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes, and before you could strategize to stop whatever plan he acted in his mind, he somehow pulled you from the middle of the bed and used his vigilante stealth to carry you inside a closet, shutting the door behind him. Your face was flushed at the sudden rolling and spinning, and he only had a shit eating grin you could see all too well even in the dark.

“What the hell?” You whisper-screamed. “We could have been seen!”

“Nope” He seemed so proud of himself. “Made sure of it”

“Cameras?”

“Blind spot” He replied. “I checked everything. I’m a pro, babe”

You kept glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “I hate you”

“Uh huh” He gave you a small, unconvinced nod, knowing all too well it wasn’t even close to be true. “That’s why you stormed off the closet the second after I brought you here… Oh wait”

“Smart ass” You lightly slapped his chest, a small smile creeping on your lips. You kind of enjoyed the thrill of hiding out somewhere anybody could burst in at any moment, and you definitely didn’t dislike the proximity to your husband. Even if you were married, his close presence still made your heart do backflips.

“Your smart ass” He corrected, giving you once again his puppy eyes. Well, you couldn’t actually see his eyes, but the tilt of his head and the slight jut of his lower lip all pointed to his famous facial expression that got him virtually anything. And you were far from immune to it. So naturally, you leaned in for a kiss, knowing it was what he was begging for this time.

And just like that, you were making out like two teenagers in the janitor closet.

It was messy, teeth clashed and giggles interrupted the motions more than not. Dick bumped his head at least twice on the bar above him and you almost fell down on your ass if it hadn’t been from Dick holding you. Hands got grabby and before you knew it, the temptation to make articles of clothing fly like fireworks brought you back to reality. You reluctantly broke the kiss, still giggling as he definitely didn’t want to leave your lips just yet. He whined when he realized you weren’t coming back.

“Hey, hold on cowboy” You chuckled, holding his shoulder. “If we keep going on like that, we’ll end up making a baby inside this closet”

The playful expression came back, along with a dash of flirting. His hand caressed your arm. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes” You deadpanned. “Because you would name the baby like, Songesand or something”

He gasped. “I would never name my child after Ikea furniture”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re not naming our baby Björn either”

He paused, caught in the headlights. You knew him so well he was becoming predictable. “But then how will people know he was conceived in swedish furniture?”

“You dork” You poked his chest, making the grin return on his face. “Obviously we let people know by having an ABBA reference in his middle name”

He laughed loudly, but you didn’t care whether or not you got caught. You were having too much fun. “Please marry me now”

“Sorry, already taken” You tsked, showing your ring. The one he put on your finger on your wedding day. “But he’s a cool guy, maybe I could talk to him about us seeing each other”

“Nah, he’s a jerk” He brushed off. “I’d rather have you all to myself”

He was about to kiss you again when you heard the lights going off. It was already dark in the closet, but there was no doubt, the main lights had been shut down. Your eyes widened as you stared at each other for a moment in surprise, until Dick grabbed his phone in his back pocket and checked the time. He turned the phone to you, letting you read the clock screaming 17:45 at you.

“Uh oh” You bit your lip. Fifteen minutes after closing. “They’re closing already? Shouldn’t they do a check up before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe the employees got some places to be?”

“Who’s got places to be on a Tuesday night?”

“Nightwing?”

“So the employees are all vigilantes?”

“Maybe, we can’t know for sure”

“Sure, okay. So we’re locked in?”

“Yup”

You took off your cap and sunglasses. “Guess we won’t need these anymore”

“Come on” He said as he also took off his semi disguise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about getting locked in an Ikea for the night?”

“I have actually” You pointed out. “It’s both my dream and my nightmare depending on who I’m there with”

“And I’m..?”

“Oh definitely nightmare” You replied in a serious tone, and his eyebrows raised. “Just kidding, being locked in here with you was on my bucket list”

“Attagirl!” He laughed, pushing open the closet like he realized you didn’t need to be hiding in there anymore. The store now had an eerie feeling, something on the other side of the vibe spectrum than it would usually be. It felt like you had crossed in another dimension narnia style. “This is gonna be fun”

“Where do we start?” You asked, stretching your legs. You had gotten a cramp from being all folded up in the closet. “Bathrooms? Living rooms?”

“Guards’ round” The mischief in his eyes returned, and just like that you were remembered you also would have to evade a guard. “We find out where he starts, how fast he makes his round, where he’s looking more carefully. Then we begin the cat and mouse game”

“Sounds like a plan” You nodded, then watched him perk up at something above your shoulder.

He put a finger against his lips and stared down the hallway until you heard the shuffling of keys. How he managed to hear it long before you did would forever remain a mystery to you. In a blink, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun around behind the very wardrobe you were hiding in minutes ago. You put a hand against your mouth to hold back the giggle that threatened to reveal your presence, and it didn’t help that you could feel Dick’s grin on the skin of your neck. He only turned you around in his arms when he was sure the guard was far enough.

“All clear” He confirmed, a boyish expression gracing his features. Yup, you definitely felt like a teenager sneaking around where you shouldn’t. The thrill was a refreshing spin to your routine. “Where to?”

“Hmm” You hummed, tilting your head. “Cap on the living rooms?”

Without warning, he grabbed your hand and took off running in the opposite direction from the security guard and toward the beginning of the Ikea maze. You almost let out a squeal of surprise, but managed to keep it down for the sake of your stealth operation. He only slowed down once you reached the area, letting go of your hand to jump on a couch. He threw his arm over his head and adopted a dramatic pause.

“My love, thee life shall be intertwined withet mine for the ends of times”

“Oh my dearest Eleanor” You joined in, adopting a much lower tone to match his higher one. You kneeled in front of him. “I taketh the oath to love you forever”

“Even if my corset is not made of real lace?”

You gasped. “How could you lieth to me such way?”

Dick was about to reply something even stupider when you were interrupted.

“Who’s there?”

“Oh shit” You hissed, grabbing Dick’s wrist and sprinting away. You were just getting to the good part of your goofing.

“The English, they’re invading!” He yelled loud enough to be sure the guard chasing you heard. “Ring the bell, wake the men, hide the tea!”

“Hey come back!” The guard, well, a different one, chased after you. You didn’t plan on having two of them making rounds. “You can’t be here!”

“You’ll never take us alive!” You added before you took a shortcut through the living room appliances to try and gain ground, then glanced at Dick. “If you have any vigilante disappearance act, now would be the time honey”

“I’m trying to spot an exit point--oh there”

You were yanked through an employees only zone, from where you easily found the door for the outside smoking zone. You could hear the security guard behind, but you were too fast. You came to a halt in front of the fence, hesitating. You were able to more or less follow Dick at a running pace, but you were in no way an acrobat or parkour expert. Dick, knowing this, didn’t waste time grabbing your waist and lifting you above it and jumping suit. You then ran straight back to Dick’s car and drove quickly out of the parking lot towards your home.

“Oh my god” You laughed in disbelief. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done”

He laughed heartily. “You’ve always wanted to see what patrol was like as Nightwing, this is as close as it gets without doing the real thing”

“I mean, beside the role play probably”

“Hmm no, it happens more often than you would think” He nodded. You kept staring at him for a moment, but he was serious. Well, after a small reflexion, and knowing his family, the surprise kind of fell apart. It made sense.

“We should do this every week” You declared. “It was fun!”

“Told ya it would” He winked.

“With all of this though,” You began, suddenly thoughtful. “We did forget the shower rack”

“And the candles!” He gasped. “Not the candles!”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson

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anyarally · 3 years

Text

Logan Meets a Mer

Sanders Sides Fanfiction Virgil X Logan (Analogical) 3,133 Words Ao3 Link

Logan was out on the sea yet again, dragged along with Roman and his self-proclaimed ‘merry crew’. He usually stuck to the lower decks, at his desk trying to study and write about any new findings he procured on these trips, but Roman called him and Remus, his co-captain and twin brother, up to the upper deck for a ‘bffs meeting’ as Remus called them. Or, you know, a top-secret meeting for the higher ranks, but tomato tomato. Little did he know he'd see something unbelievable that day.

Logan sighed, putting a ribbon in his journal and his quill in his ink jar and going upstairs to where Roman and Remus were.

“Sir, this really isn’t a great time, I was about to-“

“Specs! How many times do I have to tell you now to call us sir! We think of you as an equal.”

“Yeah Logie-bear! Just because we’re captains and you’re not and we’re cool and you’re lame doesn’t mean we’re better than you!”

“Well, sirs,” Logan adjusted his glasses, “maybe if either of you simply called me my name, I wouldn’t be so inclined to not call you yours either.”

Roman loudly clapped his hands together, “Anyway! I have some very important and top-secret news for you all!”

“We have some top-secret news for you all! Jesus, Roman!”

Logan cleared his throat, “First of all, if both of you knew it shouldn’t be ‘you all’. Secondly, could you two please just tell me?”

“God, Logan, you’re no fun! Whatever,” Remus led the way to the back of the upper deck, pulling back a curtain to something Logan had never seen before. And that was saying something.

Logan looked up, mouth agape, at a merman. He always assumed they were just legend, he could barely believe his eyes. He slowly walked up to him, but when the merman started hissing he stopped advancing. The merman had short shoddily cut hair, giant pointy teeth, beautiful dark scales that shined purple in the light, left eye purple, right eye green, and scales on his face, specifically under his eyes.

“I, erm, you’re… magnificent.” Logan gaped, looking up at the mer.

The mer only hissed again, but if Logan hadn’t been so flustered himself he would’ve noticed the red forming on the fleshy parts of his face. Then, suddenly, the beautiful creature screamed .

A demonic double voice emanates from the beautiful beast, causing Logan, Roman, and Remus to hurriedly cover their ears. Eventually, it got high enough to break a glass mug, and then the mer took a break to breathe some.

Once he was done, Remus took down the net and looked at the two agape men, “Let’s get him downstairs. We don’t want the rest of the crew to see him.”

Logan and Roman nodded, finally broken from the trance, and helped Remus carry the now exhausted mer.

They laid him down in the tub for now, and Roman and Remus left, leaving Logan to watch him.

Logan scanned over the beautiful creature with his eyes, noticing his chest moving up and down. He has lungs. Good. He gently brushed his fingers against his tail, noticing the scales don’t feel… healthy. If he had been with the brothers when they caught the merman, he would’ve thrown him right back overboard. It’s dangerous and harmful to keep native sea life for too long, even though Logan wanted to study it far more than the crew presumably wanted to sell his scales.

Logan sighed, went to his room, got his journal and quill, and came into the bathroom to sit on the floor and write until the mer wakes up.

Sure enough, after about an hour and a half, the beautiful merman woke up. He slowly blinks his eyes open, but when he sees Logan, immediately starts hissing.

“Shh! You don’t want the boys to come!”

The mer turned his head in a questioning manner but ultimately quieted down.

Logan let out a relieved breath, “Thank you. Now, can you understand me?”

In response, he got a garbled mess of what sounded like dolphin noises? But then the mer coughed and replied, “Sorry, haven’t talked above water in awhile.”

“Fascinating! Do you have a name? Have you been above water before? Are your scales supposed to feel like that? Why do you have hair? Is heterochromia rare for merfolk too? Do baby mers nurse? How-”

“Hold up, you need to calm down like holy shit humans can talk. My name is Virgil. That’s all you really need to know right now.”

Logan sighs, “I suppose. Nice to meet you, Virgil, I’m Logan.” he held out his hand for Virgil to shake, and he just looked at it. “Very well, I understand your lack of trust towards me. If it means anything to you, if I were on the upper deck when you were caught, I wouldn’t have let them bring you on the ship.”

“Them?”

“Roman and Remus, the co-captains of this ship.”

“Co-captains?” Virgil said skeptically.

“I know, it’s idiotic, but their father only had one ship to give and they kept arguing about who could own it, eventually coming to the consensus that they could both be captain.”

They talked back and forth for about half an hour when Virgil started scratching at his scales. Logan grabbed his hand, and Virgil yanked it back aggressively, gently cradling it close to his chest.

“Apologies, I’m aware you’re not fond of… touch from me. I was simply trying to stop you from scratching, it can’t be good for you.”

“It gets this way when it hasn’t been in saltwater for too long.” Virgil snapped, anger clear in his tone.

Logan looked away, mumbling something.

“L? What was that?”

“Could I, erm, would you like me to let you go?”

“Dude that’s literally all I’ve wanted this whole time.”

“Oh. Ah, I see, you never said so.”

“I never thought you would say yes, and I thought my tone gave it away!”

“Apologies, again, I have trouble with emotions and tone and such,” there’s a long stretch of awkward silence, which Logan interrupts with, “anyway, escaping?”

“Oh, uh, yeah man I’d love that.”

“Very well. It’s almost sundown, after then the twins will go to the lower decks for supper and likely a party with the crew, then bed. It will not be suspicious for me to miss this, I rarely come anyway. If we stay quiet, they should not suspect a thing, and even if they hear my footsteps they will assume I’m coming out to look at and chart the stars like I do most nights. As long as we can hide the sound of your tail, we should be set.”

“That’s too many ‘should’s for me to be comfortable with. But, it’s the best plan we’ve got I guess.”

“Indeed.”

That night, everything surprisingly went off without a hitch. Logan managed to get Virgil off the side of the boat unharmed and undetected, but the next morning is where things get a little rough.

Logan looked out at the sea, sighed, and went back to his room. No going to sleep at this point, Logan decided to sit at his desk and write.

‘Sea Log #9.18 (CONT.)

Today, I met a rare creature I previously believed was simply a myth. I suppose the best name for him would be a merman.*

His scales were dark with a purple shine to him, and he thankfully was willing to answer some of my questions eventually,** but on this page, I have chosen to focus on this particular merman’s personality.

Once he trusted me enough to start speaking (English, surprisingly), he told me his name was Virgil. I learned that he doesn’t have many friends under the sea, just one best friend and a brother. His best friend’s name is Janus, he’s half eel as opposed to the more fish-like features Virgil has. His brother’s name is Patton, he’s very similar to Virgil, just with a blue shine to him and different scale placement on his face. He mentioned Patton’s vision is very bad, perhaps I could find a way to get a prescription and make waterproof glasses of some kind.

What am I saying, I likely will not see Virgil again, much less his family. I helped him escape, and I do not regret it.

Apologies, that was a falsehood. I do regret it, but not for the reasons I normally would. I feel something for this merman. I do not entirely know what, but it is something. I do know that I miss him. I miss him in a different way than I miss my work on land, closer to the way I miss my mother and Sparky, but still not quite.

I have made sure to leave space at the bottom of this page, so I will add more later. I believe Roman and Remus may be able to help me with this, but I will have to wait to ask. I didn’t bring any books on psychology along on this trip, and I suspect the twins will be less than pleased at me letting the merman go.

*double-check and correct if needed at a later date

**diagram and explanations on next two-page spread (pages 19-20)

Satisfied with his journal entry, Logan put his quill away and closed his journal, putting it away on the shelf above his desk.

He stretched his arms and glanced into his bathroom, seeing the light coming out and realizing he unintentionally pulled yet another all-nighter.

Sighing, he changes his clothes anyway to make it seem like he had slept, fixed his hair in the mirror, and started heading to the upper deck.

“Lo-lo! You’re finally up!”

“Sir, the sunrise just happened.”

“Ugh, you’re such a downer! Hey, where’d that mer get off to? I haven’t seen it since yesterday.” Roman asked whilst cleaning his sword.

“Sir, he is gone.”

“Gone?! Gone where?!” Remus screamed, Roman paused in his cleaning.

“I, ahem, I let him go.”

“You. WHAT.” Roman loudly stated in the most intimidating voice Logan had ever heard.

“Sir, it was inhumane to keep him here, you must know that.”

“It wasn’t human, Logan! Remus, throw him in a holding cell, we can’t trust him anymore.”

“Wait, sir-” muffled pleas continued to come from Logan as Remus muffled his mouth with his hand.

“Okie-dokie bro-bro!”

Remus quickly threw Logan into a cell, easily ignoring Logan’s cries as he did so. Logan wasn’t particularly known for his brawn, it wasn’t very hard to overpower him.

Remus waltzed on out, whistling as he went.

“Remus, didn’t Logan take the merman to his quarters?”

“Yeah, I think so, should we go check them out?”

Check them out, they did. In his quarters, the co-captains found his journal and Remus of course had no problem invading the sailing master’s privacy, so he opened it up immediately, flipping to the most recent page. On it, Remus saw a two-page spread of the merman, and when he went to the page before, his eyes widened.

“Roman, come here for a second.”

“What is it, Ree? You never use my whole name,” Roman looks over Remus’s shoulder, “holy shit. Remus, I think I’ve got a plan.”

They smirked at each other, taking the journal and going to the cell Logan was being held in.

“Hey, specs!” Roman yelled, causing Logan to quickly look up.

“Look what we found!” Remus holds the journal above his head mockingly.

Roman yanks the book out of Remus’s hand, “‘ I miss him in a different way than I miss my work on land, closer to the way I miss my mother and Sparky, but still not quite.’ You’re clearly in love with him, nerd! He must at least trust you, with all the personal info he gave you, so I think you’d make for perfect bait!”

“Wait, no! You can’t hurt him! It’s not our place, he belongs in the ocean!”

“Ooh, and maybe this Janus and Patton will come too, they sound pretty!”

“No! You can’t!”

The two twins just laughed. Remus opened the door to the cell and grabbed him, holding him while Roman put handcuffs on him, and then bringing him back to the upper decks. Once they get up there, Remus pushes Logan, making him stumble forwards, stepping on a net trap and effectively trapping him.

“Stop this at once! It’s not ethical! It’s not humane!”

“You can just say ‘right’ you know! Ugh, even when you’re dying you’re the biggest nerd in the seven seas,” Roman laughs while Remus just looks to the side.

Roman pulls a lever, pulling the net holding Logan up above their heads and putting him above the ocean.

“No!” Logan grunts, chained wrists grabbing the ropes.

“Yeah, keep that mouth talking, specs! The louder you yell, the faster that thing will come for you!”

Out of spite, the sailing master stays completely silent, not even moving enough to rustle the ropes.

He stays quiet for almost two hours, the co-captains trying everything they could think of without moving him from above the water to make the poor man yell, only making the ropes make some noise.

Eventually, Roman realizes he could look in Logan’s ship log for info on mers, and sees that they have an incredible sense of smell, especially when it comes to prey. They can apparently smell the blood of their prey and their friends, easily differentiating between them.

Roman smirked as he showed the line to Remus, but he just looked away again, “Ro, are you sure about this? I mean… I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“What are you talking about Ree, we need those scales!”

Remus raised his voice, alerting Logan of the argument, “No, you need those scales! I don’t care, Roman!”

“Oh fuck you, Remus. I’ll do it myself.”

Roman uses the lever to bring Logan close. He grabs his foot, yanking it through one of the squares in the net. Grabbing the boot and throwing it into the ocean, Roman uses his dagger and quickly slices the back of the struggling man’s ankle, hitting an artery before he levers him back over the water.

Logan tries to pull his foot back in the net but just ends up making the blood come out quicker.

Off in the distance, they hear a scream. Logan looks out to see a giant splash of water and what looks like but a black spec in the distance. He gulps.

The almost demonic screeching gets louder and louder until they see a giant splash right beside Logan’s net.

Virgil jumped up like a dolphin, doing a flip and diving back in, screeching the whole time. When he resurfaces to the right of Logan’s net, he hovers with the water just under his eyes for a second, and as he rises so his mouth is above water, two mers pop up behind him.

The one on the right of him has green and yellow scales covering the left half of his head, an eel eye on that side and a human eye on the other. The creature has long dark green hair growing out of the human half of his head which floats around him at the top of the water.

The other looks a lot like Virgil, with similar skin and hair tones, but instead of black scales with a purple shine, he has a grey tail with a blue shine to them. His scales also didn’t accumulate in certain spots like Virgil’s, they were speckled all over his face, like freckles.

“Virgil! You have to leave! It’s a trap!”

Virgil looked up towards the yell, eyes widening at the state Logan’s in. His bloody foot, broken glasses, his bruised cheek, and his reddened handcuffed wrists anger Virgil to the core. He sternly but lovingly says, “It’s okay Lo, we’ll get you out of there.” Virgil turns back to the co-captains, “Let him go, or we’ll sink your ship and take him ourselves!”

“Or,” Roman pulls out a pistol, mahogany with gold accents, and aims it at Logan, “We could shoot him now, and no one wins! Or I suppose you could give yourself and your little buddies over and he lives, whichever you prefer.” Roman smirks.

Remus gasped as he pulled out the gun and aimed it at Logan. “Ro, aren’t we taking this too far? We can’t kill Logan, right?”

“We’ll be fine without a sailing master for a couple days, Ree, we’ll kidnap a new one soon enough.”

“Roman, that’s not why and you know it!”

“Jesus Christ, Remus, we’re not gonna just give up mer scales for your stupid crush!”

“Why you-“ Remus growled, tackling Roman, making his finger slip and shoot the gun.

Time seemed to slow down for Logan as he did his best to get out of the way, the bullet hitting his shoulder. He yelled out, and Virgil screeched.

Virgil looked to the co-captains, eyes turning black, but was surprised to see Roman unconscious on the ground.

When everyone was shocked by the gunshot, Remus had hit Roman in the head with the butt of his dagger, effectively knocking him unconscious.

Remus and Virgil made eye contact, Remus sighing, “If I get the net into the water, can you help him? We don’t have a doctor.”

Virgil almost couldn’t hear Remus’s uncharacteristically quiet voice, but responded with a nod, “My brother knows healing magic.”

“Good.” Remus cut the rope to the net, making it fall into the water with a giant splash.

Virgil and the other mers immediately dove under, Virgil getting to the net first and cutting Logan free with his sharp teeth.

“Janus, cast the spell.”

“Got it,” the eel mer closed his eyes and brought his webbed hands to his temples, opening his now glowing eyes and saying, “KFIV VMVITB MLG HPRM ZMW YLMV IRHRMT ORPV GSV HSVKZIW GLMV.”

Logan opened his eyes and gasped, breathing water, and looked around confusedly. When he reached out for his glasses, he put more strain on his bullet wound, making more blood to float out of it and disappear into the water.

Virgil grabbed Logan’s glasses and handed them to him, continuing to scoop him up in his arms. “Shh, you’re okay now. I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re somewhere safe. Patton?” he held Logan out to the mer with a blue shine.

Patton nodded, gently touching Logan’s uninjured arm. Logan watched in amazement as the injuries on his arm and ankle went through an accelerated healing process, the bullet floating out of his arm and both wounds closing up until they were simply scars.

Virgil thanked the now panting Patton and closed his eyes as giant shadows enveloped the three merfolk and one human, transporting them away from Roman and Remus’s ship.

Don't freak out, there will be a sequel! It'll probably be in a bit though. I've already picked a prompt for it and a basic story outline though, so it's happening! Sorry this last chapter is so short, I just really felt that's where it ends. Oh and just an fyi Logan is (or was lol) Roman and Remus's sailing master, but he was not kidnapped! Pirates often kidnap sailing masters but Logan was there willingly. :) Everyone who read this story, you get a cookie! Anyone who solves the cipher gets a second cookie! Prompt: Trapped in a net

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skzsauce01 · 4 years

Text

The Trials and Tribulations of Birthday Presents

Synopsis: Chan’s birthday is only three hours away, and you, his loving girlfriend, still don’t have a gift for him. Modern magic AU because it’s October.

Warning: one instance of calling and driving flying (please don’t do this!)

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: fem!reader x Bang Chan

What does one find in a magic shop?

Fat wax candles, decks of tarot cards, and antique spellbooks, just to name a few. If the shop is particularly well stocked, there may be rare potion ingredients like bottled lightning and threads of moonlight.

Despite all the fascinating things available, the very magic shop you work at has nothing for your particular dilemma: a suitable gift for your beloved. In other words, there are only three hours left before your boyfriend’s birthday, and you still have no idea what to get him.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you mutter to yourself.

The minute hand of giant clock face mounted to the oak paneling wall ticks, reminding you that time is of the essence and something you have naught of. If only you knew a time wizard; then you could allow yourself to panic and avoid the problem for a few hours longer.

The black cat perched at the register counter beside you flicks his tail, making the pages flutter. “We do have an aisle dedicated to gifts, you know.”

“There’s nothing good there!” you wail.

Glass candle holders and generic happiness potions don’t scream “I cherish you and the day of your birth greatly!” Though the specialty potions shop across town could probably make you one that literally screams that…

You bat the absurd idea and the cat’s tail away, making it hiss at you as a result. “Isn’t your shift over, Minho? It’s past nine.”

“Oh!” He shifts back into human form and cheerfully hops off the counter, making the floorboards creak. “Lucky me. Good night then.”

“No, wait! Help me! I’m sorry I was mean!” you pathetically call after him. “Minho!”

He turns around and starts heading back to the register. When he sees how relieved you look, he heads for the door again. “Good luck!”

You do your best impression of a banshee in an attempt to stop him, but he doesn’t flinch. “Give some advice at least! Please!”

“Be spontaneous,” he says as he opens the door. “Stop being so practical and get Chan something fun.”

The door swings shut, and Black Cat Minho waves a paw at you before darting down the street. The store goes quiet, and you stand by the counter with your head in your hands.

“But I don’t know how…”

One of your finer attributes is being practical. Plenty of people, namely all your friends who have received presents from you, even say that you are overly practical. It’s not necessarily a bad thing; it just means that they get new brewing stands and gift cards to the local plant nursery for birthdays rather than plushies and balloons.

But Chan’s has to be different and special, which means you have to be reckless and spontaneous and everything you are not.

While you pace around the store, looking for something you would never even consider buying, Changbin steps out of a nearby shadowy corner. He mumbles a hello and brushes his jacket sleeve, no doubt to rid himself of any pieces of darkness from his journey.

“Hey, Changbin,” you brightly greet, walking closer to him with your hands behind your back.

He gives you a strange look at your sudden chipperness and tries to get away. Unfortunately for him, he chose to arrive in a corner, and you easily trap him in.

“How was shadow travelling? Great? That’s great. Anyway, do you think Chan would like this?” You hold up a mesh bag full of stuffed mice, taxidermied ones and plushie ones included.

“What is he even going to do with those? Can I go now?”

You let him pass. “So, it’s perfect then!” Merrily, you take the bag with you to the register and start applying your employee discount code.

Changbin, who has not started working, hovers around. “Wait, is this what you’re getting him for his birthday?”

You stop pressing buttons and fearfully look at him. “Why are you saying it like that?”

You can always count on Changbin on being blunt with you, but it still stings when he answers. “He’ll like it because you gave it to him, but he doesn’t need dead mice. He works with summonings, and what demon likes already dead mice?“

“I’m trying a new approach,” you indignantly say. “No practical presents.”

“Okay, but he doesn’t want dead mice either.”

He makes a fair point. You cancel the purchase and leave the bag on the counter.

“What did you get him?” you ask. You mournfully scan the inventory pages, and the words feel like they’re taunting you. “Crystal ball? Gilded owl cage? Velvet-lined coffin?”

He laughs at your guesses and shows you a picture on his phone. An image of a koala plushie holding a vial of something shimmery stares back at you.

“Is that… dust bunny dust?” you say, pinching the screen to zoom in. “But you can literally find that under your bed.”

“When we were fifteen, he said— never mind, it’s an inside joke.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket and picks up the stuffed mice to put back on the shelf. “Why don’t you get him flowers and chocolate?”

“But that’s so… pedestrian. And more of an anniversary thing.” You sigh and wave him off. “I’ll let you get to work now.”

However, since the shop is quite empty in the late hours — who wants to go shopping when all the best things happen at night — Changbin soon returns by your side to help you solve your issue. You scroll through old text messages between you and Chan to find something noteworthy. You’re starting to reconsider Changbin’s earlier suggestion.

“What if I get him a birthday cake and flowers?” you try after finding a link to a boutique bakery from the town across the river. “But a really special cake and really special flowers.”

“Isn’t that too ‘pedestrian?’” he jokes. At your defeated expression, he pats your shoulder reassuringly. “I think he’ll like it. It’s a little bit practical as well.”

You suppose Changbin is still little miffed by the lint roller and darkness duster you gave him for his birthday.

“Is anything still open though?” You do a search for the local bakeries and flower shops, but as expected, most are already closed. On the bright side, you do know a florist who may not be too appalled if you knock on his door at this hour. “Do you think Jeongin will mind if I barge in for flowers?”

“Yes.”

As for the cake, a simple grocery store cake won’t do. The 24-hour grocery store, luckily, lives up to its name and is still open, which means you can make your own. “And do you think I can make a cake before midnight?”

“No.”

“I will switch those two answers around.” You grab your broomstick from the stand and are ready to leave when you remember that you are still supposed to be working. “Oh wait.”

Changbin shakes his head and nudges you to go ahead. “I can handle it.”

“I can’t just leave early! I’ll get fired!” You nervously drum your fingers on the countertop. You need a new plan, stat. “How about no cake? Agh! But just flowers is… agh!”

He laughs — how dare he! — at your panic. “Jihyo will understand. You’re also the only one who doesn’t fight when you get the witching hour shift.”

Your boss is quite nice and understanding, especially about things regarding relationships. After all, she was an apprentice for a witch specializing in love potions before she decided to open the shop. You hurriedly run for the door as the giant, looming clock ticks again.

“Thanks and good night!” you call over your shoulder to Changbin, who wishes you luck in return.

With some difficulty, you light the lantern dangling at the front of your broomstick. It’s dangerous of you, but you dial Jeongin’s phone number while flying to the grocery store and hope he picks up. If there were actual traffic laws for flying, you are certain you are breaking all of them. The dial tone is cut off, and Jeongin barely gets out a hello before you interrupt.

“I need flowers!” you shout over the rush of the wind. The neon sign of the store slowly blinks, and you nosedive down, scattering a cloud of vampire bats as you descend, almost dropping your phone in the process. “For Chan! So the best ones you have!”

“What kind of flowers?” You hear the sound of water from his end, so he must be tending to his night plants.

“Did you not hear me?” You grab a shopping cart, throw your broomstick in, and haphazardly snatch cake ingredients off the shelves. “The best ones you have! Also, can I borrow your kitchen?”

“That’s not what I— never mind. Sure, you can use my kitchen.”

“Thank you!” you chirp as you grab the last carton of milk. “See you soon.”

You hear Jeongin mumble a goodbye and hang up. Your cart is filled, and you’re certain that you have everything you need to make Chan the most magical birthday cake of his life. Self-checkout is fortunately devoid of customers, so you scan all the products as quickly as you can. Your broomstick is back-heavy as you head to Jeongin’s with your heavy bag of ingredients.

The giant upstairs window of his house is wide open, curtains pulled back, and you fly right through, landing on the kitchen floor with a heavy thump. Jeongin doesn’t even look away from his activity at the sink.

“Hello,” you say a little breathlessly. You take your bag and lean your mode of transport against the wall. “Sorry for coming on such short notice.”

“You couldn’t celebrate his birthday later in the day?” he asks. He’s snipping stems. “I’ve got plants to take care of and harvest.”

You find a large enough cauldron in one of his cabinets and start adding in butter and sugar. “I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of anything to get him, so cake and flowers was a last-minute thing. I’ll buy gift cards here instead of the nursery for birthday presents next time.”

Jeongin seems happy with your response, and he breaks out the extra fancy ribbon he usually saves for expensive orders. With the exception of you mumbling cooking spells and him shuffling flowers around, it’s mostly quiet. After fifteen minutes, you slide the cake pan into the oven and pray the recipe you followed works. You anxiously stare at the clock, the incessant tick tock growing louder with each second. You’re not going to have enough time to frost the cake and make it look pretty at this rate.

While you make the buttercream frosting, you ask Jeongin, “What kind of flowers are you using?”

“The best ones I have,” he replies. You don’t need to see it to know he has a crescent moon smirk on his face. “The real answer is roses, lavender, and jasmine.”

Minho’s reminder of being spontaneous and not practical echoes in your ears. “Those are very practical choices,” you slowly say.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“I’m trying a new approach. But it looks very pretty!” you add, admiring the colors. “He’ll need the lavender for stress anyway.”

He chuckles, and you sigh at your one-track mind.

When the clock strikes eleven, you’re officially in full panic mode. The bouquet is complete and resting in a glass jar of water. Jeongin, who for some reason trusts you to be alone in his home, leaves you while he attends to his plants. The cake — the stupid, still warm, ‘cannot be frosted unless you want the entire thing to look like an old wax candle’ cake — is sitting on the counter, and you whisper cooling spells that do not seem to be working.

It does smell lovely though, so at least the recipe worked.

After fifteen minutes of waiting and reciting cleaning spells, you start applying the first assembling the cake and icing it. You’re scraping the excess off when your phone rings. You mindlessly swipe across the screen with your knuckle, smearing a tiny bit of buttercream across the surface.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hey, it’s Chan! Are you still coming over tonight? I just wanted to check since I know you’ve got work.”

You squeak and quickly push his almost-finished present aside, afraid he will discover the surprise even though he can’t see you. “Hey!” you say as nonchalantly as possible. He doesn’t know, you repeat to yourself. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Alright. I can’t wait.”

You hear him smiling, and a colony of bats flutter in your stomach out of anticipation and nervousness. “I’ve gotta get back. I’ll see you later. And happy early birthday.”

“Thanks, love. See you in a bit. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

He hangs up, and you quickly swing back into the thick of things, piping the birthday message in cursive across the top,and decorating the sides with the same sprinkles as inside the cake. It looks, let’s be honest here, terrible, and you decide to use magic to make it look better. It feels like cheating, but what’s the point of being a witch if you can’t use your powers for good?

Jeongin comes back inside and gives an appreciative “Ooh!” when he sees your creation. “That looks really nice.”

“Thanks, I used magic.”

He becomes less impressed. You make a face at him while you carefully put Chan’s cake into a cardboard box, which you stole from Jeongin’s supply cabinet. A cheerful alarm sounds, and your phone screen reads, “11:55 PM - Chan’s Birthday!”

Time is of the essence, and you possess none. You rush about, putting the box into the bag and letting it hang from the back of your broomstick like you did with the ingredients. There are still remnants of your decorating on the counter, so you hastily say a cleaning spell and hope it doesn’t go haywire.

Jeongin is a warlock; he can handle it.

The bouquet you hold with one hand, while your other one steers your broomstick. Your friendly but not useful friend watches you in amusement, and you bid him good night as you launch out of the window.

“Good night!” he yells, his voice ringing through the air. “Tell him ‘happy birthday’ for me!”

“Tell him yourself!” you shout back.

A few petals scatter into the wind, and you force yourself to slow down. You are flying, you should have adequate time, you cannot mess this up. Chan’s house isn’t too far away by broom, and you watch as the ETA on your GPS ticks down.

Destination in two minutes.

Destination in one minute.

Arrived at destination.

11:59 PM.

With a sigh of relief, you land and gather your gifts in your arms. Before you can even knock on the door with your foot, it opens. Chan, a grin on his face, stands on the other side of the threshold.

“Happy birthday!” you greet. You present him with his presents. “Happy birthday to the best person alive — you!”

He hugs you, gifts and all. “Thank you,” he says, his breath tickling your ear.

“Anything for you.”

Oh, how true that statement is.

After you nestle your broomstick in the rack outside, Chan leads you into the living room, and you place the box on the coffee table, which is surprisingly devoid of his usual clutter. The bouquet he takes from you and studies it.

“Lavender for stress, roses for… rosehip tea? And what are the white ones?” he asks.

“Jasmine, and I guess for tea as well. If one of your demons likes jasmine, you can use it in a summoning too.” You poke at his cheek, right where his dimple is. “Open the box.”

“Is it a cake? It smells sweet.”

He lifts the top of the box. He laughs, shuts it back close, and looks at you with lively eyes. “You made this, didn’t you? Your magic is all over it.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. It looks amazing!” He pulls you closer and rubs his nose against yours. “Was it hard to bake?”

A fifty times sped up video of the hours before play inside your head. “It was hard to decide what to get you,” you decide after a moment. “I wanted to do something different than what I usually do.”

“No basket of common summoning items this year?” he teases.

“You said it was useful last month!” A flash of worry passes through you. “Would you rather have received that instead? Oh my. By the moon and stars, I can’t believe that the one time—”

Your forthcoming rambling is cut off when he puts his lips on yours. It’s sweet, slow, gentle, and out of nowhere. “Hm?” you squeak out once you lean away, too shocked to actually say, “What was that for?”

“I love whatever you get me,” he assures.

“No.” Kiss on your left cheek.

“Matter.” Right cheek.

“What.” Left corner of your mouth.

“It.” Right corner.

“Is.” One sloppy smooch on your lips.

He peppers you with more kisses, and you giggle at his messy attempts. “Even taxidermied mice?”

“Yes,” he replies, seemingly serious. “Decent sacrifice material for small things and good for gag gifts.” He softly chuckles. “I would rather have cake and flowers though. Much more pleasant.”

You mimic his big smile from earlier. “Happy birthday, Chan.”

~ ad.gray

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