#this has been my nightly story to tell myself before sleep for like a week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chokiipng · 3 years

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Hay fever : Genshin various

a/n : suffering from seasonal allergies isn't fun . so instead of trying to do school work, i'm gonna write hcs to make myself feel better

character(s) : Xiao, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe contents : fluff with a bit of crack (my specialty) + : reader has really bad seasonal allergies

Xiao :

he doesn't really understand tbh

he plays it off as a common cold at first and entrusts you with Verr, much to her annoyance. he didn't realize the true severity of the situation until a week had passed.

he's heard of seasonal allergies before, so it's not like he was entirely clueless, he just didn't know how to go about treating it.

because of this, he turned into a big ball of concern for the entirety of spring

he asked everyone he could for help, even that ginger haired harbinger (to which he had no clue since he basically lives on an iceberg)

this also happened to peek Zhongli's interest, who then took him to Bubu pharmacy to learn more. it took Xiao about 5 different interrogations to actually visit Bubu, he cursed himself internally for not checking there in the first place

of course, Baizhu laughed it off and informed the both of them on how allergies work, how they're triggered, and how to prevent/soothe them

if you sneezed/sniffled, he was immediately by your side with a tissue and some water. itchy eyes, he had a small bottle of eyedrops for you courtesy of Dr. Baizhu and Qiqi

it was amusing to say the least, watching a feared Yaksha running around frantically in order to soothe your allergies

of course, he soon picked up that it was because you went outside every goddamn day to complete commissions and to pick flowers for who knows who (Qiqi, you often found yourself picking herbs with her because who could say no to that face?)

he legit locked you in your room at Wangshuu Inn and did your commissions for you. he didn't want you in any pain, so he stayed with you when he finished all of his tasks

he didn't isolate you though, but if he takes you out he makes sure you take your allergy medicine (given by Qiqi, ty bby) and that you have a mask on

Diluc :

he never really experienced hay fever, but he knows the gist of it

he's heard stories of it from customers of the Angel's Share and was immensely grateful to the Archons for blessing him with immunity to seasonal allergies

but he wasn't prepared to catch you practically sneezing your guts out one morning

Diluc drops everything, much to Adelinde's horror, and orders for a box of tissues and water immediately. he whips out the blankets from under the couch that he knew you hid and props you on some pillows he fluffed in a panicked rush

the maids watch with a nervous chuckle as he runs around the mansion, completely forgetting about his shift at the Angel's Share and his nightly heroic duties

as soon as he calms down from the initial shock of how hard allergies hit you, he asks you how your feeling and if he can do anything

the next day he asks Donna (who stutters at his mere presence), who mind you is an employee at the Floral Whisper, since Flora isn't there herself about hay fever. he figured that people who worked at a flower shop would know about allergies caused by the pollen produced by flowers

he brings back medicine that you've been instructed to take daily as to lessen the affects of your allergies

despite his day duties, he offers to take up your daily commissions during the days you are physically unable to do them or just does them of his own volition

he trusts that the maids will take care of you in his stead

in the mean time, you're allowed to roam the city as you wish, but that's about it. he threatened Lawrence and Swan that they would feel the wrath of retribution if you stepped foot outside the city

Mondstadt was a land of eternal springtime, there was no way in hell he was letting you out of the city without his supervision

while all of this may be a bit much, he makes sure to let you know that this is just him caring for you. he doesn't want to seem overbearing and trusts that you know what's happening to your body and how to treat it

Kaeya :

he laughs at your demise

what did you expect ?

but he really is worrying on the inside

he makes sure to check in with Barbara just to make sure that you're not suffering from a lethal disease

once he knows that they're just seasonal allergies, (almost) all his worries subside and he sighs of relief

he notifies Jean beforehand (but sometimes forgets), he works considerably less during the time of your allergies since he doesn't really trust anyone else to take care of you

he also doesn't drink as much, surprising, he knows

he refrains from bringing you flowers as he usually does and instead spoils you with unnecessary affection

Kaeya doesn't worry as much since he puts faith in you that you know what's going on in your body. since they're seasonal allergies, he realizes that you must've gone through this before and know how to treat it

since you can't really cure it, you just act more cautious in the outdoors

he often accompanies you on your daily commissions and such, just to be sure that your okay. he takes over the moment you pause to sneeze or itch your nose even once

aside from this, he's the other reason why your allergies are unbearable

once they're all done and over, he teases you relentlessly about how reliant you were on him when in reality it was him doing your tasks of his own volition rather than you asking him. you told him several times that you could handle it, but he persisted nonetheless

he's more reasonable during your hay fever, and despite his unnecessary comments, you find it endearing

Albedo :

he is among the few men who are actually calm during the situation, but since when is he not?

he probably already has a remedy for you that greatly lessens the affect of your allergies

but even without it, he trusts that you know how to handle it

the only factor in here that would cause chaos-

is Klee

once Klee hears you sneeze all hell breaks loose in Albedo's workspace

she runs around everywhere looking for tissues and then ends up bringing Mondstadt's entire supply, which you and Albedo laugh nervously at

once Klee calms down, you explain the bare minimum of hay fever, which she manages to understand

while he has faith that you can treat it yourself, Albedo still recommends that you stay inside more rather than going out exploring and looking for chests, to which you sheepishly comply

Jean cannot thank you enough when it comes to Klee's behavior during this season, as Klee tends to spend more time at home with you and Albedo once you finish your commissions so that "you don't feel lonely!"

she even drew you a picture to show how much she cared!

if you can't sleep at night because of your allergies, Albedo (who is probably still up working) will gladly allow you to indulge in his studies or to just simply read with you until you fall asleep

he too is also happy that you managed to tame Klee

Childe :

this man has no idea what the fuck hay fever is

need I remind you that he grew up in the land of perpetual winter, hay fever doesn't even exist to him. unlike everyone else, he hasn't even heard of the concept

so when you hold a finger up during your weekly sparring, he pauses with a curious tilt of his head

he screams in horror as you sneeze out all of your bodily fluids not once, not twice, but three times

Childe calls off the spar and cradles you in your arms as if you're about to die

it's until he rushes you to Baizhu in a panicked frenzy that he realizes that its...a fever?

now Baizhu is a patient man, he had to raise a zombie child who basically loses her memory each time she wakes up and wields a sword/cryo abilities

but he was getting tired of Childe's endless questions quick.

Childe shrieks as the normally passive pharmacist slams his hands down on the counter with a sickeningly sweet smile

he ceases in his questions, apologizes for bothering him, and races back to the Northland Bank in a cold sweat

it takes you explaining it in a calm voice for him to finally understand it

and he takes this very seriously

while he knows that it's seasonal and that you've gone through it before, he can't help but worry for you

he coddles you, and he doesn't relent even if you tell him

he slaps a mask on you, takes away your fighting privileges, and even order his subordinates to keep an eye on you at all times

that is if he's not already

he clings

he's attached to you

he just wants you to feel better, and you appreciate it, but it can get a little too much sometimes

and while you do tell him this, the same situation happens every year when spring comes around and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Baizhu can't catch a break from the rowdy harbinger

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thetravelingmaster · 3 years

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Short Story: A Voice in my Head

For months now, I’ve had this voice in my head... At first it was barely a whisper. Something I confused with my own inner voice, but now I know it wasn’t. It started off so innocently.... Small whispers that felt like my own sub-consciousness giving me little boosts of self-esteem. Most of the time, I didn't even hear the words, but the pleasurable push was still felt. For example, I would dress myself in a tight little number to go out at the bar and look myself over. Then, the more I would admire myself, the more I would feel microscopic spikes of pleasure... And a sort of whisper in the back of my mind... Complimenting me... What started as sporadic praises eventually evolved to gentle nudging. Soft words that seemed to stick in my thoughts even if I didn't consciously hear them as they echoed in my mind.

Pretty soon, every time I sat in front of my mirror and started to apply my make up, I would feel it as it offered different combinations shades instead of the ones I was about to use. I didn't always bother to listen or consider the strange and annoying ideas I felt pop in my head, but when I did... I felt this spark of deep joy...

Without really realizing it, that amazing feeling nudged me to listened to the foreign words more and more. When I finally woke up one morning with the conviction that something WAS happening to me, I started to fear that I was possibly going mad! That the whispers I was hearing were some type of mental illness. But I soon disregarded that fear when I realized that voice was only there to help. It was just guiding me. Praising me... Before I truly realized it, the voice was whispering every day. Especially in the mornings when I got ready or in the evenings when I took care of myself. In fact, I suddenly realized one morning, as I listened to the whispers compliment me on my outfit, that I was starting to rely on the voice to know exactly how I should dress. Especially since the voice always seemed to know what was best. And that each time it praised me for following it’s suggestions, I would feel the now familiar joyful high bubble up from deep within me. Of course, I wasn’t a total dummy... I noticed that the voice constantly nudged me towards sexier outfits and skimpier underwear, but I was a good looking girl so why shouldn’t I be proud to show it off? I work hard to maintain my looks so I figured I had to right to enjoy it right? Maybe it was wrong of me to indulge and start relying on the voice and MAYBE I might have been able to change what was happening to me. But at the time, it just felt so easy and good to listen to it’s words and follow it’s lead. More and more I would hear the voice as it continued to guide and praise me during the day. Before I knew it, I was even letting the voice guide my diet and exercise routines! Why wouldn’t I when listening to the voice gave me such a peaceful and docile feeling of happiness? Besides... Each suggestion only served to boost my health and moral. After months, the voice progressively took over my habits until I would actively wait to hear it’s guidance before taking any decision related to my looks or meals. Even if the voice wasn’t my own, I felt like it had become part of me none the less. I’ve never been healthier or sexier in my entire life! If anything, I was extremely grateful to the strange and wonderful voice for keeping me so focused. And so euphorically happy! Every day the voice urged me on and guided me to be prettier and sexier. I found myself almost addicted to the docile joy I felt when ever I agreed or listened to the voice’s increasing demands. So much so that I never even thought to question it when it started to whisper sexual things when I lay down in my bed at night. The calm joy would buzz in my mind as the voice described erotic scenes while I drifted off to sleep. I wasn’t always able to fully grasp the scene it was painting for me, but I felt like I could feel it... Experience it... I would wake up in morning having a deep conviction that I had erotic dreams. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for my nights to get a little hotter than they usually were. The voice gently nudged me to touch myself as I listened to it’s erotic voice and like everything it suggested I do, I didn’t fight it and obliged. Which felt even more amazing than when I listened to it’s wardrobe or diet requests. My dreams became clearer and every morning, I would wake up with the most delicious of arousals as it spread to cover my entire body like some warm afternoon sun. And the more I indulged, the longer that feeling lasted as I went about my day... After a few weeks of this, I found myself spending every waking moment in a sort of deliciously docile haze of arousal has the voice in my head spoke to me more and more. Eventually, I started to realize that the voice never suggested that I let my nightly masturbation session find their release. So of course, I ended up edging instead of chasing my pleasure to its rewarding conclusion. Did it play into my euphoric feeling and constant arousal? Most certainly... But the voice didn’t tell me to indulge and make myself cum so I didn’t. In fact, it praised me when ever I got close and stopped myself before the pleasure became too intense. Which only made me happier because I craved the voice’s praise and the euphoria it brought. Somewhere along the line, I had completely fallen for the voice in my head. It’s constant guidance and praise had transformed my life and I felt incredibly grateful that it had. By listening to the voice, I had gained a killer body and spent my entire day on a cloud of constant sensual arousal. I had never been healthier or as beautiful. I felt incredible good about myself and the incredible sex appealed it all generated just served to prove that I had done the right thing by listening to the voice in my head. I had fallen in love with that voice and I didn’t even know who it was. But that was about to change... This morning, the voice finally asked a question. After months of praise and guidance, it actually asked me a question. It never had before... Even when I would find myself talking to it and asking if it liked the outfit I had chosen. Or even before that when I still worried that I was mad and I would ask it point blank who it was and why it was speaking to me. It had always ignored my questions and simply guided and praised... Until today. “Do you wish to meet me?” it asked seductively. I was taken aback by the sudden change. The voice had never been so clear in my mind and I paused to appreciate just how intense is truly was. But I didn't savor it for long. The voice had asked a question and it always felt good to be nice and docile for the voice. It wanted an answer and I wasn't going to deny it. Of course, I said yes. So I listened and obeyed as it called out to me. Guiding me through the city as I made my way to the source of the wonderful voice in my head. Who ever it was... They had guided and nurtured me for months. Slowly chipping out the bad and refining the good so that I became the best and sexiest version of myself. They had been with me every step of the way to praise and help me become what I am today. And it had all felt exquisitely amazing... So naturally, I was determined to explore what ever they had in store for me. I knew I had already submitted to the voice because it had shined a light on the docile euphoria that was struggling to bloom inside me. I knew that the arousal I felt had nothing to do with the physical nature of sexual intercourse because it went so much deeper. I knew that my happiness and joy had everything to do with the owner of the voice in my head because in comparison, I had never been truly as happy as I was now. And as I listened to the voice and slowly undressed before the door it had lead me to, I knew that I had been craving to give myself to the owner of that incredible voice for the last few weeks... Because deep down, I wanted to give myself over to the exquisite freedom of never having to decide anything for myself again...

#short story

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solarwonux · 4 years

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prince!wonwoo x witch!reader

w.c: 4.3k (I almost made it 5k but I stopped myself)

warnings: murder, death, alcohol, tarot cards, running away, witchy things if you squint, angst, smut, ropes.

note: special special thanks to my baby @starlightshua she named this beauty lmao. I re wrote this story so many times, literally the first draft of this was nothing like this and then I woke up at 5am today and rewrote the entire thing. I’m pretty proud so I hope you enjoy it. Also let me know if you want more of this, I have some ideas. Enjoy.x

Wonwoo pushes the tavern door open a little too hard. It hits the brick wall behind it, the sound erupting through the wasted and nearly wasted bodies that occupied the space. He doesn’t care, he needs a drink or many of them for that matter so he walks letting the door rattle obnoxiously behind him. The people eyeing him down like he just murdered their first born and not interrupted their nightly escapades.

He reaches the bar taking the worn out stool at the end and taps his fingers against the wooden counter. He was a regular and sadly had gotten used to the mustiness that was etched into the walls of the place and yet he still felt out of place.

“What does our royal guest of honor want tonight?” Mingyu rapped his fingers drumming in front of Wonwoo, grabbing his attention.

“Not royal, but bourbon please.”

Ever since he ran away from his Royal duties and somehow ended up in a tavern that existed harmoniously to bring two worlds together. Wonwoo had seen and witnessed things he had only grown up hearing during his mother’s bedtime stories. A secret language they shared when hidden behind the comfort of his bedroom. Away from the torturous hands of the King.

“As you wish your majesty.” Mingyu’s sarcastic drawl took him out of the spiral inside his head. He rolled his eyes obnoxiously as he watched Mingyu throw his head back in laughter, his fangs catching in the reflection of the dim light causing a chill to roll up his spine. “You’re so uptight tonight, relax a little Prince Charming.” He winked at Wonwoo before turning around and walking away from him.

No matter how hard he tried to leave the life he had behind, everyone here in this tavern that belonged neither here nor there, loved to remind him that he still had the king’s royal blood coursing through his veins. Usually, he didn’t mind, sometimes he would play into the character when he was drunk enough to earn a few laughs. But tonight on the final night of October, he didn’t want to be reminded of his true identity.

On Hallows Eve, three years ago his life had gone south. He was set to marry a princess from a neighboring kingdom and he couldn’t wait to meet her during the annual ball. He had woken up that morning with a jolt and skipped a step as he made his way to his mother and father’s private chamber. When he arrived, his heart, in his throat. He found his father the charming King beloved by his people with his hands around his mother’s throat and a murderous glimmer behind his soft eyes while she slowly turned a rough shade of blue.

Wonwoo felt his world crash onto the ground. his father didn’t stop no matter how hard he pleaded for him too. His tears fell onto the palace grounds creating tsunami’s as he witnessed his mother take her last breath.

He ran, ran to where his feet could carry him. Packed up anything that could fit in the tiny knapsack he used whenever he went to explore the forest behind the palace. And left, leaving behind the life he had only ever known.

He traveled for three days on foot without food nor rest, before he came across the tavern that smelled more like rotten feet than whiskey. He met Mingyu, who had recognized him right away and gave him the tavern’s royal treatment. Food, water and the rickety old room just above the tavern.

“It’s not satin or velvet or whatever you guys use over there, but it’s enough for you to sleep. Just pay me back by working here every odd day of the week.” Mingyu said, clapping his shoulder and leaving him behind to deal with his new reality.

That night was the night he was able to mourn his mother’s death and his own one as well. The king had come out publicly with fake tears in his eyes to say that his wife and his second born son had fallen ill to an illness and that when the royal physicians realized it, it had been too late. Though, everyone in the tavern knew the truth and he found comfort knowing that they hated the king just as much as he did.

“Penny for your thoughts my prince.” The angelic voice he had grown to love so much took him out of his thoughts. He lived in his head too much and he was thankful he had you —a witch he had met during one of his shifts over a year ago, to ground him back down onto Earth.

“Don’t call me that.” He smiled and grabbed hold of your hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed it lightly keeping his eyes on yours as they burned holes of fire into them. You tensed up feeling the heat run up your body. It was laughable. You, a witch who could make anyone succumb and fall at her feet, was letting a runway prince pursue her and turn her into mush at his feet.

“You liked it when I said in bed once.”

“That was one time, princess.” He winked, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed. Your body reacted amorously to him and each time it bubbled an emotion deep inside of him that he wasn’t sure what it was. It scared him and excited him all at the same time.

Wonwoo stopped believing in love three years ago but every time you were nearby. He believed that he could again.

“One to many times Wonwoo.” You toyed as you took the empty seat next to him. Your hand still entrapped in his and you weren’t planning on letting go any time soon.

Mingyu rolled his eyes and placed Wonwoo’s drink in front of him, “Wonwoo has a prince kink?.” He mumbled his voice laced with disgust. “I should’ve known.” and leaned against the wooden table, shooting daggers at Wonwoo.

“Not a kink if that’s what he is Gyu.”

Wonwoo didn’t care that he still had royal blood in him, because whenever he found himself laughing at Mingyu’s poor attempts to flirt with nymphs. Or your presence next to him he forgot that he did. He wondered if his mother had led him here to this repulsive tavern in order to meet the two of you.

Although Wonwoo knew you were perfectly capable at defending yourself. He loved walking you home.

The two of you trailed down the dirt path hand in hand; chasing the blue light of the moon. Comfortable silence erupting between your bodies. Wonwoo never felt more at home then now.

“So what’s a witch like you doing with a commoner like me on Hallow’s Eve.” Wonwoo glanced at you his eyes sparkling like they held a million galaxies and you found yourself wanting to get lost in them. “Don’t you have rituals or cards to read, aren’t you the most powerful underneath a blue moon.” He edged on making you smile.

“Are you saying you want your cards read again?” You bumped your shoulder against his. His grip on your hand falters making you giggle.

Wonwoo’s eyes grew wider than the moon as he remembered the night you read his cards to him for the first time a few weeks ago and he blushed. “Last time you read my cards I ended tied up.”

“Well that’s cause you picked my sex deck Wonwoo, we’ve been over this.” You stopped walking and leaned up to kiss his cheek, leaving a plum lipstick mark behind. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You whispered in his ear.

Wonwoo swallowed hard at your taunting tone. He knew you were right and he hated it. If you had asked him with that infamous bat of your eyelashes he would’ve done it again. “For once angel I want to see you tied up.” He blurted out, his cheeks turning a rough shade of red as he processed what he had said after he had said.

“Okay, but you’re going to have to catch me first.”

“Catch you, what a—.”

Before Wonwoo could finish his sentence you took off running. Wonwoo threw his head back in disbelief, his body coursing with exhaustion for a brief second before he took off as well. This is what he loved most, the adrenaline rush you brought to him. Although sometimes he thought you were too much he wouldn’t trade the moments he spent with you for anything in the world. Not even for his mother’s life and you had offered a few times, but he refused because with you he felt complete.

Your laughter rang through the howling branches of the trees surrounding the two of you. Wonwoo’s body felt like it was floating as he chased after you, the cool night air hitting his face as he ran with everything in him. It reminded him of the times he spent at the palace gardens chasing after his older brother, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears as she joined in halfway. It was these moments where he was the most carefree, that reminded him of his mother. That made him miss her with everything in his being. It was moments like these where the anger and resentment towards his father would surface and he wished he hadn’t had run away that day. But this was different because for the first time in his life he was running towards someone, a goal.

“Maybe you don’t want it enough Wonwoo. Are you even trying?” You teased, he could tell he was close from how loud your voice sounded. It only gave him motivation to run faster, so he did.

You faded into view, it felt like he was seeing you for the first time in his life. You were leaning against a tree, arms cockily crossed in front of you, waiting. He let his feet carry him like the wind around him and soon he was crashing into you like an ocean wave. You laughed silently. The impact, knocking the air out of your lungs making you feel lighter than a cloud.

Almost as if by instinct Wonwoo’s arms found their way around your body, his face morphing into one of concern. He didn’t mean to crash into you as hard as he did or at all, but sometimes when he was with you his body acted as if it were unattached to his brain. “I’m sorry are you okay?” He placed his fingers underneath your chin lifting your head up so your watery eyes locked with his.

You planted your hands on his chest, balling your fist wrinkling his starch white button down and nodded. “With-- y-you I’m always okay.” You gasped and closed the distance. Your lips were on his faster than he could blink and he felt himself melt.

In fairytales silver and water were a witches ' kryptonite. In this life you were Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo didn’t win but he should’ve known you were going to give in to his desires. Despite your sneaky ways he knew he could always trust you but still it had caught him off guard when you had given him the onyx ropes upon entering your small cottage.

“You wanted to tie me up right? Now’s your chance.” The amount of trust that laid behind your eyes was overwhelming. And no one, not even his mother, had trusted him like you did.

He placed the ropes down on your old wooden bed and kissed you with everything in him.

When his mother would tell him the damsel in distress stories during bed time. She always described the ending kiss as if it were the most magical thing in the universe, with fireworks exploding and butterflies running mayhem in pits of stomachs. But you weren’t a damsel in distress and his mother’s description of a true love’s kiss didn’t do this kiss justice.

Wonwoo very much felt like he was thrown in the middle of space and was now dumbly floating around. His body felt lighter than air, but heavy at the same time. He didn’t feel fireworks nor the butterflies but he did feel the adrenaline dip in the mouth of his stomach and the strikes of lightning that raced through his veins. He felt brand new, and he was ready to give himself to you, just like he had many nights before but this time it felt different, important and special.

Maybe Wonwoo was finally releasing the lock he had around his heart, but if he didn’t know any better--and he didn’t. He was positive that what he was feeling for you in this moment of vulnerability was love.

“I want to take my time.” He whispered against your lips as your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. “I want to be with you forever but I don’t know how.” He crushed the hem of your silk black shirt between his fingers. Your hands stopped their movements and you pulled away. They wandered up to his cheek, your index finger playing with the tiny sunspots that only you were able to see. He looked so small and scared and you were sure you mirrored his same expression because the grip he had on your shirt got tighter.

You had been in love once. Many lifetimes ago and they had been taken from you because of what you were. You promised yourself you would never love again and you spent years alone, until you found yourself in the odd old tavern.

For as long as you lived in the old supernatural town, you never once paid attention to that old tavern. Until one night during blue moon much like the one tonight, a little over a year ago you found yourself drawn to it. Your feet carried you there by themselves, your mind on autopilot and before you knew you were sitting in front of the bar, looking at a curious boy that resembled the prince you grew up hating, but that was impossible because he had been dead for years.

To your surprise he was the prince and he had spilled two strawberry margaritas on you ruining your new favorite shirt. You cursed him out, wondering why he wasn’t deader than dead as he apologized. He dropped everything before taking your hand in his and leading you up the rickety old stairs that led to the room above. Without a word he tore his poor excuse of a room apart until he found you a clean shirt and you put it on not after pushing him out of the room for some privacy.

If you had known that you would still keep that same shirt hidden deep in your closet you would’ve laughed because that was the first night you started to fall for him and every passing moment you were with him felt like you were being reborn again. Like a part of you didn’t die behind the flames of the burning fire as you watched your lover yell out for his life. That memory was buried deep in your mind and you had never told Wonwoo in fear that he would look at you differently. Like you weren’t his lifeline anymore, so, you kept it locked away inside of your heart just like the love you felt for him. One day you would tell him just not tonight. Tonight you wanted to keep your secret and instead be with him in every way possible.

“Take your time but tonight make me yours please.”

Wonwoo didn’t tie the ropes hard enough and it made you laugh at his shaking hands as they traveled down your flushed out body. You had assured him that you had suffered through worse than the burning of ropes against your skin. But he paid no attention to your statement as he finished his second and final loop on your bedpost.

He kissed his way down your body slowly, giving extra love the parts he knew would have you unraveling in no time.

This was one of the things you loved most about him, instead of getting what he wanted and leaving. He took his time getting to know your wants and needs. You’ve had many lovers in the past and none of them had felt nor treated you the way Wonwoo did.

With love.

“You feel so warm already.” He whispered against the skin of your stomach, slowly getting closer to where you wanted him most. His hands squeezed your thigh and prided them open as he kissed his way further down, hovering his mouth against your clothed core.

You whimpered, tugging at his roots in attempts to bring him closer, “Please Wonwoo please.” You let out an exasperated breath. “I need you close.”

Wonwoo smirked leaving an open mouthed kiss against your core, savoring your honeyduke sweetness that seeped through your panties. Your grip on his hair got tighter as he continued to tease you. Kissing you and humming like he was tasting his last meal. He lapped up once more groaning before hooking his thumbs against the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, sitting down on his knees and throwing them somewhere in your room, joining your already discarded clothes.

The coolness of the wind coming in from your open window made the goosebumps rise against your soft skin. Wonwoo sucked in a breath as he took in how wet you were and for him.

No matter how many times he found himself in this position, your body's reaction to him always left him floored. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” You joked, placing your leg against his shoulder and pulling him down towards you again. Catching him off guard, just like you always did.

“One day I will and then I won’t stop and by the end of it all, I’ll have my own private collection.” He winked laying down in between your legs again. He kissed up your thighs alternating between the two, taking his sweet time like he always did.

“I bet you’d like that...f-fuck.” Wonwoo lapped up your entrance and wrapped his perfect lips around your clit. He closed his eyes savoring your taste, his blunt nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

“Y-Your mouth was—ahh, your mouth was made from the h-heavens.” You arched your back, pushing his head closer with your legs entrapping him. Your hands grabbing on the ropes as you felt your orgasm approach.

A throaty groan fell out of his mouth, sending the vibration up your clit and through your body. The knot in your stomach starting to get tighter. Wonwoo’s index and middle finger swirls around in your pussy. Bathing in the wetness before he slowly inserts them. He always knew you were warm inside but today it felt like you were on fire and he couldn’t wait to devour you further.

He hums happily pulling away and sits up, your leg falling from his shoulder making you whine at the loss of his mouth. “Patience baby I’ll give you everything you want tonight.” He assures before pushing his fingers in even further, your heat entrapping him.

“Ah, f-fuck this feels better than my charms.

“You have sex charms?” He poses curiously. You were a book full of fairytales and he couldn’t wait to read you front in back until the last day of his life.

“I have charms for a lot of things.” You throw your head back in pleasure as he lets his fingers take control. “I-I can show them to you one day.” You let out a breath as you felt your orgasm nearing.

“Why not now?” He brought his thumb onto your clit and started rubbing figure eights circumoniously, while his fingers pistoned into you. If anyone were to ask him what his favorite pastime was he would cheekily answer that it was you falling apart because of him.

“Don’t need them...you make me cum.” You arched your back and pulled on your ropes as your orgasm flooded over you. You moaned Wonwoo’s name like an old incantation in your book of spells as he continued to help you ride out your orgasm.

You always looked beautiful to Wonwoo, like a goddess or an angel sent from above. But the way you looked when you fell apart underneath him, was breathtaking and he wanted to remember it forever.

“Did that feel good?” He takes his fingers out, his palm rubbing soothing circles against your thigh as he brings them up to his lips. Your spent pussy clenched over nothing as you watched him, eyes locked with yours savoring you.

You nod, “It was orgasmic.” You joked. Your weak attempt of a pun makes him laugh. You freed yourself from his poor attempt at binding you to the bed and sat up. Wonwoo watched you dreamily as you wrapped your arms around his neck planting a soft kiss to his wet lips.

“Make me cum again my prince.”

“I’ll make you cum until first light.”

Wonwoo kept true to his word, pulling four more orgasms from you. Each one more intense than the other and you found yourself craving for more, but he had stopped sensing your exhaustion.

He had been right earlier that night in the forest. You were strongest on Hallows Eve and underneath a blue moon, but when it came to Wonwoo you were weak. You didn’t mind it because it was to someone who would without a doubt catch you if you fell hard.

You had read it in his cards the first and only time you drew them for him. You didn’t voice it because his face when you had exposed his kinks was priceless. And because you feared that if you did you would lose him before you could tell him how you felt about him. You weren’t sure when you would but if he kept looking at you and holding you like you were his entire universe. You would without a doubt forget your fears and confess.

“I love you.” Wonwoo’s eyes got wide as he brought his hands up to his mouth covering it. “Sorry I—I fuck I-“

“I love you.” You copied his actions. The two of you letting the silence overcome your ragged breaths. Until he laughed, making you laugh as well. You grabbed his hand and brought it close to your body.

It was unbelievable how afraid the two of you had been when the two of you had unknowingly fallen for each other long ago. Wonwoo sat up on his elbows and moved so he was hovering over you again. “I’ve never once loved, and I’m sure I love you more than anything in this world.” He pecked your lips repeatedly before laying half of his body on yours carefully and putting his head against your chest humming happily.

“I once loved but I didn’t love them the way I love you Wonwoo.”

“That must mean I’m special princess.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands coming up to his shoulders and kneading out the tension that had formed over years of unnecessary stress. “Not a princess...but you’re more than special.”

“In my eyes you’ll always be my princess.” He left a chaste kiss against your collar bone. “But you’re more than special to me too baby, and since we’ve established that can you tell me what’s been bothering you all night.”

“Nothing’s bothering me, why are you asking?”

“You didn’t drink tonight and back when we were walking home you were spaced out half of the time.” He traced a finger up your side teasingly.

You sighed and stopped massaging his shoulders. He was right you had been distracted for half the night wondering how you should tell him the last secret you had. This one you couldn’t keep hidden away because it involved him and his biggest heartbreak.

“I drew a card from my deck this morning.”

He hummed and lifted his head, his eyebrows knitting together, “What was it, anything bad?”

You bit your lip, knitting your fingers into his hair. “The Empress, sometimes I read her as a fertility card an-“

“You’re pregnant?” Wonwoo sat up, your hand falling onto his chest. You giggled, shaking your head profusely. Your contraception charms were safer than any kind of contraception out there.

“God no Wonwoo, not now, but you told me your mom loved peonies right?”

“Yeah, the palace was always filled with them.”

“Okay well for days I’ve been seeing peonies pop up randomly around this place and I just thought it was a coincidence. When I drew my card this morning, The Empress was surrounded by peonies, but I really didn’t think anything of it. When I entered the tavern last night there were peonies in the flowerbed growing. And now that I think about it they were there too the night I met you.”

“What are you saying, that my mom is here somehow?” His voice was filled with hope and you tried hard not to cringe at the sound. The thought had crossed your mind a few times but you always had to remember that even though the supernatural existed peacefully in this world. That rule didn’t apply to the dead, they had strict rules on their side of the realm. If his mom was making an attempt to contact him he was sacrificing her chances at reincarnation.

“I’m saying that maybe your mom didn’t tell you who she really was.”

“Are you saying she was a witch like you?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt comfort. Everything about his childhood made sense. The random peonies that would appear in the garden during the mid of winter. The stories that didn’t feel like stories but more like memories. And her sudden death. He wasn’t sure if his father had known or if he had found out that morning, but whatever the case was he was positive that she had sent you to him. His greatest and last gift to him from her and had never felt more at peace.

“Yes.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff

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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body.

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest.

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.”

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.”

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.”

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare.

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled.

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face.

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings.

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.”

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?”

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?”

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.”

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further.

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply, “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the exhaustion of the day washes over you.

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #dad!harry #still not perfect but I like it so much more #hope you all enjoy it!

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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OK, Word of Honor, Episode 9, and I know last time I got deep in the weeds about symbolism, but this week, I’m getting back to basics and rambling on (and on) about what this show is really about: Zhou Zishou and Wen Kexing and their relationship.

First, though, the usual warning: SPOILERS. Not just for this episode, but potentially for the entire show, so drive past and circle back around later if you want to watch all 36.5 eps unspoiled.

Bear with me on this one, because this ep spends a LOT of time on ZZS and WKX, and I think a lot of that time is ZZS making some Monumental Life Decisions, including how he’s going to proceed in this relationship and how he’s going to approach his life moving forward. But I’m finding myself needing to work through it chronologically, and it’s. A Lot. Also, let’s face it, ZZS has been my ride-or-die at least since he dropped to his knees and started disrobing in the middle of the throne room in Ep 1, so a chance to wallow in his emotional journey is a chance I’m gonna take.

So, we do have a brief opener when we find out Dead Guy who the Yueyang disciple was shrieking about at the end of the last ep is Fang Buzhi, AKA the Nine Clawed Fox, the guy who lifted WKX’s (Danyang) Glazed Armor (along with some replicas). He got got by mysterious somebodies in the previous episode, and we find out now that he has three tiny needles in his neck, which ZZS recognizes as a Tian Chuang technique. This leads ZZS to 1) assume it must have been Han Ying who did it, so the (Danyang) Glazed Armor is now in the hands of Tian Chuang, and 2) realize that maybe this is not the best place for the former leader of Tian Chuang to be hanging out right now, so he makes their excuses, because he knows that Gao Chong must be VERY BUSY now that he’s got this corpse on his hands, so they’ll just BE GOING, thanks so much. Gao Chong hopes to see them at the Hero’s Conference, and WKX responds in a Significant Tone that of course he’ll be at the Hero’s Conference, and now ZZS has his Thinky Face on again, because WKX is not nearly as subtle as he seems to think he is when he’s making Pronouncements.

The ZZS/WKX Show really starts kicking into gear that night, at the Getting Lucky Good Luck Inn, where we open on ZZS wandering contemplatively around his room, looking beautiful in the soft light of evening (your FACE, Zhang Zhehan) and ruminating on Prince Jin’s motives for wanting the Glazed Armor, like he’s never met this power-hungry asshole before. Also, he thinks to himself, wtf was that, with Gao Chong keeping anybody from seeing Chengling in the last ep? There’s a knock on the door, which momentarily confuses him - understandably, because as we’ll see, WKX doesn’t generally get the concept of announcing yourself and waiting to be invited in by knocking first, preferring to dramatically bust open doors (at least to ZZS’s bedroom) and grace you with his presence, whatever your thoughts on the matter are. He’s accompanied by waiters and dinner, and ZZS realizes his senses are going, presumably because he can’t smell this spread that WKX has procured in an attempt to prove what a good provider he is (what did I say about food and bonding? ZZS fed him in the market, and now it’s his turn to feed ZZS). WKX tells us that life is just three hots and a cot - which gives away more about your life than you would likely be comfortable with us knowing, Lao Wen, given how close to the vest you’re holding your cards – and that everything else can wait if you can have a meal with someone you like. :coff: (Also, remember this, it will come around again.)

Cut to dinner by flickering candlelight, the better for soft lighting to caress ZZH’s exquisite face, but ZZS isn’t into it at all, staring into space instead of eating WKX’s proffered Courtship Delicacies. This earns what’s possibly WKX’s most hypocritical and amusing comment yet, which is to ask ZZS, “What is it that you can’t tell me?” ZZS - apparently - is still feeling soft about WKX’s help against Tian Chuang’s Chengling-kidnapping attempt - or maybe he’s thinking that a little bit of opening up on his part will soften up WKX - because he hardly has to have a spoon dug into his ribs at all to admit that he’s wondering if it was a mistake to bring Chengling to Five Lakes Alliance. My dude, just steal him back, then. WKX laughs at him and tells him he’s got such a handsome face (true) along with a kind and innocent heart (false, he’s a former government spook and assassin, a part-time ill-tempered gremlin, and a whole-ass troll), and therefore girls will clearly go crazy for him (true, just ask me). ANYWAY, A-Xu, (WKX continues) now that the requisite random no-homo boilerplate is out of the way, are you really thinking of taking on Chengling as a disciple, because now is apparently not too soon to have the adoption conversation about Our Son. I almost expect him to pull out the adoption papers then and there. Instead, he pulls out a story - which is awkwardly placed and kind of clunky, actually, despite being thematically important - of a dog he had once, given to him by Someone Very Important, although of course he’s not going to say who that was (:facepalm:), and his mother warning him that he’d have to take care of it for life, and then he betrayed it.

So, there’s a lot going on here. We’ll eventually find out that ZZS gave Zhen Yan a puppy, so will this story of a gift dog jog ZZS’s memory into realizing that WKX is Zhen Yan without WKX actually telling him, so that WKX can tell his Bundle of Neuroses that it’s not reeeaaallly WKX’s fault ZZS figured it out? Also, WKX sees ZZS being like this about Chengling, and in the Chengling = Zhen Yan equation we’ve already established, is it possible this will prime ZZS to remember another disciple/young boy he took responsibility for, at one point? Of course, on ZZS’s side of things, it’s possible that hearing about this dog that WKX failed is likely to remind him of the way he failed his own responsibility to all the other disciples of Siji Manor, so, excellent way to take a stab at his heart, WKX! However, ZZS breaks the miserable tone we’ve become mired in by smacking WKX, chiding him for comparing their son to a dog, and getting them drinking. See, here, Chengling is the dog. Earlier, the two sisters A-Xiang rescued were the dog. Later, A-Xiang will be the dog. Unfortunately, WKX is going to have a blind spot and never quite realize that, in the Ghost Valley schema he’s set up, the Department of the Unfaithful is also the dog, but we’ll get to that in later eps. For now, cut to later that night: After dinner and a washup, ZZS sits on his bed, and we get some special effects to indicate that his hearing is also giving him problems, so he deploys his special Nightly Nails Torment meditation pose, and then we get the second instance of WKX playing the xiao to help him meditate and rest. (Junjun, your hands on that xiao …) ANYWAY, we get a gorgeous little bit of physical acting from ZZH here that could easily have been overplayed but is nicely restrained and subtle, with just the slightest smile when ZZS realizes WKX is playing, and then his whole body visibly relaxing as he allows himself to sink into WKX’s now-familiar musical embrace the meditation. It is :chef’s kiss:

Cut to next AM, when ZZS is now a very cranky boy, and I get this, because I also am exceedingly irritated when people bust into the room where I’m sleeping with an abundance of cheerfulness and try to get me to interact and do things without at least half an hour to creep my way out of bed, two cups of coffee, and an hour of silence before any attempts to converse like a reasonable human being (I’m looking at YOU, mom), and I don’t even have the excuse of seven Nails pinning me. Also, when WKX whips off the blankets, we learn that ZZH dresses to the right. :hands: I’m just making an observation. So, WKX wants to go to Yuefan Tower like some kind of wide-eyed tourist, and despite some smacking and scowling and death threats, we then smash-cut to the Tower, where ZZS has apparently come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the ADHD gremlin crawling into his bed is to humor him about this daytrip. I think you could have come up with some more creative ideas that didn’t involve leaving bed, but I guess you’re not the fast one in this relationship, Zhou-ge. Srsly, though, I’m sure WKX would have been happy to do all the work, my dude. (I don’t always have strong top-bottom preferences, but you probably aren’t going to have much luck convincing me that ZZS is not a pillow princess who wants to just lay back and be spoiled. “Aren’t you a very capable man?” indeed. WKX has to do ALL THE WORK, god. I don’t know if I’m swimming against the current here – god knows I was in Inception fandom, where I felt the same way about Eames - but here we are.) Also, I can’t believe WKX didn’t just sit in the bedroom and creep on A-Xu’s beautiful sleeping profile for at least the amount of time it would have taken to drink a pot of tea, another viable option if it was me in this scenario. Tch. What kind of stalker are you, Lao Wen?

ANYWAY, at Yuefang Tower, ZZS tells us about the Four Sages of Anji, a senior-citizen polycule of soulmates who are, conveniently, at this very moment, on a boat in the lake beside the tower, playing music and sword-dancing. This is the first time they’ve been seen in 10+ years, after they put down their various swords and ran off together to live like hippies off-the-grid in the woods, probably skipping around naked, drinking “tea,” and having lots of sex. ZZS sighs wistfully while recounting this tale and calls them “a breath of fresh air.” There’s some discussion and poetry quoting and literary references to soulmates, and somewhere in here we get a shot of ZZS and WKX from behind which makes it super-obvious how hard they’re working the costumes to make Gong Jun look as broad as possible. He’s got the power shoulders on this set of robes, compared to Laopo ZZS’s soft, unstructured, flowing robes, and with those shoulders tapering down to the belted waist, they’ve got Junjun seriously working the Chris Evans Dorito silhouette. Meanwhile, focus back on their conversation: ZZS thinks that “the world is not important, finding a soulmate is,” giving some MAJOR FORESHADOWING for the end of the show (which we are accepting as “Ep” 37 because WE ARE), when we get that icy separation from the rest of the world but they have each other. WKX gives him a yearning look. ZZS looks back … there’s really no other way to put this … coyly, not meeting WKX’s gaze directly. This offers WKX and us a chance to admire his profile once again, thank you, Laopo. ZZS waits until WKX looks back out at the lake before looking at him directly, and his face journey, y’all. He’s thinking that it might not be bad to spend his remaining time with this soulmate, I think he’s starting to re-think the slow suicide, and he’s also thisclose to just letting WKX have him. Y’all, he seriously wants WKX so bad, here. It may be the first time we’ve seen this level of interest from him - it may be the first time, in all that we’ve seen of him, that he allows himself to even have that kind of interest. I think this is the next big step from Ep 6, when he allowed himself to enjoy being desired - now he’s allowing himself to desire, to want something again, other than a chance to drink himself to death in the gutter. This, right here, is a crucial point when he makes the decision to spend whatever time he’s got left living rather than just dying, and I’m flailing on the couch. This is the face of a man who’s ready to Make Some Declarations while getting railed within an inch of his life. SOMEONE IS GETTING SOME TONIGHT. Or he would if he wasn’t going to turn out to be such a fuckup. FFS, WKX.

But first, we cut to a scene of them back at the marketplace, wandering through as WKX mocks various sects in town for the conference – including the Mount Hua boys, who apparently look like virgins make their first trip to a brothel – and ZZS supplies background info on them. WKX asks if ZZS can tell what sect WKX is from, and ZZS calls him a messy bitch before asking if WKX can please stop making him play guessing games about everything and just tell him what WKX so clearly wants ZZS to know. (I know, right? But no, because then WKX might get what he wants, and he’s way too terrified for that, so you have to guess. That way, it’s not his fault when you figure out who he is and reject him, as anyone clearly will do because he’s unlovable and unforgiveable and not even really human, A-Xu.) WKX immediately changes the subject to ramble about the Hero’s Conference and how laughable all the sects are for wanting to be seen as heroes, blah blah blah, rinse and repeat. ZZS comments that only inexperienced people want to be heroes, that experienced people know “every character of the word hero is written in blood,” and yes, the character they’re using for hero, “ying,” is still the same character used in Han Ying’s name (which is not, by the way, the “ying” used in Wei Ying’s name, to cross streams for a moment). ZZS says he’s too old to be a hero (I and my knees feel you, my dude), now he’s just a wanderer, and he asks if WKX wants to be a hero or a wanderer, and WKX says that as a wanderer, all he needs is ZZS, and I’m telling you, someone absolutely would be getting some tonight if only he wasn’t such a fuckup, Lao Wen.

I’m’a try to wrap this up soon, because it’s gotten v. long, but we then cut to that night at the Getting Lucky Inn, ZZS drinking in his room, WKX busting in with his usual dramatic flair, with wine, inviting ZZS up to the roof to drink and look at the moon. He clearly has ulterior motives, but unfortunately for everyone, we’re going to discover they’re not the ulterior motives ZZS is expecting. As they lean back on the roof together, hands almost-but-not-quite touching, a romantic tune playing, WKX tells ZZS that he’s like, really happy! Just super happy! So happy! Ask me why I’m so happy, A-Xu! Spoiler alert: It is, unfortunately, not because he’s getting ready to get some from his laopo. This is particularly unfortunate, because ZZS chooses this moment to take another big step in this relationship, telling WKX that he’s not going to ask about things WKX doesn’t want to tell him, that he’ll wait for whatever WKX wants to tell him. On the surface, this comes off a little bit like, I’m done with asking when you’re not going to answer anyway, but in context – particularly on the back of the earlier scene when ZZS watched WKX turn on a dime and immediately change the subject to avoid exposing anything when ZZS asked WKX to stop making him guess everything – this is as good as a declaration of going all-in. ZZS is committing to this relationship on faith, without having all – or even most – of the answers about WKX, and his approach is going to be to wait until WKX is ready to reveal whatever information he feels safe and comfortable revealing. In practice, he’s going to end up being better or worse at this, depending on the day, but what it reminds me of, already, is that moment in the 20s (Ep 21? 22?) when A-Xiang and Cao Weining are arguing about her killing the beggar guy, he approaches her, she yells at him and points to the ground to indicate exactly how close he’s allowed to get to her, and his respect of that boundary she lays down is instantaneous and absolute. That’s what ZZS is saying he’s going to at least try to do, here. It also reminds me of the way he’s going to respect WKX’s decision on whether or not WKX is going to claim his place as a disciple of Siji Manor, without it affecting their relationship, so we really are starting as ZZS means to go on, here.

Unfortunately, we then find out that what WKX is actually so happy about is that his plan to burn down the jianghu is starting its next big step, and their romantic evening is interrupted by a bunch of dudes fighting and killing each other over a bunch of fake Glazed Armor. WKX mentions that he’s so happy the show’s started; he’s alternately amused, satisfied, and smug as they watch various fights; he seems to be expecting ZZS to also be amused; and I feel like the implication is that this was his real motive for inviting ZZS out onto the roof, to be able to watch this show with him. ZZS – who’s spent enough time standing ankle-deep in blood for six lifetimes and was working hard just a few weeks ago at drinking himself to death to try to forget what that feels like - is displeased and horrified, rather than very proud of what WKX has accomplished; he pushes WKX away from him when WKX approaches him to ask if he doesn’t think it’s all so very amusing; and he calls WKX crazy, then turns his back on him and walks away. To make things worse, the next morning, after WKX brings breakfast to ZZS’s room and actually knocks, only to find that ZZS has left in the middle of the night, WKX will witness an angry mob gathered outside the house in the woods where the Four Sages of Anji are staying for the Hero’s Conference, demanding a piece of the Glazed Armor the Sages are supposedly holding for Gao Chong, and eventually leading to the deaths of all four of these peaceful aging hippies whose commune in the woods was ZZS’s ultimate dream, leaving WKX horrified by the fact that his actions have consequences, including some that are going to make his boyfriend even more pissed off at him.

SO. All that happened. There were some other people in the episode, too:

We see A-Xiang and Cao Weining having lunch. She asks him why he’s not eating, calls him fat and cute, then proceeds to tell him about Ghoul, who likes to eat the faces of pretty boys. Her conversation skills could still use some work. Cao Weining vows to kill the ghosts of Ghost Valley who would do such awful things. A-Xiang actually ignores this slander about the evil of the residents of the Ghost Valley in a way that she doesn’t usually – usually she looks kind of unhappy when the Evilness of the Evil Inhabitants of the Evil Ghost Valley comes up, going all the way back to ZZS’s comments in Ep 2. Right now, she’s too busy pumping Pooh Bear for information, asking about why the Ghost Valley would have left a pile of heads on Yueyang’s doorstep if the Five Lakes Alliance is so great, so what is Five Lakes going to maybe, perhaps, do about this? Cao-dage is suspicious … that A-Xiang might be scared, but don’t worry, he’ll protect her. Oh, sweetheart. I could eat you up with a spoon, right along with Ghoul. Also, it finally registers that A-Xiang called him cute, but she has to step away for a quick confab with a henchwoman.

We also have to watch Chengling get bullied some more by a Yueyang shixiong who I think is Gao Shan, who we’ll later see bullying some prisoners in the Yueyang dungeon as he admits that he’s doing it to relieve his own frustrations and make himself feel better - fantastic disciples you’ve got there, Gao Chong, I’m super-impressed by the morality and ethics you’re instilling as a sect. Once again, I have to consider WKX’s position on the jianghu as a hive of scum and villainy. Anyway, once Bullying Hour is over, Chengling runs into A-Xiang, and he can’t manage to prevent the waterworks as he confesses that he thought he’d never see any of them again and that ZZS didn’t want him. UGH. Zhou Zishu, come and get your child back. He’s at least somewhat mollified by Xiang-jie telling him she’s been sent to take care of him, and god knows she’s managed to keep WKX fed and clothed this long, so she has some experience as a minder, as counterintuitive as that seems.

We get a quick shot of Han Ying (My Beloved) with two identical pieces of Glazed Armor, apparently realizing that there are fakes out there.

Deng Kuan shows up, beaten and stumbling, and nearly gets turned away at the front gates of his own sect as a beggar – have I mentioned how unimpressed I am by the Yueyang disciples? Deng Kuan appears to be the only one of them worth anything – before they realize who he is. He is put to bed and tenderly nursed by Gao Xiaolian, who cries over him as he won’t wake up.

Finally, Gao Chong, Shen Shen and Zhao Jing (uh-huh) are horrified to discover that there’s fake Glazed Armor fk’n everywhere in town, making Five Lakes Alliance look ridiculous, which is just fabulous as the Hero’s Conference is coming up, guys. Shen Shen, because everything is a nail, vows to kill anyone who makes problems. Later, Hei Zi, who plays Gao Chong, has an utterly fantastic moment after the deaths of the Four Sages (wow, I did not remember that we wrapped up their entire storyline within a single ep), when he’s haranguing Beggar Gang Chief and is literally all, “You want the Glazed Armor? :pulls a piece out of his robe: HERE. You want some more? :pulls another piece out of his robe: TAKE IT.” It’s a great acting moment, his delivery is perfection.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #gu xiang #cao weining #han ying #deng kuan #gao chong #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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gryffindor-jedi · 3 years

Text

The Night Fox - Chapter 2

Based on @royalhandmaidens Vigilante Commander Fox theory. The story will eventually lead into Foxiyo and a happy au.

Sorry for the really long delay. Also, this chapter doesn't have any Night Fox scenes because there's some important background plot, but the vigilante shall return in the next chapter!

Prologue • Chapter 1

Summary: The Night Fox takes a hiatus, and Fox's life is turned upside down, maybe for the better.

Word count: 1374 words

Two weeks after getting the special armor, which Fox stored in a secure vault, where he looked at it at least once a day but never took it outside the safe, the lower levels of Coruscant had changed dramatically. For more than a week now, there were hardly any kidnappings, street fights, or anything even slightly disorderly. Illegal activity seemed to have disappeared altogether, which should have been a cause for jubilation. Yet, something kept nagging at him, and for the first time after the Chuchi incident, Fox was unable to sleep. He hadn't seen the Pantoran senator since that nightly encounter, mostly because the Senate was apparently handling more urgent matters. Not being in command of the Coruscant Guard should have bothered him, but Fox just felt free. Until today. The lack of nighttime activity was making him feel restless, and that night, Fox started pacing and kept on pacing in the barracks.

“How long have you been up?” Thorn asked.

“Uhm… That depends on when you woke up.” Fox said looking up, startled. Judging by Thorn's expression, he guessed that he had paced the entire night.

“Kriffing show-off! Lousy amateur!” Stone cried out angrily.

“Are you all right?” Thorn asked, his tone surprisingly kind.

“Oh, hey! It's nothing, nothing, just the same stupid Holonet hero that's been on the headlines for almost two weeks now.” Stone answered, slightly abashed.

“Don't be embarrassed Stone, these articles are maddening!” Thire interjected. “I know it shouldn't be bothering me, but this is just so ridiculous. Some Night Fox saves some young girl from being kidnapped, and that girl just happens to be the daughter of Senator Orn Free Taa's aide's brother. Listen to this: The Night Fox has succeeded where the Coruscant Guard has failed. If a single man can stop something so horrendous in one night, then what has the entire Coruscant Guard been doing?”

Fox swallowed, and pressed his hands to his face. He had only announced his chosen name twice – once to a Twi'lek mother and daughter, and to Senator Chuchi. The girl and the woman had seemed very sweet, and he knew that saving the child had been the right thing to do. But what was the right thing to do now? The main reason the Coruscant Guard was unable to prevent these incidents was because their main duty was to escort senators and other high-level officials and dignitaries, which was an infuriating and tiring job. If the Holonet was using the Night Fox as an anti-clone mascot, then something needed to be done. Just as Fox opened his mouth to tell Thorn about the Night Fox, Rys rushed in.

“Commander Fox… Senator Chuchi… needs… you… to come in… for a hearing” panted Rys, out of breath.

“What!” Thorn stood straight up. “If this is a practical joke that you and Jek thought up, then you'll—”

“It's all right.” Fox patted Thorn's shoulder. “I'll be fine. Besides, the vacation was starting to bore me.”

Fox dashed out, putting all his energy into running and not thinking about the charges.

——————————————————————————

“Commander Fox, over here!” Senator Chuchi was waving.

“Where's the hearing? I came as soon as I got the message.” Fox asked, his heart thudding, and his palms clammy.

“The hearing, well, it didn't happen. Basically, what happened was more of a statement by a single senator, who claimed that the Coruscant Guard is not doing enough. So, a vote for a change of management was held, and well, I don't know how to say this, but you have been ordered to temporarily leave the Coruscant Guard headquarters, and relinquish your armor and weapons, by the order of the Supreme Chancellor.” Senator Chuchi said, her voice trembling. “I am so sorry, Fox. They didn't even give me a chance to present my argument.”

Fox just stood silently. He had just lost the closest thing he had to a home. What was he going to do?

“Senators Amidala and Organa have arranged for you to stay at an apartment, with meals delivered to you, until your temporary leave period is over.” Senator Chuchi continued, barely holding back tears.

“Senator Chuchi, Commander Fox, I have good news, great news actually!” Senator Amidala was strolling towards them. “The charges of treason against Commander Fox have been dismissed!”

“Wait, did you just say that the charges have been dismissed?” Fox asked, still stunned.

“Yes. Apparently, the senators believe that a clone is too unintelligent and weak to commit treason. While I don't agree with their reasoning, this means that in six months, you will be reinstated in the Coruscant Guard, with your original rank.” Senator Amidala beamed. “However, you will still need to relinquish your armor and weapons for the time being.”

“I guess I'll go tell Thorn the good news.” Fox let himself chuckle. What a relief! “Although, after six months under Thorn's command, I wonder what shape the Guard will be in, or if it will even exist.”

“Senator Chuchi will pick you up in her speeder and take you to your apartment, after her Senatorial duties are finished.” said Senator Amidala, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Sounds good, but I don't want to bother her.” Fox said, his happiness slightly fading.

“Don't worry, it won't be a bother. Your apartment is very close to hers.” Senator Amidala said firmly, in a tone that stopped any further discussion.

——————————————————————————

“Well, looks like I'm in charge now.” Thorn said, haughtily. “You must all obey me!”

“Cut it out, Thorn.” Fox smiled.

“Or else what, He Who Is No Longer Commander? What can you do?” Thire teased.

“Well, you'll see, in about six months.” Fox replied, in an ominous tone.

Stone started laughing, and soon Thorn and Thire were as well. Fox finished pulling off his armor, and gave it to Thorn.

“I'll keep this safe for you.” Thorn assured him. “I'll put it in the vault, unless you would like to?”

“I'd better put it in myself. I am the only one who knows the combination.” Fox said with another smile.

“I know the combination. I just have a tendency to forget it!” Thorn shouted at Fox, as the latter walked towards the vault.

Fox opened the vault, and after checking to see that no one was looking, gently removed the armor that Riyo Chuchi had given him. He placed the armor in his small knapsack, and put his own armor into the vault. He stood there for a few moments, trying to wrap his mind around what had happened.

“I'm here to pick up Commander Fox.” Senator Chuchi was talking to the other troopers. He should probably get to her speeder before someone, probably Thire, says something.

“You sly rascal!” teased Thire. “See you in six months!”

Struggling to keep his face from turning red, and silently cursing, Fox entered the speeder.

——————————————————————————

The apartment was very nice, far nicer than the barracks.

“I hope you like it!” said Senator Chuchi, with an awkward smile. “Here's a comlink to call me, anytime.”

“Thank you very much, Senator.” Fox replied, barely opening his mouth, lest he smile and make a fool of himself.

“Call me Riyo.” said Senator Chuchi, no Riyo, cheerfully. “Good night!”

“Good night!” Fox responded, with a soft smile.

“I hate it when Padméand Mon are right.” Riyo muttered, mentally saving Fox's smile in her memory permanently.

Fox continued smiling, and found an excellent place to hide his knapsack. The food on the table was so much better than any ration bar, the civilian clothing in the closet was comfortable, and the bed was incredibly cozy as well.

He was going to give the Night Fox a night off. So much had happened, and he wanted to analyze every moment. No, he wanted to replay everything that Riyo had said and did. Maybe it wasn't on the same scale as saving innocent civilians from violent criminals, but it still made him smile, and that was enough, at least for tonight.

Tag list: @penguinkiwi, @kris-styx

(send an ask to be added, since I'm having a hard time keeping track based on tags and comments)

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suwya · 4 years

Text

Proteus’ curse.

Summary: Emma woke up like any other morning in her bed ... to find out that the day would not be like any other.

This story takes place during the weeks between S4A and S4B.

Rating: G

Warning: gender swap

AO3

A/N: Apparently it's exactly eleven years of Tumblr for me. Hence a one-shot.

This is meant to be a lighthearted and funny story, or so I hope.

All my gratitude goes to my amazing beta-reader @thisonesatellite.

Emma woke up like every other morning in her bed, in the upper part of her parents’ loft. Henry was staying at Regina’s for a few days, so she knew she was alone in her room, that’s why she was surprised to see Hook’s hand first thing, after slightly opening her eyes.

She tried to remember the previous evening, and she knew that they had spent more time than necessary downstairs before separating, but she was sure he had left before she went to bed.

Had he come back, snuck into her room during the night? Well, that was a first.

But she wouldn’t complain if he had decided to sleep behind her, with an arm enveloping her waist.

She closed her eyes again, deciding to enjoy this little quiet moment.

But it was strange, she couldn’t feel his body heat.

She opened one eye again. His hand was still there, and it was definitely his hand that entered her peripheral view. With his characteristic rings, and some hair on the arm that peeked out the pajama sleeve, the same color as hers.

Wait… not only the same color, exactly the same pajamas!

That was even stranger. Bright pink was not something he used to wear.

She lifted her right hand to touch his, but at the same time, he lifted his.

Emma was finally completely awake. Sitting on the bed, her back leaned against the headboard.

She looked around, but she was alone.

She stared at her hands.

No. Definitely not her hands.

Those were Hook’s hands, or better, hand. Just one. The left sleeve of her pajamas ended in nothing.

No! No! No! Emma started chanting it inside her head. This isn’t possible!

Emma stood up and hurried towards a mirror hung on the wall on the right side of the bed.

She gasped as soon she saw her reflection, hand and blunt wrist lifted, trying to cover her face... or better, his face!

In the mirror, there was no trace of Emma Swan, just the image of Hook wearing her pink pajamas with little bunnies on them.

Ok, to be honest, the image was ridiculous, but she didn’t find the strength to laugh. “No! No! No!” She started to repeat, this time aloud.

Emma went running downstairs, but she immediately realized she was home alone. She had no idea what to do, it seemed like a bad nightmare or an awful b-movie where the main characters made a wish to be in the other’s shoes. But she was completely sure she hadn’t made such a wish. Had he?

She was pondering whether to call and ask Hook about this when the main door opened and David entered with a strange look in his eyes.

Father and daughter stared at each other for a few seconds. Emma didn’t know if she was blushing or she was going mad, but she couldn't imagine what kind of thoughts might be going through her father's head.

What he finally said was the last thing she was expecting. “Emma?”

He didn’t ask it as if he was wondering where his daughter was, he asked it as if he wanted to be sure that the person in front of him was really Emma.

“Dad?” Was her reply. But it came out as a question. Because if she was in Hook’s body, who was talking to her? She had been living in Storybrooke for quite some time now to know that everything was possible.

“No. Not your dad, honey. I’m your mother.” He… she… whatever… answered.

Emma sat down on the first chair she found and sighed. “What the hell happened last night?”

~·~·~·~

Killian woke up to the sound of an incoming message text on his phone. He turned around in the bed and before reaching for the device, he passed a hand over his face, trying to shoo away the nightly cobwebs.

What the hell? He thought, feeling only smooth skin, no trace of his stubble. He looked down at his hand, or better say, hands. Because he now had two of them. Delicate, neat, and very, very feminine.

He jumped out of the bed and went to the bathroom, noticing that he had to tie the belt of his trousers, now wide on his hips. When he looked up in the mirror, he cursed "Bloody hell!"

How is this even possible? He thought, reverently touching the blonde tendrils that covered his shoulder. In the mirror, there was one sleepy and somewhat unkempt Emma.

"Emma!" He exclaimed. Worries starting to fill his mind.

Killian went back, pacing his room at Granny's, deciding what to do, when he suddenly remembered the text message and grabbed his phone to read it.

"We need to talk." Was the short line from his love. Nothing more.

He didn't know if she was in the same dire straits he was. But if he was inside her body, she probably wouldn’t be in better shape.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts.

When he opened, the vision in front of him left him speechless.

"It's me. Emma." She felt the need to specify. "May I enter?" But she didn't wait for his reply and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Killian was still looking at her, or rather, at himself, mouth agape.

Emma put her one hand on her waist and arched one eyebrow, waiting for any kind of reaction from him.

After what seemed an eternity Killian was only capable of asking "What the hell are you wearing?"

Emma opened some buttons of her shirt, revealing the pink pajamas with bunnies under it. "Do you think walking here in my pajamas would have been better?"

Killian shook his head.

"And thank God I always wear pajamas two sizes too big, because otherwise, I have no idea in which state of undress I would have woken up this morning!"

"I'm glad you just put some clothes over it." Was his reply. "I suppose those are your father's, aren't they?" He stated, indicating the large plaid shirt and the jeans she was wearing.

She nodded. "And, by the way, I brought you some clothes of mine, so you can change". She left a bag at the end of the bed.

Killian was wearing the same outfit he had worn the previous day. When he had come home at night, he had collapsed on the bed without taking anything off, apart from his black leather jacket and boots. “I do not intend to change.”

“Why not? You can't go out like this.” Emma pointed to the belt he was wearing, cinched tightly, and the way his clothes fell oversized on her thin body.

He shrugged. "I'm not going to undress until we are back to our own bodies."

Emma arched one eyebrow again. She was getting used to doing this gesture she had so often seen on his face. "Are you telling me that you're not going to have a shower until we solve this problem?"

"Are you?" Was his reply with a shocked expression on his, well, her face.

"I haven't thought about it, but I suppose I'll do it, sooner or later. Or do you prefer me to carry your smelling body around the town?"

"Emma, love" he started, struggling to find the best way of expressing what he wanted to say. "We're making progress in our relationship. That's a fact. But we haven't taken the next step, yet." He stressed the last “t” and made a pause letting his words soak in her. "Are you sure you want me to look at your fully naked body for the first time while you're not in possession of it?"

Emma could feel how the upper point of her, ahem… his ears became hotter. "Oh!" She was only able to say.

"Exactly my point. Oh! So no. I do not intend to bathe while I'm not back to be myself. My entire self!"

And then he scrunched her face in disgust.

"What is it?" She asked, touching her, his cheeks, "Do I have something on your face?"

He shook his head. "No worries. I just realized I don't like the way I blush."

“All right.” She sighed. “Let's get to business. David and Mary Margaret are waiting for us at the station.” After a short pause, she added, “And before you ask, yes, they have swapped their bodies as well.”

“This is going to be weird.” It was his time to sigh.

“Weird is the understatement of the year!” Emma exclaimed. “David ...no wait, Mary Margaret told me that not everyone in this town has been affected by this… thing. She has already met Leroy and Granny this morning and they seem to be their usual selves.”

“So why us?” Killian asked.

“My mother has a theory, she texted me a few minutes ago that she would like to talk with us in person about it, both of us.”

“All right, love, lead the way.” He gestured toward the room door.

But before leaving, Emma asked Killian to help her put on his hook because doing everyday actions one-handed was nothing easy. He had his doubts, worried that she would hurt herself or someone else unintentionally, but in the end, he gave in. "Be careful, it's sharp."

And he had to lace her hair in a ponytail with a rubber band she had given to him, because "If you don't want to wash, at least comb my hair, I don't want to become a Rastafarian". He had no idea what that was, but Emma's already categorical orders sounded even more threatening coming out of his lips.

~·~·~·~

When Emma and Killian entered the station, David, in the body of Mary Margaret, was already there waiting for them. He was wearing a soft pink sweater, very typical of his wife, and he was scratching his neck. "I don't know how Snow can live inside this!"

Killian suppressed a laugh "Was it indispensable for you to put on her clothes?"

"My wife thought that we should attract the least attention possible, given that this curse, or whatever it is, hasn't affected all the people of Storybrooke."

"Where's mom?" Emma asked.

"She said something about a matter at school, but she'll be here soon."

"I can use this time to relieve myself," Emma said.

"No!" Killian and David shouted simultaneously.

"Are you kidding me?" She was stunned.

They both shook their heads. "You'll have to wait."

"Come on girls, I'm going to explode!" As soon as the words came out of Emma's mouth, she realized her mistake, which was received by a scowl from the men. "Guys." She corrected herself. "Sorry, out of habit. But I really, really need to."

"Fine!" Killian exhaled. "I'll help."

"What do you mean, help?" David was annoyed.

"It's my bloody body." The other man cut short.

A couple of minutes after, Killian was standing next to Emma in the small toilet of the station.

She had a scarf tied around her eyes so that she couldn't see anything. "Is this really necessary?" She asked arms stretched before her to not hit anything.

"Aye, love, it is."

Killian positioned her in the right spot and she felt how the zipper of the jeans opened up.

She couldn't see, but her other senses were quite alive. When Killian took out her, or better said, his member, she jolted. "Whoa!"

"Everything alright?" Killian worried.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just... Is this what you feel when someone is touching you?" She inquired.

He seemed to ponder over it. "I'm not sure what you're feeling right now, but I suppose yes."

When Emma finished and was fully dressed again, Killian took the scarf from her eyes.

"Don't you have to...?" She asked, pointing towards the toilet seat.

He shook his head. "When you live on the ocean for so many years, you learn how to hold it. Facilities are not the strongest point of a ship."

"You may know how to repress it, but I know my body and believe me, you won't resist as much as you think."

He swallowed hard. "Let's go back to our duties."

~·~·~·~

When Emma and Killian went back to the main room of the station, Mary Margaret was already there as well.

She told them that a girl had locked herself into a class room and had no intention of coming out.

Snow had had to go check it out as sheriff, but as soon as she’d arrived she’d recognized the girl's voice as that of one of her ex-students.

A classmate had told her that the girl in question had come to school that morning crying and saying that she had done something horrible.

Mary Margaret knew the girl’s background, she came from a good family, and her parents were True Love, which made it likely that this girl was showing the first signs of magic.

“It could have been her, unintentionally causing all this trouble.” She explained. “And giving that she is the product of True Love, well, I thought that’s why this sort of curse doesn’t affect all the people.”

“I don’t follow you.” Was Emma’s statement.

“I mean that, maybe, it affects only True Love couples.” Mary Margaret stated.

At that, there were various looks exchanged between the four of them. But it wasn’t the time or place to discuss it.

Snow went on. “David, she won’t talk to me, because she doesn't recognize me. But I’m sure that if you could go to school and try to make her reason, we could probably find out what she did.”

“Me?” He asked bewildered.

“Yes, you. Because to the rest of the world, you are me!” And she crossed her arms indicating that the matter was closed.

David muttered something like “What would I say to her?” and “Why is it always up to me?” But in the end, he surrendered to his wife’s desire. With the condition that Killian would go with him, in his role of Sheriff Swan.

In the meantime Emma and Mary Margaret would go to talk to Regina, to find out if there was a possible magical cure to this curse, or whatever it was.

~·~·~·~

Regina opened her front door to see a very puzzled David Nolan, who was more interested in finding out if anyone was following him, and an unusual Killian Jones, who was wearing an outfit more typical of the man next to him. The mayor raised one eyebrow in question, looking at the couple in front of her. “Sheriff, Captain, what can I do for you?”

“Ah… we hope you could help us with a delicate issue.” The blond man said.

She left the door wide open for the others to come inside. “I see that being part of the Charming family is affecting you more than it should, pirate.” She was looking down at Killian.

“We’re not who you think we are.” Was his short reply.

Regina froze. “And exactly who are you?” She knew that glamor spells were never a good thing.

“Emma”. “Mary Margaret.” They answered in unison.

Regina relaxed a bit. “Well, this is…” She started.

But she was immediately interrupted by Emma “Weird.”

“Awkward”. Mary Margaret added.

“I was going to say: amusing.”

“Believe me, Regina, there’s nothing funny about this.” Emma snorted. “And by the way, why aren’t you in Robin’s body?” She asked.

Regina crossed her arms and lifted one eyebrow. “Should I?”

“Yes. Or at least we thought you…” But Emma didn’t finish the sentence.

“I supposed that this curse, or whatever this is, is affecting only True Love couples. But maybe I’m wrong.” Mary Margaret explained.

The mayor seemed to ponder that possibility. “You could be right.” She conceded. “Assuming that the Savior and the Captain are True Love.”

Emma didn’t let her go down that path. “But that doesn't explain why you are still…you!”

“Because magic only applies to Storybrooke boundaries, and as we all know, Robin is now out of town.” Regina clarified matter-of-factly. “That’s why his, I mean, her" she added pointing towards Mary Margaret "theory could be correct.”

Emma was not at all liking the turn that dialogue was taking, and went straight to the point. “Can you undo it?”

“I could. If I knew who made this curse and how. You should know that all magic has its counterspell, but we need to be sure about how it was created.” It sounded more like a reproach than an explanation. “And by the way, have you tried by kissing your guyliner boyfriend?”

“Regina!” Emma hissed.

“Alright, alright.” The mayor complied. “Let me know if you find out who did this. And I will work on a possible antidote.”

~·~·~·~

Meanwhile, the two men had almost reached the school grounds when Killian grabbed David’s arm to stop him. “There is no need to raise suspicions, we should behave like the people we seem to be.”

“What do you mean?” David wasn’t following his companion’s thoughts.

“Your wife doesn’t walk like that,” Killian stated.

“What?”

“It’s more like a fashion show than a march to war.” The other explained.

“I don’t know if I’m more upset by the fact that you noticed how my wife walks, or because you know what a fashion show is.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many surprises.” Killian winked smugly.

“I’m not going to punch you in the face, just because your current face is my daughter’s.” David started his stroll towards the school, even more at the full march.

“I never thought this situation could have some perks.” Killian chortled.

~·~·~·~

As it turned out, Mary Margaret was right. The girl was scared when Killian and David entered the room where she was hiding, but as soon as she recognized her ex-teacher she burst into tears.

She told them that the day before she had argued with her boyfriend, but her parents didn't seem to care about it, confident that sooner or later the young lovebirds would resolve it. She added that it was very difficult to be the daughter of a perfect married couple; it seemed that everyone expected her life to be the same.

That was why she had so badly wished that all True Love couples could go through some kind of misunderstanding so that her parents could see her point of view.

But, of course, the next morning, realizing the harm her wish had caused her parents had made her regret it, and now she had no idea how to fix the situation.

David tried to reassure the girl, telling her that they would soon find a cure to fix everything.

~·~·~·~

And that was exactly what Regina did. Fixed it. In no time she produced the antidote for the Proteus’ curse. That was the name of this curious magic that swapped True Love’s bodies. The mayor gave to all the couples affected some little bottles that they had to drink to reverse the curse.

Killian and Emma were standing in his hotel room at Granny’s. Facing each other. Two vials on the table next to them.

“So,” she said, “this is it. Back to our original selves.”

“Aye, that’s the idea. Are we sure Regina didn’t put anything strange into these liquids? I wouldn’t like to wake up tomorrow with a dragon face or similar.”

“I think we can trust her.” But she didn’t move to reach for the bottles.

He saw her hesitation. “What is it, love?”

“I was thinking about something you said this morning.”

She was clearly uncomfortable, so he tried to lighten the moment. “You shall have to be more specific, I said many things.”

“I’m glad you chose to not take a shower. Not until we’re back to normal.”

“No need to thank me.” He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, but it was strange for him to notice his stubble under the fingertips.

“Yeah, well…”

She was still hesitant, he could sense it. “Is there anything else you would like to tell me? Or shall we proceed to…” He said, indicating the vials.

She looked at him hesitantly and he nodded, to let her know that she could tell him anything, whatever it was that was worrying her.

“Uh… given that we haven’t taken that next step already in our relationship… you know… we could try things.”

This attracted his curiosity. “Define things.”

“I was thinking… what if we take advantage of this situation to get to know each other better. I mean… we could for example take that bath together.”

Killian was starting to understand what she was trying to say, but he wasn’t sure to be on the same track. “Even though I do find myself devilishly handsome, I’d rather be you, all of you, on the other end of my attentions.”

She laughed, releasing some of the tension. “But we have this opportunity to feel what the other would feel when we touch each other, isn’t it interesting? And I'm glad I'm not the one who has to get on tiptoe to be able to kiss you.” She grinned. “So, what do you say?”

She was being serious, she really wanted to try it. But what did he want? He stared at her for a few beats of their hearts. Then he shook his head. “No.”

“No?” She was surprised.

“No.” He repeated. “As much as it does sound intriguing and tantalizing, I still prefer our first time to be the way it should be. And believe me, Emma, when we decide to take that step, we will know what the other one is feeling, maybe not in the most literal meaning of the word, but we will know it. And it will be perfect. Just as I want it to be.”

A million thoughts seemed to cross her mind, but in the end, she understood his point of view and smiled at him. “Ok.” She went closer and tilted her head until she could feel his lips on hers... or vice versa. The kiss was short but still intimate.

“And by the way, I do not like to be the one who has to get on tiptoe to be able to kiss you,” Killian muttered.

She burst out laughing.

#cs ff #gender swap #my writing

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wordsfromthesol · 5 years

Text

I Don’t Need a Babysitter (1/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Warnings: Uhmmmm…violence kinda? Cursing probably? Word Count: 1.8k Requested: @lemontree205

Part Two

“Hey Bats, I could really use a favor.”

“Hal Jordan asking for my help. What could be so important?”

“The Corps is sending me on another deep space mission. I’m still not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

“I’m sure we can hold down the fort here on Earth without you Hal.”

“No…that’s not. Listen, my kid sister is at Gotham University. I’d been checking up on her, but now I won’t be able to.”

Bruce held up his hand in acknowledgement. “You got it Hal.”

“Listen, she doesn’t know…”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on going up to her in the Bat suit.”

“Awe man, so even she’ll know who Batman is before I do?”

“No.” Before Hal could question him further, Bruce climbed into the Zeta Tube and was gone.

“Alright boys. I have an assignment for you.” Bruce looked around at his boys all sitting at the dining room table. “Y/N Y/L/N.” He threw a file on the table.

“What’d she do? Drug runner? Arms dealer? Assassin?” Jason started spurting off anything he could think of.

“GL’s half-sister?” Tim questioned as he scanned through the file.

“Don’t tell me we are babysitting.” Jason huffed out, clearly agitated.

“No. I just need someone to check on her every day. You can all take turns.”

“How did you rope us into this?” Dick arched his eyebrow and smirked towards his adoptive father.

“Hal asked for a favor. And it’s family.”

“Alright, we’ll check on the brat. Is she at least close by?” Jason words were sharp yet understanding. It was for family.

“Gotham University, Junior, Double Major, Physics and Structural Engineering.” Tim rattled off the facts in the file.

“I still do not see the purpose in this. Can the girl not defend herself?” Damian finally spoke up.

“I’m sure she can, but I’d rather be safe.” Bruce tried to explain to his youngest.

“I’ll take tomorrow.”

“Jay, did I just hear you offer to take the first shift?” Dick’s eyebrows raised questioningly.

“I figure then I won’t have to ruin my weekend.”

As night fell Jason left for patrol. He stopped by your apartment every few hours, watching as all you seemed to do was study. Finally, Jason got bored and headed back to the cave.

“This girl is so boring. Why does she need us to check on her?” Jason complained to Tim as soon as he arrived.

“I’m sure Hal is just worried. He doesn’t know how long this mission will take.”

“Well, fair warning…bring a book on your shift.”

This went on for a few weeks and all the boys were getting bored with your lifestyle.

“I don’t understand how all she does is study.” Jason complained yet again.

“I have theorized she simply has no companions.” Damian joined in.

“Maybe she just prefers her studies. People can be tiresome.” Tim reasoned, understanding of your demeanor.

“But even you break away from the computer sometimes Timmy.” Dick pointed out.

“It just baffles me that she’s related to Hal at all.” Tim thought about the Green Lantern’s personality in comparison to yours. “Wait…it’s Wednesday night. Whose turn is it? Shouldn’t they be out by now?”

The boys all looked around at one another, unsure of whose shift it was.

Finally. You thought peering out your window. There was no sign of any vigilantes staring you down. Though you had to admit, their presence did force you to study a lot more than usual. Worried that your time was limited, you stalked out of your apartment and headed to an abandoned warehouse – your usual training spot.

Your muscles ached at the movements. The two weeks you had gone without were really taking their toll. You stepped out of the warehouse and immediately realized you’d been found. Shit. Not only could you feel someone watching you, your eyes darted immediately to the vigilante. You just told them more than they needed to know with one look.

They soon figured out that Jason, unshockingly, was the one missing patrol. He set out immediately and a panic set in when he got to your apartment and you were no where in sight. Thankfully, with Tim’s help they were able to trace your location.

Jason waited on a nearby rooftop, catching glimpses of your routine through the dirty and broken windows. What is she doing? Your eyes darted to him as soon as you stepped outside. That couldn’t be a coincidence. That skill comes with training. He waited, wondering what you would do next, though he was slightly disappointed, as you continued forward as if you hadn’t seen him at all. That’s impossible right. She looked right at me. Didn’t she?

You knew you had to play this right. Hal had gone too far sending babysitters while he was away. As if you didn’t know he was a Green Lantern. As if he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. You decided to pretend as if you hadn’t seen Red Hood at all, going on your way back to your apartment. Though you were disappointed you didn’t see any action tonight, at least you were able to train. As you got back you immediately went to sleep, hoping to throw off any suspicions the vigilante had.

Now she’s just going to sleep? I need to get into that warehouse. Jason headed back the way you came and crawled in through one of the broken windows. He looked around, both in confusion and shock. Targets littered with bullets and arrows filled the walls. Training dummies and equipment were scattered about the space. Upon further investigation he even stumbled upon a locked room. He rang Tim upon seeing the security system connected to the door.

“Hey Timbo, you busy?”

“I guess not. What did do you? Did you find Y/N?”

“Yeah yeah, she’s asleep. I’m looking into something and it’s got a security system. Do you have a minute to hack it?”

“I suppose, but you owe me. Take my shift tomorrow for babysitting.”

“Done.” Jason would’ve offered to take it anyways. You were just starting to get interesting.

Jason was in awe as he pushed open the door. The weapons and gadgets cache was truly impressive, especially for a college student. There can’t be a vigilante in Gotham we don’t know about…right? He thought to himself as he rifled through your stash. Jason was fully invested and completely caught off guard when you approached behind him, pistol aimed at his chest.

“Care to leave my shit alone Hood?”

“Care to tell me why you have all this shit?”

“Not really.” Silence ensued as he slowly picked up one of the throwing knives and inspected it. You holstered your gun, “Look. If my brother sent you, I’m releasing you from service. Clearly, I can take care of myself.”

“But you were so boring!”

“Yeah, on purpose. So you idiots would leave me alone. You weren’t exactly subtle with the check-ins.” You walked over and grabbed the throwing knife from his hand. “Then again neither was Hal.”

“Wait, you know?”

“Dude, he’s not exactly subtle with the glowing green shit.”

“Hm. So are you a vigilante? Why haven’t I heard of you?”

“Probably because I don’t go around in some ridiculous costume.”

“Ha! So you are a vigilante.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know if I would call it that. Either way, your services aren’t needed.”

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think I could get out of them. Batman kinda promised your brother we’d keep an eye on you.”

“Wow. He must be desperate to ask the Bat for a favor. What happened?”

“Uhm…I’m not sure –” Jason words were cut off as you brought a small dagger to his throat. “Okay okay.” He threw his hands up in defense. “All Hal said was the Corps were sending him on a deep space mission. He didn’t know how long before he would be back.”

“He’s been on those before. What are you not telling me?”

“That’s all I know!”

You sighed, dropping the dagger to the floor. “Dammit Hal.” You mumbled, knowing full well there was more to this.

“So why,” Jason gestured around, “all this.”

“It started a few months after Hal became Green Lantern…wait, what am I getting out of telling you this?”

“How about I help you find out what’s really going on.” You look at him, skeptical. “I guarantee I have a lot more resources than you, no offense.”

“Fine.” You continued with your story, “Anyways, as soon as I found out I knew the idiot would become a target. Me being family, automatically makes me a target too.”

“So this is all out of self-preservation?” Jason questioned, he had watched you for weeks, he knew there had to be more to it.

“Yes and no. I never want to make Hal chose between saving me or saving the world. Hell even saving me or saving one other person. So I began to train and every now and then I head to the Narrows to get some real world experience…with the added bonus of helping people.”

From then on the two of you were virtually inseparable. Jason did everything he could to get his brothers shifts to watch you. Whether it was making bets he knew he would lose or asking for favors. He always made sure you knew if he wasn’t your babysitter for the night. Unfortunately, the two of you had found virtually nothing on why your brother was so worried about you. Granted you didn’t have much to go on to begin with.

“He’s hiding something, right?” Dick asked Tim and Damian one night while Jason was out with you.

“It does seem like Todd has been trying to obtain babysitting duty. He purposefully lost a bet with Drake just yesterday.” Damian commented on the matter.

“And one with me last week.”

“You don’t think he’s skipping out?” Tim asked with a worried expression.

“He better not, Bruce would have all our heads. Look up his location.” Dick motioned to Tim, suddenly concerned about his brother’s nightly activities.

Tim’s eyes grew wide. “He’s at a warehouse.”

“What? Where?”

“Dick…there’s something we didn’t tell you. Remember that night we forgot whose turn it was?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, Y/N wasn’t at her apartment. I was able to trace her through traffic cams to a warehouse. This warehouse.”

“And now they are back there?”

“That’s not all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I didn’t think it meant anything. But later that same night Jason had me hack a security system. I checked his location…he was back at that warehouse.”

“So what is it?”

“It seems to have been abandoned years ago.”

“Why do we not just go see for ourselves?” Damian interjected.

“Good point, Dami. Let’s suit up…just in case.”

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fandom-blackhole · 4 years

Text

Hayloft- Ezra x Reader P.6 Final

AN: Well here we are guys.... I really want to thank everyone who has given this story a chance. I know I'm not a the best writer but it really is one of my passions and with all of the support I've gotten for Hayloft especially, I am hoping to continue writing and maybe even complete my childhood dream of being a published author (though that will be way in the future)! If you enjoyed this, you should go show some love to my sister, @space-nerd2005, because without her this story either wouldn’t have been even written/published or would have only been a one-shot! For now I just want everyone to know that I'm really happy that you're all here and you've supported me! 💕💕💕 (Also Happy Valentines Day!)

Masterlist

Words: 3.8k!

Warnings: sex mentioned but not really described, the father talks again so berating and abusive language, fighting, running bc that needs a warning

Sneaking back into the house after that first night in the barn was difficult. Neither Ezra nor I wanted to separate, and we had stalled until it had almost been too late. But, in the end, we didn’t get caught again. Our nighttime visits resumed again after that night, though now I was sneaking out to see him almost every night, not able to stand being away from him any longer. Gone also were the nights of being apart from each other in any way. While not every night was filled with passionate touches and pleasure, each night was spent holding each other and trying to soothe the aches of being apart all day.

Sleep soon became the least of my priorities and it showed during the day. I was constantly tired and it made the days seem to drag on. Nights on the other hand always seemed to pass too quickly as I tried in vain to grasp and hold onto the stolen moments that Ezra and I were able to share. I noticed that Ezra was also being affected by the lack of sleep, when I worked with them in the field I noticed him yawning in the middle of sentences, but when I would bring it up at night when we were alone he would always look scared and pull me closer saying he was fine and then ask me not to leave.

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

Shortly after the nightly visits to the barn started, and about a month away from when Ezra’s ship would arrive to take him away, as I climbed my way into the hayloft and faced Ezra, I was met with a sight I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Ezra was sitting against the far wall of the loft with the lantern on, his shirt off, and my Edgar Allan Poe book held in his hand. I had not thought of my books until that moment, my mind too distracted with other thoughts to think to wonder where they had disappeared to after the confrontation that had happened in that small spare bedroom.

Walking over to Ezra now though, I could see that he had all of them, except for the one he was holding, tucked away into his small bag, keeping them safe. Looking up at what I assume to be the sound of my footsteps, Ezra smiled and motioned for me to sit down next to him, and once I had settled, with my head on his shoulder, I spoke softly. “I feel somewhat ashamed. I had not even realized that my books were missing until just a few seconds ago when I saw you with Poe.”

Turning and pressing a kiss to my forehead Ezra answered just as softly, “No need to be ashamed, my delicate and beautiful flower. Your mind has been preoccupied with things that have taken you far from worrying about our shared writing friends. Not to worry though, I have kept them safe and away from anything that could harm their precious pages. I believe that when your brother was gathering my things to bring out here to me he saw the books and assumed they were mine. I didn’t say anything, and selfishly kept them, when I should have returned them to you, but those lonely nights without you were hard on my old soul and these books that held a small portion of you brought me solace. Especially, our dear friend Poe who brought us together. Whenever I missed you most I would find my aching fingers turning to the poem I recited for you that first day and I would read it over and over until I fell into my fitful and aching slumber.”

Looking at the book now, I noticed that he was once again staring at the page that held the poem. It was obvious that this page had been visited more often than naught, as the page showed signs of wear and a few crinkles where the page most likely creased when he fell asleep with it in his hand. Lifting my head to look at Ezra, and already finding him watching me with what I hoped to be love in his eyes, I gave him a smile and bit my lip before opening my mouth and reciting the poem back to him.

“In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed;

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him, with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream, that holy dream,

While all the world was chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,

So trembled from afar―

What could there be more purely bright

In Truth’s day-star?”

As I watched his face while speaking the same lines he had spoken to me what feels like decades ago at this point, though only a few short months ago, his face morphed into a loving smile. I watched as the soft smile he had turned wider, and the crinkles next to his eyes deepened, and his dimple peeked out beneath his facial hair deepened. After I finished, I blushed and turned away from his gaze.

“I, um...I read that poem almost nightly after we first walked back here to the farm together. I couldn’t bring myself to read past that poem either, it was always just that one, and I always only heard your voice echoing it in my head as my eyes read along the lines. That was all before we started meeting at night….”

After my admission, Ezra had set the book aside, carefully placing it with the others. Then he carefully picked up my hand kissed my palm before sliding my hand to rest on his cheek as he pulled me into his lap. As soon as I was close enough he started kissing me, starting with small soft pecks on the corners of my mouth before moving on to full kissing my lips. He slowly worked the kisses from soft to passionate.

That night we sat against the wall and as Ezra held me and made love to me, he continuously whispered and recited our poem. For once he didn’t drawl on about this or that, only softly and huskily reciting those words over and over into my ear in between kisses and nips and moans of my name.

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

The days were counting down too quickly for my taste. I was scared, in all honesty. I felt as if I had finally gotten Ezra, but I still hadn’t fully gotten him in the way that I longed for. I wanted to be able to spend every waking moment with him. I wanted to be able to feel his touch whenever without worrying about my father. I want to be able to walk up and kiss him. I want to be able to make love with him in a bed for once. I want so much, still, and time is running out. Even as I sit close to Ezra and listen to him speak about just whatever is going through his mind, I can’t help but worry about what is going to happen in only a few week’s time. Will I have to watch as the man I have come to love walks away from me forever? Will he decide to stay with me and settle down on K-5? Or will he take me with him and into that big ship that comes for him, taking me with him on every adventure following?

“...lower? Darling? Are you back with me yet,” coming back to the present I am met with Ezra’s soft smile and teasing eyes, as he rubs the palm of my hand with his thumb. “What has taken you away from me, flower? For your eyes seemed to be a million miles away from here, and I must say I am slightly worried that you may have finally grown tired of my endless drawl. Tell me, please?”

Shaking my head with a small laugh, I returned his smile. “I’m sorry, Ez. I can assure you that I am far from tired of listening to you talk. I always look forward to getting to listen to you…”

“Then what is stealing your attention from me, flower? I can tell that something is bothering you, and it has me slightly worried. You can talk to me about anything, I promise you no harsh judgments, I could never think or speak anything unsavory when it comes to you, my lovely flower.”

As he speaks, Ezra reaches over to me and pulls my bottom lip free from my teeth as he has done so many times before. We sit in silence for a few moments, before I take a deep breath and quietly whisper, “What is going to happen in the next few weeks? After the harvest is done, and the ship comes for you?”

Watching Ezra’s eyes as I spoke, I saw them get a sad hue to them. I watched as Ezra swallowed and he said in a solemn tone, “I cannot stay flower. I must leave with that ship….but I don’t have to leave alone. Flower, you could come with me, I would more than love to take care of you out there, and show you the universe that you have only seen through stories...That is of course if that is what you want. I will not push you into leaving your family, or your planet, but know that leaving without you by my side will break me. I know that what we have hasn’t lasted long but I know for certain that this is special. I know without a shadow of doubt that I have fallen completely for you. And, if I were to leave you behind, I would end up leaving my heart and soul along with you. I love you, flower…”

Crying, I move my hands to hold Ezra’s face and I press my forehead to his own. For a few seconds, we sit like this and as I run my thumbs across his cheeks, Ezra wraps his arm around my waist.

“You honestly think that I’m going to stay on this Kevva forsaken planet when the man that holds my heart and soul is leaving? If you will have me, I am coming with you. I love you, Ezra, and if you left me here, I fear that I would waste away from the heartbreak.”

“I swear flower, you make me the happiest man in the known universe. If you had said anything about not coming with me I think I would have left this mortal body from the sadness alone. I don’t think I could ever be far from you again.”

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

After we both agreed that we would be leaving K-5 together when the time came in the following weeks, we started planning how exactly we were going to accomplish running away with each other. We both knew that my father would try and stop us, so we couldn’t risk him finding out any part of our plans. And as much as I hated it, I had decided to leave Anthony in the dark as well. I knew that, yes, in the past few months the two of us had gotten closer, but I still didn’t know how he would react if I told him. I still remember what he had said to me in the kitchen and I planned to keep that promise, but I couldn’t find it in me to tell him, still too scared that he might tell my father and dash all hope of me getting off this planet.

Ezra and I’s plan was simple, really. The plan was to have everything packed and ready to go the night before the ship would make its way to town. After my father goes to bed I would go to Anthony, say my goodbyes, and grab the money that was owed to Ezra for his work before going to the hayloft, with my packed things. That night Ezra and I would stay together and in the early morning light, we would leave for town. If everything went well, we both should be loaded onto the ship and gone before my father noticed that I hadn’t just gone on my usual Saturday morning supply run. Simple, as long as everything went accordingly.

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

The weeks and days ticked by quickly, and my anxiety continuously rose. Ezra tried to calm me, giving me soft words and holding me at night, but I could tell that he himself was getting anxious as well. As the last week came, each night we would greet each other and do just about anything to distract ourselves from the looming escape. And as Friday came, I found that my bottom lip was chewed raw from the anxiety and anticipation for what was to come, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing the bad habit, only wincing when I brushed over an especially sore spot on my lip.

The day itself was rather uneventful. I once again was doing laundry away from the other three, as they pulled in the last of the harvest. Before I had even realized it, it was time for dinner and as we all sat down for dinner, we ate in silence for the first time in what felt like forever. Surprisingly enough it was my father who broke that silence as we were all finishing up our food.

“You’re quiet for once in your life it seems. It almost seems suspicious,” my father spoke watching Ezra with careful eyes. To which Ezra just gave him an easy smile, and replied, “No reason to be suspicious, I assure you. I am just tired and the food was just too good to take breaks for speaking.”

“Hmmm, well I hope you enjoyed it because it’s gonna be your last meal here, I’ll have your money waiting outside in the morning and I want you gone by first light. If you’re not, well, only having one arm is gonna be the least of your problems.”

With that said, my father left the table and went straight to his bedroom. Looking back to Ezra, I found him looking down at his plate with a blank expression, his face neutral to whatever emotion was running through him at that moment. Glancing over at Anthony I found him watching me, and watched him open his mouth before speaking quietly.

“Listen, I don’t know what you two have planned, but dad has something planned as well. If you are leaving, I hope it’s gonna be before he has had a chance to even get up in the morning.”

Looking back to Ezra, I only saw him nod before he left the table as well. I watched as he grabbed his folded clothes, looked back at me with a small smile, and then walked out the back door. After he was gone, Anthony helped me clear the table and do the dishes, him drying as I cleaned, per our newer routine. And, after we had finished and before he could walk out of the kitchen, I wrapped my arms around him.

“We are leaving in the morning. We hope to be gone by the time dad figures out I am not coming back from doing the shopping…”

“So this is goodbye, then?”

“Yeah, this is goodbye…”

With a hug and a kiss on my forehead, Anthony smiled at me and then left the kitchen, going upstairs to his room. Once again, I found myself standing in the kitchen losing track of time as I thought about what had just happened between Anthony and I. After I came back to the present though, I went and found the money my father had for Ezra, before making my way up to my room.

Once in my room, I pulled the sack of belongings I had packed from underneath my bed where I had kept them hidden. Setting the bag on my bed I stashed the money away in one of the pockets before slinging the bag over my shoulder. Once again, I found myself stopping and looking around my room, taking everything in for one last time. When I found myself close to tears, I knew that it was time to leave, before the what ifs started to float around my head.

Making a quick and quiet escape out to the barn. Within minutes I was in the hayloft I found myself immediately being pulled into Ezra’s embrace. And, once I was in his arm, I felt a little bit of the stress that had built up this past month finally fade as I clutched him tightly.

“I am sorry for how my father has spoken to you these last few months. Nobody deserves to be treated the way he has treated you.”

“I would live through his constant torment and degradation of my character every day, if it meant that I could be with you. Flower, I do not care what he says to me, while his words may hurt, at the end of the day I still have you and you still have me no matter what he says or does. I love you so much, flower.”

“I love you too, Ezra.”

With that said Ezra lead me to the spot where he had been spending his nights. As we both laid down, Ezra held me close and whispered in my ear, as his hand trailed up my shirt. “Just one more time, for memory’s sake, flower?” And with my nodded consent Ezra brought me slow soft pleasure in the hayloft of my family’s barn before we drifted off to sleep for the first time holding each other.

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

When I awoke the next morning, it was still dark out, and it was to Ezra’s soft kisses all over my face. Smiling, I moved one of my hands to cradle his face and pull him into a kiss, before whispering him a good morning feeling his smile grow across my lips.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to the feeling of waking up with you next to me. I am not completely sure that I have not left the mortal realm in my sleep and have awakened to an angel in what many have called heaven.”

Laughing I nuzzled my nose into his neck and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I do not think I will ever get used to being woken up by a waxing poet every morning.”

Feeling Ezra's laugh, I pulled away from him and got up from the makeshift bed to pull the clothes that had been thrown from my body the night before back on. Hearing movement behind me, I knew that Ezra was doing the same, and when I turned around, I smiled softly as I found him pulling on one of the shirts I had gifted him, the pants already covering his beautifully strong legs. Catching me looking, Ezra smirked.

“See something you like, flower? Because I know I do.” Moving over to where I stand with a blindingly wide smile, Ezra leans down and gives me a chaste kiss before walking over to our bags, as I followed behind. Grabbing mine and handing it to me, I slid it on as Ezra turned and grabbed his own. Once both bags were secure Ezra turned back to me, this time looking slightly unsure. “Are you ready, flower?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. Ezra,” I say, and take his hand and hold his face. “Take me far away from here. Show me the universe and every secret you know.”

Leaning in, Ezra and I share one last passionate kiss before we made our way down the ladder and into the main portion of the barn. Once, we were both safely there, we both reached for the other’s hand as we walked to the barn door.

Right before we reached the doors, I was struck by the feeling that something was wrong. Before I could say anything, we reached the opening of the barn and I immediately realize why I felt that way, and judging by the way Ezra’s hand tightened in my own, he noticed as well. In the house the kitchen lights were on, and in the back doorway, there was the silhouette of my father holding what could only be his thrower rifle that he had stashed in the house.

With the soft light of the rising sun, there was no way that my father didn’t see us standing there with our hands linked together. The three of us stood there, no one daring to move and inch, until my father moved the thrower and pointed it towards what I could only assume to be Ezra. He didn’t fire, but he did yell from the doorway, “I told you that there would be consequences, and I told you to stay away from my daughter. But all you do is talk so why did I expect you to know how to listen? Leave. Now. Before I decide to blow your brains out.”

Looking to Ezra with panic written across my face I only found him with a scowl on his face, as he held my hand tighter. And just as I went to whisper his name, Ezra spoke up and yelled back across to my father, “I was leaving right when you interrupted our departure. Now just lower the gun and we’ll be on our merry way. Out of your hair forever-”

“Like hell I am letting you take her. She’s staying right here and you are walking to town and leaving forever.”

Scared and on the verge of crying, I looked back towards my father, only to notice movement behind him. Ezra must have noticed as well because he laced his fingers with mine and whispered, get ready to run, before yelling back to my father. “I think you’ll find that she isn’t inclined to stay on this planet a day longer. She is leaving with me.”

(Thank you all again, you guys have made the last couple of months really amazing for me! I'm always looking for some interaction so please come say hi! I am planning out two more things coming in the future, a one-shot and another multipart fic! I am also always open to expanding this fic so if you have questions I would LOVE to answer them! As always likes, comments, and especially reblogs are super appreciated! I always love your guys’ feedback!)

Tags: @babybelou @farrvey @anatanotegami @revolution-starter @cadelinhadopedropascal @lucifurrr @coolfishoperatoreagle @pugdalorian @callsigncatfish @marydjarin @jeeperky (user with crossed out names I couldn’t tag, sorry!)

#pedro pascal #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #prospect #ezra (prospect) x reader

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paintdface · 4 years

Text

moths to a flame: one

“i know you don’t like to think of it as a celebration, but i couldn’t help myself.” he shrugs his stocky shoulders. calloused hands reach for the crystal and holds it in the air. “because if anything, we can celebrate that night bringing us together. i’m happy you’re in my life.”

reader x din djarin horror/thriller modern au.

tw: blood, kidnap, hospital mention, some mentions of nsfw content.

word count: 3.4k.

A/N: i hope you enjoy this story as much as i enjoy writing it. i would love to hear what you think of it! a pinterest board for this story is here. the preface to this part is here. the header is by @/packsparadise.

… twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.

your eyes fly open beneath the surface of the water. everything above is obscured by the bath water. you can barely make out the tiles on the walls or the color of your shower curtain. you wait a few more seconds to see how long you can stay underwater before you spring to life. bath water sloshes over the sides with a quiet splash. you gasp for air like the way you did years ago on that godforsaken road. this time you don’t feel the icy air fill your lungs and you’re grateful. gripping the sides of the tub, you fix your gaze on the dripping faucet, feeling your heart race in your chest. your ex-therapist told you to focus on something when you felt this way— when you felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest.

that was the only good thing they ever taught you.

sinking back into the water, you let the bath water sit at your chin. it’s cold now. cold and still. you’ve been in the bath so long your fingers are pruny. a foot peeks out of the water, painted toes curl around the shower valve to turn on the hot water. you welcome the feeling of warmth again.

your gaze drifts from the faucet to the phone resting on top of the bathroom counter. although it was turned off, you kept it close just in case. you dreaded the inevitable moment you’d turn it back on. you would be greeted with missed calls, texts and emails. some from the few friends you have left, some from reporters, some from family and one from him. from the man who saved you on the worst night of your life.

you said he didn’t have to keep in contact with him even though you wanted him to. you understood that he had a life of his own; one that didn’t involve sticking around for you when you needed comfort. but, he insisted. he said he wanted to keep track of you. he wanted to make sure you were safe. after all this time he cared.

once the water runs cold again, you finally rise from the basin. water drips off your skin, the droplets echoing in the empty bathroom. you grab the towel from the rack and wrap it around your body before stepping out. the bathroom mirror is foggy making your face look distorted. your features are no longer visible. you only see a silhouette and hair— not the slope of your nose, not the mascara smudged around your sleepless eyes, not the scars littering your skin. reaching forward, you wipe at the mirror until familiar pieces of you are revealed.

you’re grateful you recognize yourself today.

reluctantly, you grab your phone before exiting the bathroom. instead of getting dressed you collapse on to the unmade bed. your finger holds down the on button of your phone and you place it face down on your chest. it only takes a few seconds for it to begin buzzing. notifications light up the screen.

“shit.”

you could turn it off. you could ignore the prying questions and condolences. you could run away. yet, you turn it back on and look.

the date lights up the screen. the anniversary of the day you were saved. it should be a day for celebration. after all, you survived. but the way exhaustion clings to your limbs and sleep is heavy on your eyes puts you in no mood to celebrate.

combing through the endless messages, you skim the sentences and delete almost half. emails from curious journalists make you roll your eyes.

sent at 8:03: hi my name is amy daniels from the new york times and i was wondering if i could get a comment about the anniversary…

delete.

sent at 10:36: good morning, i am the producer of a nightly news talk show at cnn and i wanted to know if you would be interested…

delete.

sent at 11:17: this is jose ramos from realtruecrimefans.com messaging you again about your thoughts on your kidnapper, riley williams, current whereabouts…

your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of his name. you try to avoid thinking about him. you avoid saying his name. the last time you said his name is when you wrote about him in your memoir. his name wasn’t worth the energy it took to say his name.

riley williams was dead. at least to you he’s dead. no one has seen or heard from him since you ran away. the police searched for weeks to no avail. search parties went out at night combing through the woods to search for him. it didn’t take long for the media to pick up a story of a beautiful girl gone missing and found in the woods after breaking free. for weeks after your escape, his picture was everywhere. it was a nation wide manhunt. it continued once you wrote your memoir titled “forty-seven days in hell: my personal journey” and everyone wanted to be the one to put him in jail.

yet, no one found him. he was gone.

a few deep breaths later and you’re continuing to weed out messages. everything felt like bullshit. even the texts from the few friends you had left lacked genuineness. you sent back half-assed replies and listened to the voicemails, but never called anyone back. there was only one person you wanted to hear from today.

din.

you scroll until you see his name. he texted you early this morning. he texted you when he knew you would be asleep.

din: hey, darling. hope you slept well. call me if you need anything.

you smile. something you loved about din is he never pushed your boundaries. he gave you your space, but knew if you needed him, he’d be there. even though he didn’t live in the city, he always came. he was always there when you wanted him.

you hit the call button and listen. it only takes a few rings before you hear the low, steady tone of his soothing voice.

“hey, you’re up.”

“i am… are you surprised?”

the sound of his muffled laughter chimes on the other end. “maybe a little,” he pauses for a moment. “how are you holding up?” you can tell he’s nervous to ask because he’s not sure what the answer will be.

you sigh. rolling over on to your stomach, you shrug like he can see you. “i’m okay.” you’re not sure what to say. deep down you’re not fine, but you crave normalcy. you want to feel normal. “it just feels… weird. today should be like any other day, but it’s not.” your confession surprises you.

“we can make it normal.” the sound of ‘we’ makes your heart flutter. “i was planning on coming to the city for business. we can meet for dinner?”

you know he’s probably not coming to the city for work, but he’s coming for you. every year since he saved you he came into the city on the anniversary. he’d meet you for dinner at the same restaurant, at the same table and you two would act normal when you really weren’t.

“i’d love that. same place?”

“same place at seven.” you can hear movement on the other end. the sound of grogu barking in the background makes you happy. you miss him. “hey, darling?”

“yes?”

“if you need me to come earlier, i will. just say the word and i’m there.”

your eyes flutter shut. god, he was the only one you ever wanted. the only one who treated you like a person. “i will.” but you know you won’t. “i’ll see you then.”

“i’ll see you then. take care of yourself, darling.” and then the line goes cold and the familiar beep tells you he hung up.

—

shaky hands reach for the heat pouring out of the vents. your hugging the heat and the door; both for warmth and for a quick escape in case your hero turns out to be a villain. you’ve already learned your lesson about trusting people. the only sound filling the truck’s cabin is the engine revving as the driver tears through the roads, your teeth chattering and the dog at your neck happily panting.

it’s only until he finally says something. “what’s your name?”

“d-darling.”

he quickly glances away from the road and in your direction. “what kind of name is darling?”

“my name. that’s my name.” you hate how bitter you sound. you should be grateful.

“okay…” he clears his throat and continues driving for awhile before finally breaking the silence again. “what happened to you? who took you? who did this to you?” he sounded concerned and calm, yet there was a hint of anger lacing his words.

you’re reluctant to say anything, but you knew you should get used to telling your tale. you’d have to say it a hundred more times: to police, to journalists, to your family. “he said his name was riley,” you shudder at the name. hopefully, you’ll never have to say his name again. “we met at a bar and i thought he was nice, but he— he—” you can’t get the words out. the sound of sobs cut through your words. everything was catching up to you. the gravity of the situation weighed you down, tying you to earth. tethering you to this smelly truck with a big eyed dog and a pair of mysterious brown eyes. “please just get me out of here!”

you can hear him swallow hard. “it’s okay. just stay calm. we’re almost at the main roads.” he glances over at you. you can barely make out his face in the dark, but you still see those beautiful brown eyes. something to cling to— another beacon of hope. “there’s a police station a few miles out. i know the captain. he’ll help you.”

shaking, your arms wrap around you, like you’re protecting yourself. no matter how tight you hug yourself you can’t stop trembling. your feet are numb, your eyes are heavy, your head hurts and the emptiness in your stomach catches up with you. weakly you utter, “wh-what’s your name?” “din. my name is din.”

despite your better judgement your eyes begin to flutter and your body goes numb. it gets harder to breathe, but you’re too tired to care. it’s easier to give in to the darkness. you’ve done enough; there’s no more fight left.

“din.” it’s the last thing you say before your eyes flutter shut and pass out. you don’t wake again until you’re in a hospital bed. you scream his name until a nurse runs in and you demand to see the man that saved you. you pull at the i.v. needle in your arm, thrash in the scratchy sheets and rip at the oxygen at your nose until they sedate you.

hours later you’re awake and he’s at your bedside. he doesn’t leave until visiting hours are over. he’ll keep coming back until you ask him not to— which is never.

—

it takes you a long time to peel yourself off of the bed. your silhouette is imprinted on the bed from lying there in a wet towel for so long. the white cotton towel falls at your feet. it takes you forever to file through your closet to find the right outfit. you’re looking for something in between fancy and not trying too hard. you wanted to look good; you’re not sure if it’s for din or yourself.

you settle on a dress and boots. the dress had been worn a million times and the boots had walked miles through new york, but they’re your favorite. it’s like wearing a safety blanket. you take your time getting ready considering it’s hours until seven. you drift around your apartment with a glass of red wine in hand. your biggest vice is cheap red wine. it was something to make you forget. a glass of hope, you lovingly told your concerened best friend.

the more you drink the more you feel like you’re floating. you have plenty of room to roam considering how spacious your apartment is— it’s far too big for a single person in new york. you were only able to afford it from the royalties you made off your book. turns out writing a book about your trauma and exposing your open wounds to the world had its perks. who knew?

—

you ended up dancing barefoot in your apartment with a glass of red wine spilling from your glass as you moved. you didn’t care about the stains on the overly priced rug in your living room, you were just happy to feel something good again. the future of seeing din again and the warm feeling the wine gave you was your miniature escape. when you glance at your phone you realize you’re almost late. curse words are shouted out into your apartment as you stumble your way towards the front door, balancing your bag and putting on your shoes as you went.

despite your late start, you make it to the restaurant on time. the minute you walk in your eyes are settled on the table in the corner. it’s the same table he always got for you. din’s back is turned to you, but you notice the familiar mop on his head and the broad shoulders enclosed by the only suit he owned. same old din, you think. sighing, your chest rises and falls as you watch him. you watch as he talks to the waiter and sip at his glass, occasionally looking down at his watch, wondering if this time you’ll be late. smiling, you walk to the back of the restaurant.

“hi,” you greet him. it doesn’t take long for him to stand up and pull you into his arms. you collide with his strong torso and your arms circle around his middle. you bury your face into his chest and his chin is tucked in to the top of your head. his cologne lingers on his collar— warm spice and must. your favorite. it feels perfect. it was what you longed for all day. you wished the embrace lasted longer, but he pulls away and gestures towards the seat across from him.

“hey, darling.” he finally says. “glad you could make it.”

you almost roll your eyes. he knows you have nothing else going on. you don’t have a traditional 9-5, you keep to yourself and you never miss a meeting with din. but, he’s nice for saying so. he’s always so nice— a lot nicer and more trusting than you’ve ever been.

“how’s my boy?” you eagerly ask, shedding yourself of your coat.

“grogu?” his brows raise, asking as if there isn’t another floppy eared boy you’d refer to. “he’s good. even though he’s an old man, he still acts like a puppy. it’s like it’s the first day i rescued him from the shelter.” his eyes light up as he talks about grogu. the well trained dog was din’s life. you fell in love with him, too. he made you feel safe the same way din did.

“i miss him…” your words trail off. your eyes peer up from the menu at the other. “i missed you.”

din wets his lips. his eyes are soft as he gazes at you, trying to see if you’ve changed at all since the last time you got together. “i missed you too. it’s been too long.”

“it has.”

you two catch up and go through the pleasantries. you ask about grogu and work and the shitty truck he refuses to give up. he asks you about your writing and if you’re still going to therapy and you lie and say both are going well.

you haven’t written in weeks and stopped going to therapy three months ago.

it doesn’t take long until two champagne flutes are placed in front of you and you can’t help but scoff. of course he would.

even though you didn’t feel like tonight was a night for bubbles and toasts, you grab your glass and mimic him anyway. you don’t do much for other people, but you’ll do this for him.

“to us.” your glass collides with his and you empty its contents.

—

dinner was lovely. you two reminisced on all your memories together, drank too much wine and ate too much food. he watched you devour chocolate cake and cheesecake. you laughed about how you only live once and he was less than pleased with your joke.

afterwards, he insisted on walking you home. you wanted to say that you were fine walking alone, but you’re too selfish and you wanted him around a little longer before he had to go home. you walked in silence, shoulders brushing against one another. occasionally his hand would rest on your lower back to guide you across streets or to pull you closer when strange men got too close. his touch was something you craved.

sometimes, late at night when you were alone and couldn’t sleep, you thought about his touch in other ways. your mind drifted when it skimmed down your stomach and under the covers to travel in between parted thighs. you thought about the sweat on his brow, his worn hands on your hips and his breath hot on your neck. his usual calm, sturdy voice turned more needy and soft— longing for you the way you longed for him. your name falling from parted lips to say, “darling, darling, darling.” just like the flames did. it felt wrong to think of din that way, but you couldn’t help it.

some nights you wondered if he was thinking the same thing, too.

your walk together ended all too soon. his hand removed from the small of your back and were stuffed into his slack pockets. he let out a long sigh before breaking the silence, “guess this is where i go.”

you frown. “din, you can stay the night. i have a couch you can crash on and in the morning you can go home.” you hated how you sounded like you were pleading.

his head dropped. “i gotta get home to grogu and i have work in the morning.” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself not to stay the night.

“can you at least walk me to my door?”

he silently nods and you’re happy for the small victory. the elevator ride up to your apartment is silent just like the walk home and for a moment you feel a tension. it was palpable. you swore you could touch the energy between you two.

or were you making it up?

he walks you to your door and you stop short. there’s an envelope lying on your doorstep. carefully, you approach it, nearly tip toeing it like you’re afraid there’s landmines. like the parchment would blow up in your face.

bending down, you reach for the paper and examine the outside. there’s no address, no postage stamp, nothing. it said: to my darling.

your heart sinks and you can feel din at your side. his hand curls around your forearm. “are you sure you want to open that? could be a stupid prank.” but you don’t say a word. you only proceed to open it with shaky hands. the envelope falls at your feet and you read the contents of the page. a single sentence written in blood:

i’m always watching you, my love. - r.w.

your hands shake and your crumble the paper into a ball and sink to your feet, din is there to catch you, slowly lowering your body to the ground.

all of that work you did in therapy, all the glasses of wine, all the dinners with din went out the window. you felt as small as you did that night. riley williams was alive and he knew exactly where you were. you were no longer safe. you never really were.

one thing was for sure, din was not going home tonight.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mine #moths to a flame

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years

Text

The Demon Prince’s Wedding Part 1 - Truth or Dare Series

It’s been four months since Diavolo’s proposal to Mammon and Arianthi, and their wedding ceremony is only a few days away. The trio has been trying to keep their bond strong even though resentment is brewing between Diavolo and Arianthi. Mammon tries to hold the relationship together, but is fearful he’ll have to eventually choose between his first love and his new love. Arianthi is keeping a secret from her fiances.

This story is told from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

I sit in an armchair in Diavolo’s study, my legs curled beneath me, restlessly tapping my pen against the notebook I’m holding. I stare listlessly into the fireplace, the dancing flames captivating me and drawing my attention away from the list I’ve been perusing.

We are making a huge mistake.

“Arianthi........beloved?” Diavolo’s low voice eventually draws me out of my reverie.

“Mmmm? What’s up Dia?”

I glance over to where he sits bent over his desk, muddling though his nightly paperwork. He’s stripped off his red jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled his shirtsleeves up on his forearms. His auburn hair is disheveled, a sure sign he’s become frustrated at some point and run his fingers through it in irritation.

He’s beautiful.

“Could you light the candles for me?” Diavolo asks absentmindedly, not looking up from the forms he’s signing.

I look around the study in surprise. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t even noticed that the room had grown dark. I give a lazy flick of my wrist and tiny flames burst forth from my fingertips, lighting the dozens of candles strategically placed in the study, and bathing the room in a soft golden glow.

“You’ve gotten very good at that.”

I adjust in my chair to look at Diavolo; he’s gazing at me with a proud smile, his eyes soft and adoring.

“Lucifer’s been helping me train,” I tell him.

Diavolo’s mouth quirks to the side, the barest flicker of annoyance at the mention of his second in command. Several months into our relationship and there are still some bitter personal feelings between himself and our fiance’s eldest brother.

“I saw that,” I murmur, turning my attention back to my list.

Extra food for Beel? Yes. Levi’s fitting for his ceremony outfit? Scheduled for tomorrow.

Diavolo gives a rather undignified snort. “Saw what?”

“That look you get when ever someone mentions Lucifer outside of work.”

“I do not have a look,” he grumbles, shuffling through the papers on his desk.

“Whatever you say my love.” I don’t bother to glance up from my notebook.

Ceremony ribbons? Yes. Extra extra food for Beel? Double check.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my father this evening, have you princess?” Diavolo asks hesitantly.

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and almost give myself an aneurysm.

Fucking Arawn.

“I have not. Do you want me to find him and see if he wants to join you for a late supper?”

Diavolo shakes his head. “I was just curious. I wonder where he’s got off to.”

“Sleeping with one of the servants? Sabotaging the caterers? Eating small children? Torturing one of the Little Ds? Planning yet another way to break up our relationship? Maybe slashing up my wedding dress for funsies?” I toss out several helpful suggestions.

“Princess........” Diavolo sounds exhausted.

“Diavolo.” I arch an eyebrow at him.

“I’m doing my best here Arianthi.” Diavolo visibly tenses behind his desk.

A sound of annoyance breaks low in my throat and I turn my attention back to my list.

My rings for the boys? Locked in the safe at the House of Lamentation.

“Princess.” Diavolo’s tone is soft and cajoling.

I set my notebook on the arm of my chair with a deep sigh and raise my eyes to look at him.

“The man is a menace Dia. I’m tired of him trying to ruin our relationship and seducing the staff. And he absolutely terrorizes the Little Ds. They're scared half to death of him.”

“Five more days my love. Five more days, and once we’re married the transfer of power will be completed and I will be king. Once he has nothing left here to entertain him my father will leave. I promise you.”

I sigh deeply. “Fine. But if I find him having sex with another servant I’m setting them both on fire.”

I pause, thinking back to a day last month.

“I’ll never look at the dining room table the same way ever again,” I shiver in revulsion.

Diavolo pushes his chair back from his desk and holds his arms open. “Come to me. That’s an order from you future king.”

I roll my eyes and huff out a low laugh, crossing the room to settle into his lap. Diavolo gathers me in his arms and holds me tightly to his chest. When he finally speaks I can feel the vibrations of his deep voice.

“I love you. So very, very much.”

I raise my head and press a soft kiss to his jaw. “You better,” I murmur. “Devildom knows you’re a proper handful to deal with.”

He gives a low chuckle, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. I snuggle deeper into his embrace and nuzzle my face into his neck.

“You’re cuddly tonight,” Diavolo whispers, idly playing with my hair.

“I’ve missed you.”

Diavolo frowns. “I’ve been right here princess.”

I frown, toying with the buttons on his shirt. “Not really. I’ve been busy with the last minute details of the wedding, you’ve been working at R.A.D. and with the court, and Mammon’s been working on his new photo campaign with Majolish.......”

“I’m so proud of him.” Diavolo beams.

“I am too,” I answer, returning his smile. “I miss you both though. We haven’t all slept in our bed together in weeks. Or even been able to eat a meal at the same time.”

His arms tighten around me and he brushes his lips against my forehead in a gentle kiss. “Mammon should be home soon. Why don’t you go on and start getting ready for bed? Give me another thirty minutes to finish this paperwork and I’ll come up. We’ll all spend tonight together princess. Promise.”

“I have a proposal concerning our activities for the evening,” I murmur, running my hands through his hair and bringing his face down to mine.

“Mmmm. Tell me more my queen.” He takes my lower lip between his teeth and gives it a gentle tug.

“I’d rather show you.”

He raises his eyebrows, smirking at me, before claiming my mouth in a soft kiss. I sigh into the kiss, reveling in the plush satin of his lips. Diavolo nips at my lower lip, teasing my tongue with his. The kiss quickly turns heated and he works his hands under my shirt, stroking his fingertips along my rib cage.

Someone loudly clears their throat behind us and we break apart, startled.

“Hello Diavolo, Arianthi.”

Arawn stands in the doorway of the study, three lower ranking members of the demon court standing next to him.

I bury my face into Diavolo’s chest and groan.

What now?

“Can I help you father?”

Arawn gestures to the other three demons. “There are a few matters we would like to discuss with you before the ascension ceremony.”

“Of course. Just speak to Barbatos to sche -”

“Tonight.”

I stiffen in Diavolo’s arms. “Dia,” I whisper.

He looks down at me and gives me a sad smile before kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry my love.”

I push myself out of his lap. “You promised.”

“Princess........” He reaches out and grasps at my fingertips.

“Goodnight Diavolo.” I know saying anything else is useless; I’ll be asleep long before he comes to bed.

“Goodnight Arianthi.” Arawn gives me a charming smile as I brush past him to exit the study.

“Piss off old man.”

I hear a shocked gasp from one of the courtiers but I keep walking, making my way to our bedroom.

Arawn is lounging against our bedroom door when I get there.

I close my eyes and count to ten, willing myself not to set his hair on fire,

“Have I told you how much I hate you do this?” I ask, leaning against the banister opposite our door.

“Several times.” He gives me a charismatic grin, a carbon copy of Diavolo’s. “Warding the room against me was a cute move.”

“I hope it hurt,” I answer, looking pointedly at a singe mark on the sleeve of his shirt.

The only reason we had to ward the bedroom was because you showed up naked in our bed trying to get me to sleep with you.

I shudder at the memory.

His eyes widen in mock surprise. “You’re so mean Arianthi......we’re going to be family soon. We should act like it.”

I sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not in the mood for this tonight Arawn. What do you want?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just looking for Mammon.”

“He’s working. He told me about you trying to bribe him into leaving Diavolo the last time you talked to him.” I give him a dirty look.

Arawn pouts at me. “You’re not really upset about that are you? Besides, he didn’t take the Grimm.”

Five more days, five more days, five more days.

“The fact that you sound disappointed about that is almost as aggravating as you trying to bribe him in the first place,” I mutter. “Don’t you have anything better to do than trying to destroy your son’s relationship?”

Arawn looks up at the ceiling, pretending to think, then gives me an impish smirk. “Not really.”

I roll my eyes and shoulder past him to remove the ward and enter our bedroom. I reach out to turn the doorknob and he grabs my wrist, catching it in an iron grip. I suck in a deep breath and grit my teeth as the small bones of my wrist are crushed beneath his fingers.

“You should remember who your king is little demon,” he whispers menacingly into my ear.

“Diavolo is my king,” I hiss, glaring at him.

He yanks me closer to him, studying me carefully. “I would think long and hard about how you speak to me young one. Especially since you don’t have just yourself to think about anymore.”

My eyes widen in shock. “How -”

“I’m not as oblivious as my son or that dimwitted fallen angel you both insist on bedding. I wonder what it says about your relationship that neither of them have figured it out yet. After all, it only took me a few moments.”

Arawn releases me, giving casual shrug. “It was nice talking to you little demon, but I think I should rejoin the group in the study. Tell Mammon I was looking for him, will you?”

He tosses me a backwards wave as he walks away. I take a shaky breath before slipping into our bedroom.

Five more days.

The bedroom feels too big without Mammon and Diavolo in it, and I scowl at the huge bed in frustration. I send a small fireball floating through the air to light the fireplace and wander aimlessly around the room. I run my fingers over the spines of the books sitting on the bookshelf before selecting one and tossing it into an armchair.

I walk to the bathroom, shedding my clothes and leaving them haphazardly on the floor as I go. I stand under the warm stream of water, moodily contemplating my upcoming nuptials and twisting my engagement ring on my finger.

Even if I decide not to go through with the wedding they’ll find out eventually. And once they do I highly doubt they’ll ever willingly let me leave the Devildom.

I shake myself and try to push worst case scenarios out of my mind.

Dia and Mammon would never force me to do anything I don’t want to, no matter what the circumstances are. I know them better than that. Right?

I turn off the water and towel off, feeling worse than I did before I showered. I grab Diavolo’s robe and slip it on, the silk cool and smooth against my skin. The hem of the robe hangs almost to my ankles and it smells like Diavolo. Tears prick my eyes as longing washes over me. For the first time since I’ve come to the Devildom I feel utterly alone.

I snag one off Mammon’s pillows from the bed and sink into an armchair, cuddling it close to my stomach. I pick up my book and crack the cover, trying to lose myself in fantasy world of The Seven Lords.

Some time later I’m awakened by someone shaking my shoulder and a voice saying, “Oi! Ya better not be drooling on my pillow!”

I grunt and cling tighter to the pillow, refusing to open my eyes.

“Fine. Be that way ya grouch.”

Strong arms lift me from the armchair and carry me across the room to lay me gently onto the bed. Mammon settles in bedside me and pulls the covers up around us before wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I grumble and try to burrow deeper into the mattress.

He presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “Come on baby, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Diavolo promised he would spend tonight with us and then Arawn showed up and sucked him into another meeting,” I mumble into the pillow. “Dia didn’t even try to tell him no.”

Mammon hugs me. “I miss him too baby.”

I roll over to face him. “Mammon......do you think we’re making a mistake?”

He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I hesitate for a moment, scared of how he’ll react. “Marrying Dia. Are we making a mistake?”

“Seriously?” Mammon scowls and releases me from his hold.

I roll back over and curl in on myself in an attempt to avoid his scathing gaze.

Mammon heaves a deep sigh and gently turns me back to face him. “I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’tve snapped at ya. Talk to me. What’s got ya thinkin’ like this?”

“He’s already so busy.....and it’s only going to get worse once he’s king. The court is virtually useless and they’re going to depend on Dia to handle everything. Do you think he’ll make time for us? Or will it always just be us two with him making the occasional appearance?”

I sigh and close my eyes.

“You’ve heard the rumors floating around the Devildom. To them we’re just his thief and his whore. Barely anyone supports this marriage.”

“You’ve always known he was gonna be king someday.” Mammon looks at me sadly, blue eyes filled with something that looks very much like disappointment. “Do you still love him? Still love us?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then trust Diavolo. Trust me. We both love ya more than anything and I know he’ll do everything he can to be a good husband to us. And even when he’s busy we’ll always have each other.”

“I do trust you. I trust both of you. I’ve just been thinking.....”

“About what?” Mammon cuddles me close to his chest.

“Just about how different life is here in the Devildom. I never imagined my life would be like this,” I admit.

“What did ya imagine?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just, I had my own life before this you know? Separate from you guys. Before he brought me down here. I had my friends and I was gonna start a new job and I had -” I cut myself off, biting down hard on my lip before I say too much.

Mammon looks at me strangely and his blue eyes flicker away from me momentarily before resting on me once again. “I’ve never asked ya this before but..........you had someone up there didn’t ya?”

I nod slowly, not trusting my voice.

“Tell me about ‘em baby.” Even though his voice is soft this is a command, not a question.

“Their name was Ryan. We’d only been together for a few months. They were ten years older than me and ready to commit, ready for something serious. We talked about moving in together after my lease on my apartment was up.”

I brush some hair out of my face and smile a little as I remember. “They were sarcastic, gorgeous, driven....................one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Everything was just so easy with them.”

“Did ya love ‘em?” Mammon asks, his voice rough and hoarse.

“It was going in that direction, yeah.”

His eyes narrow. “Then why didn’t ya go back to them after your year was up?”

“Are you serious Mammon? A year is a long damn time for a human. My job wasn’t just going to welcome me back with open arms. Ryan and I weren’t going to just pick up where we left off; not after a year of me being missing and not having any contact with anyone.” I glare at him, angry and defiant.

He shrinks back from me a little.

“And I fell in love with you. Both of you.”

“So what’s the problem?”

You dense motherfucker.

I just shake my head and roll my eyes. “Really? Are you being serious right now?”

Mammon glares at me. “What? Would ya go back right now if could? Choose them over us?”

I start at him for one long moment before shaking my head. “No. I wouldn’t.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The point is I should have had a choice Mammon. When he brought me down here Diavolo took away a year of my life; he took away my opportunities and my relationship. Everything I’d worked so hard for in the human realm didn’t matter anymore. I had to start all over; without my friends, without my partner.......he brought me here with nothing. And when the year was over I couldn’t get any of it back.”

I rapidly blink away tears of frustration.

“I love you both so, so much. But I gave up everything to stay here; I gave up my humanity to stay with you both. And yeah, maybe I’m angry about that. Maybe I’m starting to resent Dia for bringing me here. I’ve given him everything Mammon. Everything. And he can’t even keep a simple promise to spend one night with us? After us being apart for how many weeks?”

The words are tumbling out now, faster and faster, and I can't stop them. Mammon is staring at me, shock and outrage warring across his face.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that Mammon! What have you ever had to give up to be with us? You were more than happy to move into the Demon Lord’s castle. More than happy to accept all the perks of being with Dia.”

I probably could have stabbed him and hurt him less but I can’t stop, letting out every fear and frustration I’ve felt for the past year and a half.

“Is it always going to be like this? Am I always going to be the one giving things up? Settling for scraps of his time? Aren’t you mad about him never being around? Or the way he never stands up to Arawn? How long is this going to go on? What happens when the-” I clap my hands over my mouth before I finish the sentence.

“When the what princess?”

I close my eyes tight and grit my teeth in an attempt to block out Diavolo’s question and the anguished tone of his voice.

“Arianthi........ do you really feel like I took everything from you?”

I refuse to turn around, locking my eyes on some distant point over Mammon’s shoulder.

“Diavolo she didn’t mean it.” Mammon’s eyes dart worriedly between me and Diavolo, and he’s starting to look panicked.

“I meant it. I meant all of it.” I climb out of bed, facing Diavolo. My stomach clenches at the sight of his ashen face, but I tamp the guilt down and anger quickly takes its place.

“Have you always felt like this?” Diavolo asks softly.

“Maybe, in the back of my mind. It was always easy to ignore because I was so damn happy with both of you. But now all I can think about is our future and what it’s going to look like and.......” I trail off, running my hands through my hair. “I can’t do this right now Diavolo.”

I start to move past him so I can leave the bedroom, and he reaches out and attempts to touch my shoulder.

“Princess, please.....we can talk-”

“No!” I unfurl my wings to block his hand and dart out into the hallway, leaving my fiances starting after me in shock.

I walk the castle halls without a particular destination in mind, finally arriving at the throne room. I gaze around the room, taking in the ornate decor. The room feels oppressive, and it’s hard to imagine that Mammon and I will ever have a place here.

I wander the perimeter of the room, toppling standing candelabras and knocking portraits from the walls with languid flicks of my tail. When reach Arawn’s portrait I hurl it across the room, impaling it on one of the last standing candelabras. Feeling slightly more empowered after finishing my path of destruction, I ascend the steps of the dais that stands at the front of the room. I circle the throne, my fingertips dancing over the intricate carvings and gold inlays.

I eventually sprawl out in the throne and look out over the cavernous room, trying to imagine it full of people looking up at me while I gaze at them from this place of superiority.

That sounds completely miserable. No wonder Diavolo was so desperate to be treated like a normal person. For someone to just see him and not his title.

I sigh and scrub my hands over my face in equal parts frustration and sadness. I summon a tiny fireball and lazily roll it over my knuckles a few times before tossing it at the wall where it quickly fizzles out, leaving a sooty scorch mark behind.

Hmm. Satisfying.

I spend the next several minutes tossing fireballs, peppering the wall and curtains with scorch marks, making random patterns.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I roll my eyes at the sound of Mammon’s voice and summon another flame. “If you’re here to get me to go apologize to Dia I’m not interested right now.”

“You should,” Mammon says softly. “He’s really upset.”

I snort, sending a small orb of grimfire to orbit around Mammon’s head. “And I’m not?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down. “What’s done is done. We’re about to get married.......what’s the point of worrying about it now?.”

I straighten up on the throne, staring at him intently, and for one brief moment the grimfire pulses with a dangerous green light. Mammon’s eyes meet mine and I sigh; the orb fizzles out with a puff of acrid smoke.

“You always take his side,” I mumble. “Always.”

“Baby come on.” Mammon tries to cajole me out of the throne. “Let’s go to bed and forget about all this.”

I shake my head and close my eyes. “Just go Mammon.”

“Ari...”

“GO!”

My command echoes throughout the cavernous room, and I eventually hear Mammon’s footsteps recede at he leaves the throne room.

I shake my head in disgust.

I don’t belong here.

“Be careful my dear or you’ll shake something loose.”

I whip my head up and stare directly into a pair of bright green eyes, a mirror of my own. She looks different from the first time I saw her; her face is free of blue woad markings, and she’s wearing a plain black hoodie and a pair of jeans.

“Morrigan?!” I’m so shocked I can barely squeak out her name.

She gives me a cocky grin. “What kind of grandmother would I be if I didn’t show some support for my granddaughter’s marriage?”

“How are you here?”

“I’m ancient, not dead,” she replies dryly. “Just because I choose not to waste away down here doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally visit.”

“Morrigan why are you here? For real.”

Morrigan sighs and pauses a moment before finally answering my question. “I’m here to make sure you’re not making a mistake.”

“You think I’m making a mistake marrying them?” I bite my lip anxiously, afraid to hear her answer.

“It’s doesn’t matter what I think, it only matters if you think you are. And since I’m the only relative you have left I feel an odd sort of responsibility for you.” She shrugs one shoulder languidly. “So, do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“Maybe?”

Morrigan doesn’t say anything, just nods encouragingly.

“I had to leave a lot of things behind when Diavolo brought me here. And I had to give up even more to stay with them,” I say, trying to sort my thoughts.

“Do you love Mammon and Diavolo?” Morrigan asks softly.

“More than anything,” I answer.

“But you still feel resentful. Because you feel like Diavolo took choices away from you.”

I nod. “Yeah. That exactly.”

“I think it’s understandable that you feel this way,” Morrigan says slowly. “Diavolo yanked you out of your life without warning, and even though you’ve made a new life here, it’s natural to mourn your old one.”

I slump back into the throne. “So what do I do?”

Morrigan moves to stand next to me. “I can’t tell you that.”

She pauses, looking deep in thought for a moment before speaking again.

“I was on a trip to the human world when I met Ayden..........your grandfather. He was a force of nature, unlike anyone I’d ever met in the three realms. Stubborn. Fierce. A born warrior. At certain times you remind me of him so much.” She smiles at me sadly.

“I couldn’t come back here knowing that I would have to leave him behind. I tried once, but I only lasted a week. So I went back and stayed in the human realm. Ayden and I were married and eventually we had a son, Kane.”

She stops speaking, and I see her hands shake almost imperceptibly.

“I watched my family grow old while I didn’t age. I buried my husband, my son, my grandchildren.......... and it became too much, so I just faded away. I couldn’t stay with them, but I couldn’t return to the Devildom either. So I’ve just been wandering for a centuries, alone.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I finally whisper.

Morrigan is silent for so long I think she’s not going to answer me.

“Because even with all of the loss and the pain and the anger, I wouldn’t trade the time I had with my husband and my son for anything in the three realms.”

She turns to face me, staring directly into my eyes.

“And if I was given the gift of being able to have them with me forever.....” She swallows hard and blinks rapidly. “I know that you’re angry Arianthi, and you have good reason to be, but if you love those two even half as much as you say you do, don’t let that anger fester and rot your relationship. Don’t squander the gift Lilith and I gave you when we sent you back here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“That’s my girl.”

I push myself up from my seat and shift back into my human form before gripping Morrigan in a tight hug.

“Oh!” She stiffens in surprise before clinging to me just as tightly.

“Thanks grandma,” I say with a smirk when she finally releases me.

She rolls her eyes good naturedly and gently cuffs the back of my head. “Like I said, you remind me so much of Ayden. Now go, to bed with you. You need your rest, especially now.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me and gives me a knowing look.

“Seriously?” I ask, exasperated. “Can a bitch have no secrets here?”

Morrigan grins. “Not from the old ones my dear; very little gets by us. Besides, it’s time to tell them isn’t it?”

I grumble a few choice words under my breath.

She reaches for my hand and squeezes softly. “I need to go before Arawn figures out I’m here. Go. Talk to them. Trust in yourself that you’ve made the right decisions.”

“Am I going to get to see you again? Outside of my existential crises and near death moments?”

“I’ll find you when you need me most,” Morrigan assures me, before she opens the doors to the throne room and slips into the hallway.

I wait a few minutes before leaving the throne room, shutting the doors firmly behind me and making a mental note to speak to Barbatos about the mess.

I’ll take care of it.

I climb the stairs to our bedroom and give a soft knock before hesitantly entering. Mammon and Diavolo are in bed; Diavolo’s head cradled on Mammon’s chest while he softly strokes Diavolo’s hair. They both eye me warily as they sit up.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unwilling to meet their eyes. “I should have brought this up along time ago instead of blowing up at both of you like that.”

Diavolo gives me a soft look of concern. “I need to apologize as well princess. I didn’t consider the long term effects that the exchange program would have on a non-magical human. I was so enthusiastic about the program that I didn’t take into account that it would negatively impact your life in a very major way.”

He swallows hard and looks down, restlessly twisting the bed sheet between his large hands. “If you wish it I can speak to Barbatos and have him find the proper timeline so that he can....send you back. To before you came here. You could have your old life back.”

“What?” Mammon glares at him then worriedly looks at me, waiting for my answer.

“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “No, I don’t want to go back.”

Both demons sag against the pillows in relief.

I start anxiously twisting my engagement ring around my finger. “There’s something I need to show you both. It’s why started thinking about my old life and our future in the first place.”

“Ok baby,” Mammon says reassuringly. “Show us whatever you need to.”

Diavolo nods in agreement.

I dart into the closet and find the pictures I’d hidden in a giant pile of Mammon’s sweaters three weeks earlier. I walk back to Diavolo and Mammon, pressing a picture into each of their hands. I sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for their reactions.

Diavolo furrows his brow and delicately traces the sharp lines that rise and fall the length of his photo with one calloused fingertip. Mammon’s face mirrors Diavolo’s confused expression as he studies the glossy black and white picture in front of him. The carefully study each other’s photos before glancing back at their own. Mammon is the first one to put the pieces together.

“Baby are you....?” He looks at me with wide eyes.

Diavolo’s realization comes a few moments later. “Are we really...?”

I nod, a hesitant smile on my lips.

Diavolo cups Mammon’s face in his hands and gives him a sweet kiss before resting his forehead against Mammon’s. “We’re going to be dads,” he whispers reverently.

Diavolo leaps out of bed and sweeps me into a hug, spinning me in a circle and laughing. “You’re going to be a mom! We’re going to be parents!”

He gathers me in his arms and carries me to bed, gently settling me between Mammon and himself, immediately placing one hand on my stomach. Mammon gives me a soft kiss and rests his head on my shoulder, while Diavolo is practically vibrating with excitement next to me.

“We need to make an official announcement. The entire Devildom needs to know that there is a new heir on the way! We’ll need Barbatos to plan a celebration ball and there will need to be new royal portraits to add you three-”

As Diavolo speaks I find myself becoming more and more overwhelmed, his overbearing energy sweeping over me and causing a ball of anxiety to grow deep in the pit of my stomach. Mammon looks over at me and takes note of my panicked expression. He reaches over and grabs one of Diavolo’s hands.

“Oi! Ya need to calm down, you’re freaking out Arianthi!”

Diavolo instantly wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “I’m sorry princess. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

“You could calm down for one,” Mammon says, impatiently raking a hand through his hair.

I nod in agreement. “I know that there are certain things that need to happen, but this is a lot to take in right now. And I’d really like to wait to make the announcement until a few weeks after the wedding.”

“Why? Everyone should know now; this is amazing news!” Diavolo frowns at me in disappointment.

“This is about more than just you,” Mammon grumbles, giving Diavolo a dirty look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dia, this is going to be a really big change for all of us. I’d rather not draw more attention than we absolutely have to. There’s already going to be enough speculation about the baby because of our relationship.” I look into his eyes, pleading with him to understand.

Diavolo shakes his head. “I don’t understand. What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with our relationship?”

Mammon sighs in exasperation. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it. She just means that people are gonna be payin’ a lot of attention and gossipin’ about the baby, because there’s a damn good chance it could come out lookin’ like me.”

“We’ve already talked about this.” Diavolo’s face darkens and he scowls at Mammon. “This baby is ours, all of us together, no matter who the biological father is.”

“You really think everybody else out there is gonna see it that way?”

I shrink back into the pillows in an effort to stay out of the way of the two bickering demons.

I finally hesitantly speak up. “Does it matter to you guys? Would you want to know who-”

“No!” They exclaim in unison.

“Diavolo’s right,” Mammon reassures me. “It doesn’t matter. This baby is gonna be all the best parts of all of us no matter what.”

Diavolo hums in agreement. “I don’t care what the rest of the Devildom has to say about it. This is my child. You’ll be my wife and Mammon will be my husband. We’re a family, and I love all three of you unconditionally.”

He delicately strokes his fingertips over my stomach. “Hello little one. I’m your daddy.”

Mammon hesitantly reaches out and places his hand next to Diavolo’s.

“I’m not hurtin’ ya, am I?” He looks at me anxiously.

“Not at all,” I answer with a smile.

“That’s your papa,” Diavolo whispers conspiratorially to my stomach. “He’ll never admit it, but he worries a lot about me and your mommy. He’s already worrying about you too. It just means he loves you. You’ll get used to it.”

“You’ll get used to your daddy talkin’ too much and being bossy too,” Mammon grumbles with a slight smirk.

My eyes start to flutter closed, and I sink back into the pillows while Diavolo and Mammon continue to murmur endearments to their unborn child.

Morrigan was right. This moment, these three.......... they are worth everything.

28 notes · View notes

not-bumbles-guthrie · 3 years

Text

When The Beasts Run Wild

A weird choice for a first tumblr post but alas! I must undermine expectation! If you’re unlucky enough to be interested in reading this, here’s a little description:

In a deserted environment, brutalized by nuclear fallout, we find Cherry. She’s a quiet, nihilistic young woman plagued by the knowledge that she has lived her entire life in the remains of a society that no longer exists. The story follows her as her fellow survivors celebrate the Summer Solstice. Unfortunately, more seems to be at hand as it dawns upon Cherry and her lover that the world might be ending soon.

When it came to the explosion, no one imagined it would lead to the downfall of humanity. It would lead us to a return to order, an acoustic version of the world the humans had created. They would no longer be a part of it. It was a strange concept to grow used to as the days passed, and people were eaten at by the radiation. Of course, there were people that ran to the nuclear hostels, the ones hidden deep in the underbelly of Mother Earth. Yet, they talk of those places being overrun. One person says they were there when the President was found, slumped over. She’d also been killed by the radiation from the second blast. The person who told me this would die too in the coming weeks. Her face was bloodied when she took her last breath, shaky and demure. Then, with a flourish, she sucked in one last time, as hard as she could, and breathed out, “Fin!” While she didn’t have the strength for that exclamation point, I like to imagine her enthusiasm behind it is deserving of the emphasis.

Dogs run free now. If I had to take a guess on who ruled the expanse of land Mother left us, it would be them. She seems to have made them impervious to the air, to the invisible killer. Then again, we believe that she made us impervious to the same air. Perhaps we are just lucky, though. The dogs are destined. Eventually, we will die out. I don’t think the same can be said about the puppies, with their floppy ears and jovial smiles that cut through the particles.

I toss a piece of my flatbread to the yappy pup at my ankle. Her name is Annika, after Queenie’s grandmother who survived the first blast only to die because of the second one. She isn’t my dog; unlike most of the people here, I don’t choose dogs. They find me, visit me, and then they drift away either to their human companions or back to the dust and decay. Mother Earth would’ve blessed me with one if She wanted me to tend to a dog. They are Her chosen successors, after all. I’m merely here to die and be eaten by one of them when the time comes for my body to return to Mother through a dog’s shit that will hopefully make this land fertile once more.

Or maybe it won’t. Who fucking cares? It’s not like there’s a 9 a.m. office job to attend or a peewee football game to cheer on my snot-nosed kids at. There’s the dogs, the open sores, the radiation, and Mother Earth. That’s all. Those are the last things a human will ever know.

I used to ponder what the limits of humanity would be. I thought I would see the end of it, and that ending would be magical. We would finally know what the finality of the human brain was, what its capacity was. However, it’s become quickly apparent that in my eighteen years, nothing will ever show me that capacity. This is the capacity. The height of human invention and creativity? Its own destruction. How poetic. And to think, I was a baby and I missed it all.

It’s weird, living in a sarcophagus of time. I know everything about a culture that is dead. A species that is dead. Soon, I will be dead too. I’ve been told, by a doctor who lives in the camp, that most of us will only make it another 15 years. Maybe I’ll make it longer, he said, because I miraculously survived the first two blasts before the age of five. If I didn’t die then, perhaps I’m meant to last long enough to outlive the cancers and the ARS. Personally, I don’t think he was a very smart doctor. Even I know that’s not how radiation works. Put simply, I will be dead. It’s only a matter of when Mother Earth decides to reclaim me.

Father sits in The Temple when I return with Annika. The growth of what few flowers and vegetables can be produced in this climate surround him, billowing at his feet. His toenails were kissed by the vines of the potatoes, which had grown gnarly like his bunions. Father was a sight for sore eyes, with the fallout aging him past his years. He deserved to have a big, great white beard, but alas. All he had to show for his near two decades of turmoil was a small patch of growth on his face. He no longer had a full head of hair, and the sores on his skull near his neck opened daily with each movement. That’s what filled my vision as I walked towards him, as his head was bowed in prayer.

“Father,” came out soft and trembling. I cleared my throat. No need for that.

“Any news? Has Her Graciousness spoken to you?”

He spoke about Mother with a reverence that no one in the group possessed. He worshipped her. My mouth became dry, and its taste made me nauseated. There was nothing to report. Mother Earth had never spoken to me. She never spoke to him, why would that change with me?

“Yes, Father. She has.”

His eyes widened, pupils dilating as he took in more light. Blue rhinestones. “What did She tell you?”

I glared at Annita, nudging my head to snap back and tell her to kindly fuck off. The stupid animal simply sat there and stared at me. I rolled my eyes. “Stupid girl,” I muttered before looking Father in his eyes. “Mother Earth tells me that we will be safe for the coming Solstice.”

We had no idea if the Summer Solstice was close or not, actually. We assumed, based on the markings Monsignor Karl had kept for the past nineteen years since the first blast knocked out the power grid in the eastern hemisphere. He was the original Keeper, passing on the reins to Ingrid after he passed. It was hard to watch him go, as the cancer overtook him. For the last weeks, he did nothing but bleed from his mouth. Thanks to him, we are able to honor Mother. Kind of.

“That’s a good girl. Thank you, Cherry.”

I nodded in response, bowing at Father, before walking away. Annita followed me, yipping as we made our way to Camp. Ingrid acknowledged me with a demure nod as I passed her. She wore an ornate necklace, one that was found through scavenging when the Monsignor was still alive, that held a long-stopped pocket watch as its pendant. It was the Monsignor. It ran for the first few weeks following the Chernobyl incident, before the battery finally died. It was what helped him keep the time in the first days. Now, Ingrid wore it to simply mark herself as a special one. She could study sun patterns and tell you the approximate time of day, which made her invaluable, especially when it came down to times like the Solstices. These days, though, she seemed to be slipping up more and more. It made sense, given she was always awake when I woke up for my nightly leak. She had to be tired after being up half the night.

“Hey,” I called out before plopping myself down in front of her sundial.

“Hey yourself. Your shadow is fucking up my clock.”

That was all I needed before I was brushing myself off and moving away from Gritty. It was no matter; she was routinely not in the mood to fuck around. “Talk to you later, precious. Perhaps I’ll visit you on your nightly ‘stare at the sky’ session?”

“Fuck you,” came from behind me as I walked away. “Go concoct more lies.”

The last part came out quietly, as a small tease. My body froze up at first, with my back to her, but I could hear her chuckling in the annoying way she would. I flipped her off before turning into the tent that held our food. Dinner, it appeared, was served.

The small feast consisted of grains, including sunflower seeds, and bits of wild strawberry. For the group of ten people, it would barely make us feel full, but it was enough to satisfy the Itch. When your stomach lining is eaten away for so long, even a smidge of food does away with the Itch for a few. It would at least let us sleep until the Sun came up, flooding us with the blessings of Mother. Ingrid sat across from me, kicking at my shins when she caught me staring at her plate, which was empty but for a bit of juice stain from the strawberries.

“Perv,” she said with as much menace as love. Her smirk told me everything.

I rolled my eyes, playing with my ponytail, wrapping it around the ends of my finger. Perv. It rang over and over in my mind. So what? Was how I wanted to respond. I didn’t, though. My throat stopped me. My heart stopped me.

“Thank you for this blessed bounty, Mother Earth,” Father’s voice rang out.

“Thank you, Mother,” we whispered in a low baritone. Our heads were bowed over our empty plates.

“We worship you for saving us, Lover. Thank you for blessing us with eternal servitude to you. We will cleanse your Home, Wife,” Father continued with our heads dipping further towards our empty plates. There was a small clang as my glasses hit the edge of the ceramic. Gritty kicked at me again. I almost giggled.

This was my moment. I knew this. I had practiced this countless times. I raised my head to see the crown of Ingrid’s head, and I stopped for a minute. Her dark hair caught the last rays of the sun, and I was blinded. My voice cracked as I started us all in, singing, “Danke- Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen.”

“Thank you for all the joy you bring,” everyone started in on the second line, holding their hands out to each other.

Miss Fieri grabbed my hand. Her painted red nails scratched at my palm, and the old hole in the corner of her lip caught my eye as I faced her. Her face sagged, and her eyeliner was smudged. It was a miracle she had any. To my right, Monsignor Karl’s son, Vlad, sat though I had to reach out to wrap my palm around his amputated wrist. He smiled as he sang the lines, “Save those lies, darling, don’t explain.” It was strange to think about the fact that Mother blessed him with the stupid mustache the twinkled with as we sat there, singing. Yet, he was too stupid to become the next Keeper. That’s why we have Gritty.

Across from me, Gritty winked at me. She nodded at my hand on Vlad’s stump, and I knew what she was doing. Who’s the perv now? I thought. I relinquished my smile, giving her a disappointed nod. “Get your head out of the gutter,” I mouthed while Queenie fucked up the “Auf wiedersehen” despite the fact that her mother is from Germany. Dumbass. Gritty caught my look towards Queenie, smiling. She flipped her hair, impersonating the prima donna. I held in my laughter, smiling at her. I shook my head again, but this time in appreciation.

Then, I saw Father’s gaze. His eyes narrowed, brows furrowed so that the long spindly hairs were more apparent. His scar across his face was terrifying enough without the expression. I avoided looking him in the eye for a reason. My mouth formed a thin line in response. I bowed my head, and we finished the hymnal for Mother. We let go of each other’s hands to our lips, kissing our hands, and shooting the kisses towards the ground. Oppa and Kyle gave small whoops and hollers as the old woman and the young man hugged each other. I watched them closely, noting the miracle of their friendship.

“Thinking about the time you fucked him?”

“Fuck you, Gritty. It was four years ago.”

“We all know how formative that was for you.”

“You fucked him too. Shut up.”

“You know we’re supposed to fuck him again.”

“Yeah,” I whispered as we walked further from the tent. Oppa and Kyle went their separate ways, with the kind old woman heading to her tent, wrapped in her shawl she swears Stevie gave her. Kyle appeared to be more preoccupied with the new girl we picked up. Her name was Cola. Like the soda. She was his new toy. She was only fifteen, but she told Father she hadn’t lost her virginity yet. We were supposed to give her unto Mother soon because of that. I don’t know why she bothered to stay. I suppose the food alone is worth it, maybe the dogs. She’s only been here a week and she already found a little dachshund to be her companion. She’s taken to calling him Nilla. Gritty and I passed them, and I gave Nilla a little pat on the head as he came up to my ankles and pushed his nose against me.

“Do you think they’ll force us to do it when we hold the Ceremony for her?” I asked once we were out of earshot.

“Probably. Father is known for liking convenience,” She responded quietly. Her tone was melancholic.

We found our way out of the light of the camp fires. I scooped her hand into mine. “That’s true. It’s been too long since the last time.”

“I don’t know why we’re supposed to wait until the Solstice.”

“It’s because it’s spring. Fertility and all that shit.”

“Isn’t sex supposed to be sacred? What does the time period have to do with that?”

“I don’t know, man. Stop asking such stupid questions.” I let go of her hand, picking up a stick instead.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Just because you don’t want Mother’s babies doesn’t mean you gotta be a dick because I’m asking questions.”

“It’s not that, and you know it, Grit.”

“Then what is it, Cher?”

I rolled my eyes, facing away from her. “It’s easier to just do this shit than think about why it makes no sense.” It was as close of an answer I could give.

“Yeah, but doesn’t it kill you that Mother Earth says it’s just a sacred act but instead we treat it like this fucking parade that happens once a year. Sometimes twice, if Kyle doesn’t get his jizz in us.” Her head was cocked to the side as she studied me. We stopped at the edge of the woods like we always did. We knew no one could see us all the way out here. They just assumed we were playing in the woods, as we had since kids. Not questioning the basis of our existence. I threw the stick into the woods, hearing a small yelp from some animal. Probably a cat, from the sound. “I just…” I plopped on the ground next to a rock, resting my elbow against it. “It’s easier to not think about it instead of what we can’t do.”

“What is it that you want to do?”

“You know what I want to do,” I fire back.

Her mouth snapped shut. She came and sat down next to me. “You’re the only one stopping that from happening.”

“Existentialism doesn’t work when you live in a nuclear wasteland,” I responded as she put her head on my shoulder. “You’re looking for trouble,” I whisper as her hair tickles my ear.

“Maybe I am.” She shifted so her bicep rubbed mine. “Though, I suppose, you’re looking for it too.”

I stared out ahead of me, looking at the stars that peaked up from the line of mountains. The sun was sinking fast, so only a small blue line spread across the sky, and it only served to continue to illuminate the stars. They were twinkling, like the look in Ingrid’s eye or the way the last rays bounced off her pendant. I wanted to sink into the folds of her essence, even if that was the exact trouble she was getting me into. Her cheekbones were highlighted in the rising moonlight, eyes curled up in a smile. I flicked her black hair behind her shoulder, holding it close to my nose for a brief moment. Beauty incarnate.

“You’re right.” I sighed as I sat back to look her in the eye. “I don’t understand why things got so twisted around here, but they did. Perhaps Mother wants it that way. I can’t tell. She doesn’t speak to me. But you knew that, didn’t you?” I joked, tugging on the braid in her hair.

She smiled, poking my shoulder. “Yes. Perhaps She doesn’t exist at all, have you thought of that?”

My eyes widened, and I almost looked behind me to make sure no one heard her. “That’s not true, and you know it. Why else are we here?”

“Pure chance. Luck. Destiny.” She moved closer to me; her breath fanned over my face. “Have you considered why we’re here?”

I sat back, sitting upright. “No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Mother exists. Nietzche was right, but Mother isn’t God.”

“I think Father killed her, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“The words have been twisted. The principles have been twisted. Shit, we worship the Earth because of some age old religion that ruled the before times. Wake up, Cherry.”

We weren’t close to each other anymore. We both sat upright, rod straight. Her dark, arched brows captured my attention and I stared at them as she stared at the plains of my face. “It’s not like you and I can do anything to change that. Father rules over us, protects us. At least we have food. At least we’re living in the meantime.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be here for long.”

“I-” I stuttered, stopping. “Grit, what are you on?”

Her eyes were serious. Their brown expanse was narrowed for the first time in a long time. They were hard, determined to be taken for reality. She looked practically possessed. Her dark eyes were almost black. She didn’t speak for a moment. “Ingrid, please, tell me.”

The lost, yet determined, look in her eyes faded and she grabbed my chin, pointing my head towards the sky. “You see all those stars?” I made a noise to affirm yes. “Do you see that green one? Over to the left of the moon?” I made another noise. “That’s a new star. I don’t believe it to be a star, though.”

She let go of me, though her hand held my face still. “Oh,” is all I said. The world came together like a puzzle piece at that moment. That was why she was being so careless as of late. That’s why we were here now.

“You’re going to kiss me before the world ends, right?” I asked in a petite voice that almost broke. It was the only thing I thought of as it occurred to me that my prediction would be coming true sooner than I thought.

It was then that she tucked her hands into the base of my ponytail, anchoring herself to me as she pulled me forward to touch her lips to mine. They tasted of cherry chapstick, something she must have collected when she went out exploring to the local abandoned gas station a few days ago. My tongue instinctively reached out for a better taste, and she let me in. It was then that my hands were all over here, and she kissed me harder.

A week passed, and the Ceremony was upon us. Cola was going to be the star of the show. She was dressed in a red bridesmaid dress we found on one of the group explorations we went on. It fit her perfectly, and coupled with the dandelions in her curly red hair, she was fit to be the Solstice Queen. Kyle was also dressed in his suit that he’d worn for the past two years. Ingrid sat in front of her sun dial, dressed in her normal pair of jeans and a t shirt with holes. She couldn’t be convinced to dress up. I, however, was in a new dress Father had given me. It was a wedding dress like Princess Di’s. It was found in a thrift store, and he had held onto it for this Solstice celebration. It was poofy, and I was forced to wear the headpiece with it. I looked like a sullen bride, with my stained face and ratty hair. Queenie dyed my lips red with leftover strawberry juice. Gritty told me I looked like a pig to slaughter. She was probably right.

“Cherry,” Father called out in his quiet tone. “Come ‘ere.”

I shuffled towards him, passing Kyle and Cola, who stood whispering and touching each other. “Yes, Father?”

The sun was high in the sky, forcing Father to cover his eyes. “Will you get Ingrid in her dress? I know you two are close.” When he saw the light leave my eyes, he continued, “We have to prepare for our Solstice Queen’s first Outing.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I’m sure you can persuade her,” he said with a smirk.

My heart levitated, escaping my ribcage. I looked across the field, over Father’s shoulder, and made eye contact with Gritty. She was looking straight at me with a similar expression to the other night when she revealed to me the nature of the future.

“Yes, Father.”

I passed by Ingrid, nudging her shoulder with mine as I grabbed onto her and forced her to follow me. “Get your fucking dress on,” I mumbled as I led her to her tent.

“He knows, doesn’t he?”

“Probably. He’s acting funny.”

“How would he know?”

“You don’t exactly hide it.”

“Neither do you. You drool in my presence.”

I glared at her. “Bitch.”

“It’s just the truth.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get dressed. It’s almost twelve. We have to get this show on the road.”

“Wow jeez can’t wait.” Her voice was saccharine.

I didn’t respond. I just waited for her to get into her flowy gown. It was peach colored, and it made her look washed out. Her hair stood out, at least. I played with the ends of it after I helped zip her into the dress. “You look great,” I said in an aimless attempt at flirting.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

It was a miracle she was here. Ingrid had the magical way of being everything all at once. She made me want to relive the artifacts of the past, to dive into that sarcophagus. It hurt knowing that the world was taking that away. It had taken away so much. Mother had taken away so much. I suppose someone has to pay for the sins of the humans past, but I didn’t imagine it would be me. The visceral part of me, in my heart, felt the pain of this realization. I was the penance for disrespecting Mother. This was my service. This was why we did the Solstice Outings. This was why Kyle, Father, and Vlad and the rest of them could fuck whoever whenever. It was why they called it fucking for them instead of an Outing for us. It felt wrong to call what me and Gritty did fucking. It wasn’t that. It was something sweeter, less one-sided. Then again, what we did is the sin that brought us to this aftermath in the first place.

“Is this the price we pay?” I asked as I braided her hair. “Forever damned to a lack of pleasure and to death?”

“I suppose.” She sighed, looking disjointed though connected to what I was saying. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We choose it to be.”

“There you go with existentialism again.”

“It’s not philosophy, my dear. It’s how things are.”

“I didn’t ask to be left to this world. To be forced into this stupid shit.”

“No, you didn’t. But you worship the people, the men, who made it this way.”

“So do you.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

I let go of her last braid, letting it come undone. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“What does being free mean to you, Cherry?”

“What are you? A cheesy sitcom? Let’s go.”

I walked out of the tent without looking back. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

The Ceremony lacked the pomp and circumstance that many of past Ceremonies would have had. There weren’t many flowers we cultivated beyond weeds. We made a bed out of hay, grass, and these pesky flowers. Ingrid and I held onto Cola as we walked her into the circle of people, which consisted of our tribe. Father stood at the head of the pack, with Kyle standing next to him and Oppa on the other side. She was the eldest in our bunch, so she got to be on his right hand side while Kyle stood on the left. Everyone hummed the Hymnal, while sometimes people sang a few of the words.

Danke shoen, darling. Danke schoen...

I wore the veil in front of my face while Gritty and Cola bowed their heads. Cola was only fifteen, from the looks of her, and I felt a pang in my heart as I remembered that Kyle was two years older than me. He was twenty. The difference sat in the pit of my stomach, sickening me, as Cola smiled so sweetly at him. We were by the bed of flowers now. The humming had stopped. She was pure, still. She was worth worshipping. That would change once this was over. She’d be expected to work the fields, collect things. She’d become withered and worn like the rest of us. She was no stranger to hard work, I knew that. She had survived for this long on her own when her mother died a few months ago. Her innocence was simply so palatable in this moment. Though, perhaps that was the problem. I boiled her down to this ball of naivety when she probably had seen more shit in her lifetime than I had. She was nomadic, built with “street smarts” as they used to call it. She was human. That was why the disgust laid heavy on me.

Father put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. He smiled in his robes, which were really just shawls we found and blessed him with. He stood with a glint in his eye as he spoke. “Thank you, everyone. Mother Earth has blessed us with a new addition, and may we bless her unto the Earth and manifest Her bounty.”

We nodded, some people making a few grunts in affirmation. Gritty stood stoic, unwilling to do anything more than bow her head. I saw out of the corner of my eye a droplet fall from her face to the floor.

“Cola, darling, step away from your sisters and lay yourself upon our Mother.”

The human stepped forward, kneeling before Father, reaching up to touch the top of his toes from a praying position, before she moved to lay on her chest. From there, Kyle stepped forward, bowing to Father, and then he bent down to unzip Cola’s dress. The red peeled back to reveal white. It was like reverse bleeding. Instead of finding the depth of a person, we were finding the outer shell. Perhaps that was how one got through this.

From there, she was stripped. The dress fell from her chest, revealing her budding breasts, before Kyle pulled it down and off of her, revealing her naked body to the rest of us. He touched her breasts, cupping them roughly, before biting at them. She laid there still, waiting for it to be over. Or at least that’s what I presumed. She didn’t act enthused. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to be there, to pleasure him. Everyone started humming, though not the Hymnal. A different song.

I made it through the wilderness,

Somehow I made it through.

Thankfully, we didn’t sing the lyrics. We hummed. We hummed louder when she started to groan in pain. We hummed even louder when he covered her mouth. We hummed louder still when he finished. We stopped when she sat up. She covered herself again, walking to join us again. She had given herself unto the Earth.

“She gave herself unto him,” Gritty whispered.

I didn’t respond. The sun shined in my eyes, blinding me, as we walked away. Kyle wouldn’t be ready again for another five hours or so, leaving us to tend to Cola before it was my turn. Then, we would turn in for the night before it was Ingrid’s turn in the morning.

It was strange, having an appointment for something like this. It made it better, I suppose, than being shocked by it. Cola wiped at her eyes as we went to Ingrid’s tent. I offered her a shoulder, wrapping an arm around her as we all piled onto Gritty’s cot.

When the sun started to set, we were woken from our nap. Father stood at the opening of the tent. His hands rested on his hips, making dual triangles. His face read of disappointment.

“You silly girls,” he said with a jovial smile, the disappointment fading. “You know it’s inappropriate to sleep together.”

“Sorry, Father,” I started as Cola started to wake up next to me.

“Shut up,” his voice came out hard. He softened as he said, “Just don’t do it again, okay?” though he looked to Cola, not me.

“Sorry, Father,” she said quietly.

“Good girl,” he said back before walking away.

Funny how easy it is to become a pet if you let yourself. Though that was what Gritty was talking about. I chose not to judge Cola because of this.

We got up, picking at each other to make each other primed for another Outing. Gritty fixed my hair, sneaking a small kiss on the cheek before the tent door opened and Oppa came in.

“Let’s go, girls. There’s a shooting comet we see coming our way across the sky. We want to watch it when the sun goes down.”

Gritty and I looked towards each other, and she smiled. My Outing was on a schedule. My life was on a schedule. We knew what this meant. I looked Oppa in the eye. “I’m coming!” It came out happy, bright. It was filled with the last squeeze of life from my lemon.

I left the tent in a flourish. This was it. This was the end. I felt the joy buried beneath me come undone. The string has been cut! I am free. I walk quickly, with Cola and Gritty on either side of me.

“You’ve never looked so excited to be fucked like a stuffed pig,” She teased me quietly.

I looked over to her as we walked to the tune of the Hymnal. “It doesn't have to be like this, remember?” I smiled wide, aware that I looked a little unhinged.

“Yes, you’re right,” she whispered before I stepped away and kneeled down. I didn’t bother to touch the toes of Father before I laid down. In fact, I reached behind me and started to work my zipper down. Kyle murmured, “I got it,” but I didn’t listen to him. His hand stood close to mine as the zipper was worked down. The fabric billowed around me, squishy as I worked my way out of it.

“Cherry, this isn’t how the Outing goes,” he whispered quietly as Father stared down at us.

I didn’t respond. I finished my way out of the dress. I stood up, stepped out of it, and looked Gritty in the eyes. I was naked. Exposed. The stars were looking upon me, as was everyone else. I chose this. It was then that a hand pushed me down, hard, onto my knees. I saw Gritty freeze up, and Cola held onto her harder.

“Cherry,” Father’s voice came out cold. “This is not how the Outing is done.” He pushed me back onto the bed of growth. “Have your way, Kyle,” he said as I laid there, spread out like a plate of hors de o’deauvrs. The circle began to sing.

My fear is fading fast

Been saving it all for you

He bit me, ate my skin, before he fucked me. It was a blip in time. I looked towards the green star, the thing that was coming to destroy us. It was beautiful. I saw life in it. I saw the beauty in all things. I forgot that there was a boy fucking me, brutalizing me, making me his meal. His object. I didn’t care. I wasn’t his. I was this star’s. I was death impending. I was free.

When he was done, I didn’t wait. I plopped upright and walked away naked, forgetting the stupid costume. I wrapped an arm around Gritty’s waist before taking her hand and running off into the night. My bare feet pounded across the wasteland’s floor. The star was coming closer. It would be here soon. I knew this chapter was coming to a close. I was going to end it with her.

We made our way to the edge of the forest.

“Can I unzip you?” I asked Ingrid.

She nodded, smiling, as she turned around and pulled her elegant hair towards her front. It twinkled and wrinkled down her breasts. She was elegance, the form of death that I least expected. I pulled her close and kissed her, enveloping myself in her the way I needed to a week ago. I heard the sounds from the camp as the sun disappeared but the star came closer and illuminated the expanse of earth. I paid them no mind as I danced with Ingrid. Eventually, we became dizzy and fell.

Her hand laid on my bicep, and mine on hers. We stared up to the sky as we had a week ago when we kissed for the first time. The green of the meteor shooting towards us blinded me, but I kept my eyes open. I started to sing quietly as Ingrid’s fingers played at my skin, touching me. “Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen. Thank you for walks down Lover's Lane.”

My voice was awkward, and I didn’t sing in tune. Ingrid rolled into me all the same, shielding herself from the green glow. I wrapped her hair around my finger. This was death. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. She was who I wanted to die with.

“This is what free means to me,” I whispered as she continued to hum the song, taking it for her own.

I could see the details of the rock now. The edges were curved, like the indents of her body. My heart left its cage. It floated above me, blocking out the death rock. This was what was coming to claim me. It sung the song of my soul, repeating back to me the song I had just been singing. It was mine. This was my choice.

The green became more intense. She wrapped herself closer to me. My heart sung louder. This was it. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

#lgbtq #gay #lgbtq romance #romance #apocalypse #chernobyl #end of the world #short story #my writing #creative writing

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Cork in Verse | Ana Spehar interviews Theo Dorgan

Cork in Verse is a series of interviews by Ana Spehar with Cork Poets. This week Ana interviews Theo Dorgan.

Born in Cork, Theo Dorgan is a poet, and also a novelist, prose writer, translator, librettist, editor and documentary screenwriter. His most recent publications are Orpheus (Dedalus Press, 2018), Bailéid Giofógacha (translation into Irish of Lorca’s Romancero Gitano, Coiscéim 2019), and THE ABDUCTION, his translation from the French of Syrian poet Maram al-Masri’s Le Rapt, Southword editions, 2020). He is a member of Aosdána.

When did you start writing poetry?

The first poem I was given came to me on a winter’s night when I was, what, 19 or so? I’d arranged to meet a young woman at a céilí in Muiríoch,and on the long night walk there from Baile an Fheirtéaraigh I found myself writing her a poem. I’d had it in mind always that I would spend my life as a writer but had assumed it would be prose. That first visitation changed everything.

Could you tell us more about your creative process? How often do you write?

I try to write when the poem strikes. I believe, I know from a lifetime’s experience, that it’s truer to say that we don’t write the poem, the poem writes us. Of course, when that first flash has been captured, to the extent that it has been, there then comes the long working to secure it on the page. That’s where the craft comes in, the famous 10,000 hours.

I might go months without writing anything at all, and then there might come a rush, or just a stray poem. There’s no accounting for this, it can’t be pre-ordained. I am occasionally commissioned to write something, but if I accept, I always make it clear that I will withdraw from the commission unless a poem strikes. Too, I won’t accept a commission unless I have some sense that it chimes with something that’s been hovering somewhere in the back of my mind. That’s no guarantee, of course, that the preoccupation will crystallise in a poem, but it has happened.

Who is your favourite author/authors?

Impossible to answer, there are so many writers and poets with whom I have an ongoing affinity. That said, I come back time and again to Robert Graves, and to Cavafy, Gary Snyder, Heaney, Boland and — always new to me — Paula Meehan.

What are you reading at the moment?

Robert Kanigel’s Hearing Homer’s Song, his life of the scholar Milman Parry who revolutionised Homer studies, and Martin Gayford’s new book about David Hockney, Spring Cannot Be Cancelled. Of course, at the same time, day in and day out, I am dipping into all kinds of books constantly, revisiting old friends, chasing references or stray correspondences.

What advice would you give to someone just starting their creative journey in writing?

Read, read and read. It’s an inherited craft, you have to immerse yourself in the tradition. Search out writers with whom you feel an affinity and ask yourself why that is. Search out writers who repel you and ask yourself why they have that effect on you. Learn to be friends with and nurture your own sensibility but give it a hard time. When you come across a poem that moves you, that lights you up inside, stand back and ask yourself, how does she do that? A poem, or story, or novel or play will find you if it’s for you — you need to be prepared in the craft if you’re to get it down. On the other side of the business, never refuse anything that suggests itself to you, write it down; it will work out or it won’t, but never attempt to short-circuit the process. Stay out of your own road, and treat all advice, including this advice, with good-humoured scepticism. Be on good terms with your waste basket, real or virtual, but before you bin a poem, check that there isn’t a line or two that can be salvaged — that might be the living line from which something entirely unexpected may announce itself.

The Angel of History

by Theo Dorgan

In the Parliament house on Kildare Street the lamps were burning.

It was a winter night, the usual slant rain falling.

I had paused to light up a cigarette, to watch the lone Guard

stamp her feet, blow uselessly into her cupped, gloved hands.

In the colonnade of the National Library a man was standing,

a man neither old nor young, his head bare, half turned towards

the lights in the Parliament house, the high blank windows.

I saw him reach inside his long loose coat, take out a notebook.

I crossed the road, gathering my own long coat around me,

stood in behind him, looked over his shoulder. He paid no heed.

One after another I saw him strike them out from a long list of names:

Senators, Deputies, Ministers . One after another the names

dissolved on the page, a scant dozen remaining. I watched him

ink in a question mark after each of these, neat and precise.

He put the book away, sliding it down carefully into a deep pocket;

he turned and looked at me, nothing like pity in those hollow eyes.

He sighed, then squared his shoulders, lifted his face to the rain

and was gone. Gone as if he had never been. But I saw him,

I know who he was, I witnessed that cold, exact cancellation;

walked on, walked home, thoughtful, afraid for my country.

A Nocturne For Blackpool

by Theo Dorgan

Dolphins are coursing in the blue air outside the window

and the sparking stars are oxygen, bubbling to the moon.

At the end of a terrace, unicorns scuff asphalt,

one with her neck stretched on the cool roof of a car.

A key rasps in the latch, milk bottles click on a sill,

a truck heading for Mallow roars, changing gear on a hill.

The electric hum of the brewery whines, then drops in pitch –

ground bass for the nocturne of Blackpool.

The ghost of Inspector Swanzy creeps down Hardwick Street,

MacCurtain turns down the counterpane of a bed he’ll never sleep in,

unquiet murmurs scold from the blue-slate rooftops

the Death-Squad no-one had thought to guard against.

The young sunburned hurlers flex in their beds, dreaming of glory,

great deeds on the playing fields, half-days from school,

while their slightly older sisters dream of men and pain,

an equation to be puzzled out again and again.

Walloo Dullea, homeward bound on the Commons Road, belts out airs from Trovatore,

the recipe as before, nobody stirs from sleep

and ‘Puzzle the Judge’, contented, pokes at ashes –

“There’s many a lawyer here today could learn from this man”.

North Chapel, The Assumption, Farranferris and Blackpool,

the mass of the church in stone rears like rock from the sea

but the interlaced lanes flick with submarine life

older than priests can, or want to, understand.

This woman believed Jack Lynch stood next to God, who broke the

Republic.

This man beyond, his face turned to the wall, stares at his friend

whose face will not cease from burning in the icy sea – torpedoed off

Murmansk from a tanker. He shot him, now nightly he watches him sink.

(Cont. with stanza break)

Here is a woman the wrong side of forty, sightless in her kitchen

as she struggles to make sense of the redundancy notice,

of her boorish son, just home, four years on the dole, foul-mouthed,

of her husband, who has aged ten years in as many days.

The bells of Shandon jolt like electricity through lovers

in a cold-water flat beneath the attic of a house in Hatton’s Alley,

the ghost of Frank O’Connor smiles on Fever Hospital Steps

as Mon boys go by, arguing about first pints of stout and Che Guevara.

The unicorns of legend are the donkeys of childhood, nobody

knows that better than we know it ourselves, but we know also that

dolphins are coursing through the blue air outside our windows

and the sparking stars are oxygen, bubbling to the moon.

We are who we are and what we do. We study indifference in a hard

school

and in a hard time, but we keep the skill to make legend of the ordinary.

We keep an eye on the slow clock of history in Blackpool –

Jesus himself, as they say around here, was born in a stable.

for Mick Hannigan

#CorkInVerse #CorkCityLibraries #TheoDorgan #Poetry #IrishPoetry

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