#this was a lot longer and angstier than I planned but here it is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

librathefangirl · 10 months

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actually scratch the list i need to know EVERYTHING

Well, let me tell you about a few more then. Let's talk about these:

The Loss in Victory (Emptiness)

Losing a Part of Me (Is Like Losing a Part of You)

Mel with tiny horns and wings

As the Night Falls

Pirate Melban AU

The Loss in Victory (Emptiness)

This is the Zeldris angst fic I was talking about back in... September, I think it was? It's supposed to be for Day 31 of Whumptober, and the prompt "Emptiness". (So the actual fic title is just "The Loss in Victory"). It's a hurt/no comfort fic taking place during the First Holy War. Basically, Zeldris struggles with the news that Meliodas is dead, and also struggles with the fact that it is actually hitting him that hard because:

He should be happy about this, yet all he felt was like someone had taken a big chunk of him out, leaving an empty nothingness where his hearts were supposed to be.

And here is a longer sneak peek:

As Zeldris made his way down the hallways, they parted before him. Anyone standing in his way quickly moved out of the way, letting him pass without any hesitation. If anything, it seemed people kept their distance from him more now than ever. Perhaps it was due to the urgency of his walk, or the tension in his posture, or maybe it was whatever showed across his face. Zeldris couldn’t tell. It was all a blur to him, nothing but the insistent need to get away, get away, get away! He was desperately holding onto the last shred of his composure like a lifeline. He was exposed out here, feeling the gazes of everybody he passed. He had to get away, to his own room. There, at least, nobody was watching, granting him the small piece of privacy he needed right now.

Losing a Part of Me (Is Like Losing a Part of You)

And here we have another demon bros angst fic. Also focused on the effect of the war/them being on different sides/Meliodas' curse. This time with focus on Meliodas. You can actually thank @hihopelessromantics for binging my attention to a post about Meliodas and Ludociel having scars from training their brothers, which is what inspired this fic. I saw that post and mind immediately went "oh I can make angst out of this".

So, as for the fic, it focuses on this idea of Meliodas having these scars that Zeldris gave him. Scars that he treasure a lot. They remind him of moments he got to have with Zel as kids, of training together or sneaking off from the castle together or even just finding a chance to goof of together. Big or small, they are moments he got to have with his little brother, where he got to be a brother to Zeldris. They mean a lot to him but - uh oh! - the DK and his assholery enters the scene. With the curse, Meliodas body is healed every time he is resurrected, including the scars from Zeldris. Meliodas struggles with losing the scars Zeldris gave him, feeling like he is losing those good memories of them together, and losing Zeldris in a way.

(Unfortunately, no sneak peek available for this one).

Mel with tiny horns and wings

Now onto happier - oh wait, this one is actually angstier than I originally planned... Anyway! This one is inspired by a conversation I had with @zorria about Meliodas with horns and wings. I wanted to write about that, but also make it really tiny and adorable.

Meliodas has an impressive set of wings and horns, but, given the whole hiding he is a demon thing, he needs to hide them. Problem is, he can't actually make them go away. All he can do is shrink them (think the sizes of a baby goat or tiny fairies). Normally, his hair and clothes are enough to hide them, but the Sins discover them anyway. And here the angst comes!

Actually, this was supposed to be a silly little fic about Mel having some adorable demon features with a side of angst in the form of his fear of them rejecting him. But then Meliodas fell in a lake! Okay, the falling in the lake was always going to be a part of the fic because I needed to get him wet, but the amount of angst that came with it was unplanned. As was my mind deciding that what if in this au Meliodas can't swim...

Sneak peek time! I've actually already shared a snippet from this one (here), so here's another one:

Which was the real problem that sunny late afternoon, wasn’t it? Meliodas couldn’t swim. If you have ever been in a situation where you are faced with the possibility that you could die right then and there, you know the feeling. The pure panic that overtakes your body. The way you fight with everything you have; frantically, desperately, without control. Meliodas had been there too many times. He’d also gone one step further, been faced with the inevitable realization that he was going to die. The moment where there was no fight left, the resigned acceptance. Maybe that had gotten worse with the years. If Meliodas died, he wouldn’t really die. Even if he accepted it, even if he actually welcomed it. There was no end to this life.

As the Night Falls

This is another fic inspired by Zorria. It's about Meliodas struggling with his nightmares (because we all know that man's gotta have nightmares after his 3,000+ years of hell), featuring a worried Elizabeth and a sleeping Tristan.

Not sure I have much more to say about this one, so here's a sneak peek:

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, we’re okay. I promise, we’re okay.” Elizabeth’s voice was a light to a dark cave, wrapping around him like a blanket and zapping away all the tension. Meliodas slumped back against the leg of the bed, head thumping lightly against the wall. Gods, it felt like he hadn’t slept all night – but clearly he had. His eyes finally decided to focus, giving him a close-up of Elizabeth’s worried frown as she crouched before him.

Actually I couldn't decide on which sneak peek to share, so here's another:

Meliodas tried to not react to the mild accusation, but she saw right through him anyway. Elizabeth always seemed to know what was going through his head. After all this time, he couldn’t hide. She sighed softly, sitting down on the floor beside him. “I worry about you, you know,” she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We all do.” Meliodas grimaced at that; he had thought he’d hidden it better than that. Clearly he’d lost his touch. He supposed sleep deprivation did that to you.

Pirate Melban AU

Now I know you know a bit what this one's about. But I don't think I've actually talked about specific plot, just the general concept of Pirate!Ban and Merman!Meliodas. So, let me tell you a little about the start of our story. We meet Ban, a young pirate with a foul mouth and a bad habit of getting himself into trouble, who is (once again) finding himself without a ship to call home. While running from the consequences of his actions (literally), Ban ends up taking shelter in a cave. He's not the only one though, because further into the cave he comes across a wounded merman. Ban has grown up hearing (horror) stories of the merfolk living deep in the sea, so what if he ends up a little too curious about the stranger - he can't help it, especially after discovering the he has an attitude to match Ban's own.

A new little sneak peek (previous one can be found here):

How the fuck did he keep getting himself into these situations? Not that his one was his fault. Nope. The captain was the one who'd decided to cut his losses - meaning Ban - once they got into port. Ungrateful son of a bitch! Ban had given years to the Raven and now he was going to be left with nothing – just like that? Fuck no! So, Ban had helped himself to a little – okay maybe not so little – of their loot. So what? He'd helped get that, he deserved his cut.

Actually, since it's probably gonna be a long while until this fic is finished (I'm not the best at focusing on long multichapter fics lol), here's another sneak peek too:

With the first roar of thunder sounding, Ban surveyed his safe haven for the night. It really was an ugly cave. Cracks ran over the walls, splitting the brownish-gray color. From the outside, the cave had looked unstable, but inside it seemed sturdy and strong. Well, at least he wouldn't get crushed to death. Ban pushed off from the wall, walking further into the cave. It wasn't that big, narrowing off into a smaller tunnel the further he walked. A section of the ceiling suddenly dipped down, causing Ban to smack his head right into it. "AH fuck! Shit, that hurt."

WIP Tag/Ask Game!

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter Nine: I Want You

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael takes care of you after a long day at work.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, but other than that fluff, fluff, FLUFF!

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: This is so sweet y'all. I wrote some real domestic shit here and I am so excited to share this with you. I re-read it a million times and added even more fluff until I decided it was okay to post. Also, I said on AO3 that we have about 2-3 chapters with fluff before the Angst Train takes off again. The next one is a little angstier, but there is also a lot of fluff in there, and you're only going to start hating me after Chapter 12 :) If you want to be tagged or I forgot to tag you, let me know! (AND LOOK AT MY smiley little baby AHHH)

You find yourself at work when it finally happens.

Your phone pings and you look down to find two messages on your screen. One is from Michael, and when you open it, you have to stop yourself from laughing because why is he sending you a picture of your unicorn mug with a double espresso in it?

You store it away to answer later. The message that matters most to you is the one underneath. Maya’s name stands written over your lock screen and you have never opened your texts faster.

‘Dad gave me my phone back. Going on the field trip on Saturday. Got my friend to vouch for the money. They agreed. Thank you again, so much <3 Love you.’

You almost cry out of pure relief. You do cry, in fact, but just a little. A stray tear slides down your cheek from the corner of your eye.

Hearing Sarah’s footsteps, you quickly wipe your cheek and stuff your phone away, knowing that you’re not allowed to use it during work hours, let alone behind the counter.

“Girl, there’s this lad in the ‘no work’ section,” she says, clearly not noticing the tears in your eyes. “He’s like, so hot. I’d fuck him.”

You’re not even surprised anymore when it comes to your friend’s ability to have the most random conversations.

“Oh yeah?” you say, “Is that why you chose to personally bring him his coffee this time?”

“If ya looked at him, ya’d understand.”

You brush the wrinkles out of your apron and refocus on the dishes that still require to be washed after the first crowd of tourists came in and managed to ruin the three-hours worth of cleaning from the night before.

Truth be told, you couldn’t be any less interested in the customer she mentioned, and you don’t plan on checking him out. A few weeks ago, you might have. It used to be your favorite thing to do, battling about who gets to treat the good-looking customers that came into the café. But for you, that is over now. You don't need it anymore.

You found your good-looking customer a few days ago, and you would prefer to stay with him.

“What, not even an interested glance?” Sarah asks.

You shrug. “Why should I?”

“Because he’s hot–“ she breaks off into a gasp. “Oh, girl! You are down bad.”

You look away to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Shut up,” you retort, using the red towel next to the sink to dry the first few mugs from the rack.

She eyes you before stepping closer and pulling your shirt aside. You frown at her bold move, but after spending so much time together, you no longer have boundaries.

Sarah roams her eyes over your neck and the little bit of cleavage you’re showing. The hickeys are bright purple now, the edges slightly red where the blood is just starting to pool and she gasps again. She makes it sound as if she found out the most scandalous piece of information and you’re the main attraction in this case.

“You’re walkin’ ‘round with hickeys now?” she asks, her voice hushed yet loud at the same time.

It sounds like she’s squealing, almost, but you’re not sure if it’s positive.

“What are ya, fifteen?”

You pull away from her, pulling your shirt further up to cover at least the imprint of Michael’s lips on your breast. The one on your neck is for everyone to see; you didn’t bother covering it up, you’re embracing it, and you considered taking a picture to drive him crazy at home. If only he knew the glances you’ve received throughout the day, he would be at the door in a second, caging you against the wall and–

Sarah calls your name, her fingers snapping in front of your face. You blink out of your haze, your cheeks even redder now as the arousal floods through your body and meets with the yearning between your legs.

She was right; you are down bad.

“These look brutal,” she comments, but now she doesn’t seem as angry anymore.

Maybe Michael is growing on her.

Instead of berating you, she leans her hip against the counter and smirks. “Did ya have sex last night?”

You bite your lip. It feels weird to be talking about it because your love life has been non-existent for a very long time and you forgot what it’s like to tell your friend about good sex, but Michael is exceptional in bed and he never leaves you dissatisfied. It’s something you should brag about and yet it’s so intimate, something special between the two of you because every time you do it, it’s different. There’s not just unbridled desire between you, the emotions are just as raw and they make the experience so much more intense.

You sigh softly when you think about the feeling of his lips against yours, your neck, and the rest of your body. His hands burn their marks into your skin. The way he sounds, smells, and feels. You can’t tear your mind away from the man he is, and he is all yours.

Sarah’s smirk widens into a grin. “Oh, yer gettin’ dicked down every night now, huh?” she says. “And you’re enjoyin’ every last minute of it. I bet yer thinkin’ ‘bout it right now.”

“You know,” you say, trying to somehow save yourself, but it’s futile because she’s right; you are thinking about him right now. Snapping out of it, you continue, “You are very invested in my sex life for someone who claims she doesn’t like the guy I’m sleeping with.”

“Yes, I am a hypocrite, but I’ve noticed that you look a lot… happier, and if he’s good in bed, I mean, why shouldn’t I profit from these stories? I’m chronically single. Doesn’t mean I like Mister I’m-A-Mobster, but if his cock is good–“

“I don’t like the thought of you thinking about his cock.”

“Alright, alright, just let me have a little somethin’. I just want to know some details. Bread crumbs. Just a taste. Please? I don’t want his cock, but I want to know more about it, if ya know wha’ I mean.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you lean in, wanting to keep this as private as possible. “Well,” you say, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes and reflecting in the mug you’re polishing right now, “My dining table suffered a little last night, and I’m not talking about spilling food.”

Sarah gasps again, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, my God!” she as much as shrieks, and you have to squeeze her shoulder to stop her from causing a scene.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, and it sounds almost proud.

What have you turned into?

She claps her hands excitedly. “Did it break?” she asks. And she almost looks disappointed when you tell her that no, it didn’t break. It only squeaked a little and left scratches on the floorboards after you were done fucking on it like wild animals. But that’s all that happened to your precious dining table.

“It should have broken ‘cause that’s the best kind of sex. If it doesn’t, yer not doin’ it hard enough.”

You snort. “Let’s just say he knows how to make me come,” you say.

She smirks. “Like hard, or–“

“Mhm.”

“Does he cuddle after sex? Be honest.”

“The cuddliest.”

“Aw, man!” She fans herself. “What else?”

“Well, the way he does it… oh, Sarah, if only you knew.” You sigh. “So good.”

Her eyes widen, hoping you will spill a little more than a few mysterious bits and pieces, but then your lips curl up and she knows she has been defeated.

“That’s all you need to know,” you say.

“Ugh,” she says, “You’re boring!”

She pouts when you turn away from her to treat the next customer who just came in.

Passing by her as you prepare the order, you halt to whisper something into her ear, “If you give that hottie your number, you might get good sex, too. Maybe even some morning cuddles like me. This café turns out to be a great match-maker.”

Seeing her face, it’s clear that Sarah considers taking your advice the second it leaves your mouth and reaches her ear.

You have an excellent day. After Maya’s text, there is seemingly nothing that can ruin your mood. The customers are all nice to you and you give them your best smile, which results in a lot of tips. You can already see a brighter future for your bank account, considering Ava allowed you to close up shop at the end of the day and do some overtime to add some more hours, and you have never been more grateful.

You promised her you wouldn’t get overworked so easily, but when you’re finally done cleaning the café, your feet and back hurt and you’re almost too exhausted to even make your way home. But you still do because your thoughts flick to Michael and you know you won’t be alone when you get home. That’s all that matters to you when you make your way to your car and drive home.

Slowing down at the gas station, everything seems normal again after the shooting except for the police taping locking the place down for business, but you don’t feel as much threat coming from it now that the worst is cleaned up.

Hearing that Michael’s family was involved in the shooting shocked you to your core, but death doesn’t scare you, it hasn’t for a long time, and neither does violence. What scares you is the fact that it is so damn messy, and you don’t fully understand the magnitude of the life he grew up in and his family continues to lead.

You don’t appreciate violence, so you don’t appreciate them making a living with the suffering of others – with bloodshed and drugs. It must eventually grow sad and lonely, right? It must be traumatizing. Michael is traumatized. He lost so much to his name and now he’s broken. You can’t imagine the others not feeling that way unless they’re psychopaths in which case you never want to meet them.

They’re dangerous and you should stay away, but Michael does not fit on that roster. And somehow, when you think about it, you’re more curious now than ever about what the Kinsellas have got to hide.

With every step up the stairs to your apartment, your feet grow more tired. You just want to get out of these clothes and these shoes, maybe take a hot bath to get rid of the ache in your muscles, and sleep. You have been so wound up and in your head thanks to Maya and your incompetent family, you didn’t notice how awful you have been feeling.

You open the door, almost crying from how exhausted you are. Only after closing the door and locking the deadbolt, do you notice that the apartment is rather warm. Your heater doesn’t always work perfectly, so it’s often too cold. Tonight though, you can feel the comfortable heat of candles and a working heater hug you as soon as you step inside.

Then you smell it. The softest whiff of pasta and garlic lies in the air. You sniff, trying to make out if it’s your neighbor’s cooking or coming from your kitchen. When you hear the clanging of utensils ahead of you, you realize that it’s not just anyone making dinner in the complex, it’s Michael. In your home. For you.

He somehow got the heater to work and still turned on a few candles to make it more comfortable for you before you got home. Now you want to cry even more because it is just so considerate, no one has ever done something of this magnitude for you before – and it’s somehow only the bare minimum.

You leave your coat and bag by the door, slowly walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Don’t get startled, I’m not a serial killer,” you say.

Michael’s head whips around when he senses your presence, his frown quickly turning into a smile. “Hey,” he says. “Yer home.”

Home. It’s a normal thing to say, but he’s referring to your apartment, the one he is staying in, and now he even cooked for you. It feels like he belongs here now, with you.

He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a cozy, green sweater. You remember it from the first day you met. The color reminded you of the cloudy Dublin weather, but also the grass whenever it rains.

He smells good, you can tell it from where you’re standing, once again reminding you of ground coffee beans, rain, and Michael. It’s his unique scent that draws you in the most. It’s woody, almost, but also holds a certain whiff of leaves in autumn and the feeling of the soft summer air during a clear London night. You can’t explain it; there are too many sensations when it comes to him, and none of them can be put into words.

“You okay?” his gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes are a little wider than usual, cheeks already flushed from the warmth as you look around. “What’s all this?” you ask, your voice carrying a soft, quiet tone.

Michael frowns. “Dinner?” He smiles shyly. “I thought I’d, uh, make you somethin’ ‘cause ya said ya had to work late again today, so… Sorry, I–“

You raise your hand. “I’m not mad.”

“What?”

“I’m… you did this?” Your eyes soften even more. “For me?”

“Well, yeah, who else would I be doin’ this for? Wouldn’t cook dinner all fer myself, that’s kind of… tha’ would be a lot.”

“Michael, I…”

“Are you sure yer okay?”

With silent steps, you approach him. He follows you with his curious gaze, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to read you. You wrap your arms around his neck in answer, pulling him down into a kiss.

He smiles when he pulls away. “Hi,” he murmurs. “What was tha’ for?”

“Being you,” you say.

It warms your heart that he went out of his way to make you dinner. He made sure the apartment would be warm enough for you because you hate the cold and he notices how much you freeze at night, and how much you rely on his body to provide heat. But you were always too proud to get someone to look at your heater, so he took a look at it for you and found an easy fix. He did all of that without batting an eye, using his time alone for good, and you’re not sure how to react to that.

“Your heater had a few loose screws,” he answers your unspoken questions. “Fixed ‘em, now it’s warmer. And your tomatoes were ‘bout to go bad, so I decided I’d make some spaghetti ‘cause that’s the only thing I remember how ta make.”

You place your hands on his face, stroking the faint blush on his cheeks. “Thank you so much…”

“Ya don’t have to thank me, love.”

“Yes, I do. That’s not something I can expect, especially not after such a short amount of time together. I mean, I haven’t always been completely open with you and that would be turn-off for a lot of people, and it would prompt them not to cook dinner or- or fix my heater. I’d totally get it if you didn’t trust me and tell me now that this won’t work out, but I–“

Michael shuts you up with a sweet kiss pressed to your lips. You’re quick to stop rambling, the softness of his lips moving against yours eliciting a warmth that comes from deep within and not from outside, and it reminds you that you’re home. It’s not the apartment that makes it feel that way, it’s home.

Ever since you moved to Dublin, you had been searching for a place to call home, but your four walls have almost just been an apartment, and you struggled. Now that Michael is here with you, you feel less stranded and alone and more like you’ve finally found somewhere you belong – and that is his arms and his lips, offering you a sanctuary and a home.

Your eyes are still closed when he pulls away. “I want ya t’be comfortable ‘round me,” he says.

You can feel his hot breath fanning across your face, his fingers painting delicate patterns on the back of your neck where he is holding your forehead close to his.

“Michael, I–” you begin, but the words elude you.

“Shh,” he shushes you with his index finger against your lips. “It’s okay. Let’s just… have dinner, and then I’ll run ya a bath, and then we’ll watch a movie. I wanna be with ya. I don’t care if it takes a day, a month, or a year fer ya to open up ta me ‘cause I have so much left to tell ya, too; as long as I get to be with ya and get to know who you are, that’s all I care about.”

You nod in response, unable to find the right words. You have always been just a caretaker and telling people the truth has never become important before because no one cared before, but he does. With Michael, it seems that you have found someone who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all. You have found a home. In his eyes, you're not just someone who exists solely to take care of others. You're worth more than that, and he's taking care of you for a change to prove that to you.

With a quivering smile, you brush your thumb against his cheek, cherishing the warmth beneath your touch. "I... I want that too," you finally manage to say.

He leans in and kisses the pad of your thumb. “I know you do,” he says.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but–”

“Shh, let me take care of ya. You’d say the same thing ta me right now. And don’t say no ‘cause we both know ya would.”

Your shoulders slack as you sigh. He’s right; you can be quite the hypocrite sometimes. He smiles when your protests die down and takes your hand to lead you to the table.

Watching him, you are amazed by how natural he looks moving around your kitchen. He’s in his element, and you mentally add another talent to his list – he seems to be an excellent cook, or he can at least stand his own in a kitchen, which is something not many can say about themselves.

With a shy smile, he places the pasta in front of you. Michael put in the extra effort to plate the food well enough to make it look as delicious as it smells. You decorate coffee cups for a living, you know the eye of the beholder plays a big role in how food and drinks are consumed, so you appreciate it even more that he used herbs to garnish the spaghetti.

“I’m not the best cook,” he begins.

You glare at him from across the table, grabbing your fork. “It smells good,” you tell him. “And I’m sure it tastes just as amazing.”

“If it doesn’t, we could still order pizza.”

“Michael, darling, please stop expecting the worst from yourself whenever you create something.”

“I can’t help it, I–”

You shush him, digging into the pasta and taking a huge bite as if to prove to him you would still eat it even if it tasted like trash. You love cooking and you often do so for others because it is therapeutic, in a way. You used to cook for your sister all the time, and you would help your mother when she couldn’t. You used to make dinner for the whole family to prevent confrontation or any unnecessary violence because the fear was greater than hunger, and so food became a means for survival in more ways than once.

You don’t like to dwell on the past, but there is a reason why you often cook for yourself rather than order takeout; you don’t know any better, and that’s also why in every relationship you have been in, you were the sole provider when it came to breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Having Michael cook for you is something you never thought you would experience, let alone enjoy, but the second the delicious taste of tomato sauce, garlic, and spaghetti meets your tongue, you are in heaven.

“It’s made with love,” Michale murmurs, “I hope that’s enough.”

You reach out and gently touch his hand. “This is…” you lick your lips. He is an amazing cook, he even exceeded your expectations. “It's delicious,” you say. “And I don't just say it because I like you. This is really good.”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. This is probably the best fucking pasta I’ve ever had.”

“It’s an Italian recipe,” he says, slowly beginning to curl his own spaghetti around his fork. “Birdy brought it home with her after one of her trips and she taught me ‘cause Anna, when she was still little, I mean, loved pasta more than anythin’...” He chuckles. “So I thought I should learn how to make spaghetti, but I always thought… well, never mind.”

“You thought everyone was just pretending to like it for your sake?” you ask.

He shrugs. You must have hit a sore spot. Nodding, you return to eating your pasta, enjoying every last bite with a soft smile playing on your face. When you meet Michael’s eyes, he’s watching you intently, his hazel eyes carrying a look you haven’t seen before, and it makes you frown.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he quickly looks away, flustered.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothin’, I just… I can’t believe yer here.”

“Well, I am very real,” you say as you finish your last bite. “And you just cooked me probably the best dinner I have ever had in my life, so… not getting rid of me that easily, Mister Kinsella.”

His chuckle resembles a giggle and the sound swells your heart. You look over your shoulder, standing at the stove now and filling your plate with some more pasta. “What?” you ask.

“Hungry?” he teases.

You poke your tongue out at him. “Fuck off! I didn’t have the time to eat today.”

“I’m not judging.”

“You better not.”

“Lucky for ya, there's plenty more where tha’ came from.” He gestures to the pot on the stove. “Help yourself.”

You add another spoonful of sauce. “Oh, I intend to,” you say.

“And I encourage ya to do so.”

You sit back down across from him, your legs now crossed, and you dig into your second serving with enthusiasm. Michael watches you throughout.

“Was it stressful?” he asks eventually. “Work, I mean.”

Swallowing the bite in your mouth, you shrug. “It was pretty tame today, actually, compared to yesterday’s mess, but I was in pretty early and then I had to close up, so it’s been a long day.”

“You shouldn’t be overworkin’ yerself.”

“I’m okay.”

“Maybe you should ask fer fewer hours, hm? If I do happen to get the job, ya won’t be as understaffed and—”

“I asked for the overtime,” you cut him off.

Your words hang heavily in the air as he processes your words, then immediately frowns when they start making sense in his head. “Why?” he asks.

You finish your plate and set it aside, shrugging. “Needed the money,” you say.

His frown deepens. “How much?” His hands pat his pockets as if he’s searching for something, maybe even his wallet.

You raise an eyebrow. “Michael, you don't have to…” The last thing you want is to take money for him without him knowing why you're short this month.

He interrupts you, still. “Please, just tell me,” he says. “How much?”

You sigh. “Fine,” you relent. “It's not that much, just a couple hundred quid. But that's why I asked for more hours. It's just to make rent due this month. Please, don't–”

You’re not sure why the most human struggle embarrasses you so much, maybe because he doesn’t know the full story, and maybe because he thought you had somewhat control over your life and now he realizes that you don’t. It makes you feel utterly pathetic.

He looks at you so softly, you want to cry. He pulls out a roll of money and places it between you on the table. You don’t even want to know where he got it from, a feeling of unease spreading through your body.

“I don’t have rent to pay,” he says. “I got that from… well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I got that after I got out and was still searchin’ for a job, and then I started with Amanda and I… I don’t need it. I have some stashed away for emergencies, and if yer strugglin’ to make rent due, then you need it more than me.”

If someone from his family gave him the money, it surely is connected to drugs or any other kind of crime they use as their main source of income. He notices your hesitation and the bewildered look in your eyes, and he sighs, sliding the money back to his side.

“I get it,” Michael looks down at his hands, “Ya don’t want it because of– Sorry.”

You reach out and gently place your hand over his, stopping him from retracting the money. “No, wait,” you say. “I'm sorry. I appreciate your kindness more than you know, but…”

“I don’t want ya to question where it came from. I get it, trust me.”

Your lips curl into a sad smile. That’s what you’re doing; you are questioning where it came from and if it could get you into trouble if you were to pay this money into your bank account. You’re questioning if Michael had something to do with getting this money in the past, or what his family did to get that batch in the first place. It looks like a lot of money, and part of you wants to take it because it would help your situation, but your common sense speaks louder than words. Besides, you don't know how to accept help even if it’s served to you on a silver platter.

“This isn't because I don't trust you,” you feel the desperate urge to add, “This is just me… and the fact that I’m just as confused as you are, and this…. I can’t take your money, no matter if it’s from your family or not. I have to find a way to get back on my feet on my own. Somehow… I can make rent due. I have to.”

Michael gently takes your hand and places it over the money. “Yer gonna work yourself to death,” he whispers. “I just… I just want t’ help ya. If it makes you feel better, I will pay all of yer bills and your rent, you don’t even have to touch it, but I can’t watch ya do this to yerself longer than ya have to.”

You meet Michael's eyes. It's both overwhelming and comforting at the same time how concerned he is. His offer is tempting, and a part of you wants to let go of your pride and accept his help. But another part of you is fiercely determined to stand on your own feet. You don't want to be dependent on anyone ever again. But it's money, and it isn't as easy to come by as you originally thought when you first moved across the sea.

You bury your face in your hands. “I don’t want to be a burden to you,” you admit quietly.

“Yer not,” he says, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Please? Can I help ya just a little?”

Taking in a deep breath, you nod.

“Is tha’ a yes?”

“Yeah,” you answer huskily. The unshed tears in your eyes are burning, your body exhausted and overly sensitive.

He smiles, getting up and walking over to your side of the table. “C’mere,” Michael urges, his arms already outstretched for you. “Let me hold ya. Yer exhausted.”

The comforting scent of his cologne envelops you as you place your head against his chest. He embraces you tightly, his strong arms holding you as close as he humanly can, you let out a soft whimper. His hands work their making over the sore skin of your back, and you find yourself falling further into his arms until all you can feel is him. You can smell him, hear his heartbeat and feel his breath tickle the crown of your head as he leans down to kiss your scalp. You lose yourself in the feeling and for a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, shaking off the weight of the day and the days far before that.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your nails clawing at his shirt. “For everything. Just… thank you.” He caught you when you were falling, and you are still not quite sure what you did to deserve this kind of devotion.

Just as you took care of him, he is taking care of you now; isn’t that what a relationship should look like? You heard about it, but you have never experienced it before he came along, but you know you don’t want to live without it anymore.

He keeps his promise of running you a bath. The hour you spend in the tub of warm water and bubbles soothes the ache from your muscles and offers your feet some sweet relief. Your favorite candles adorn the side of the tub and you sink further into the bath, wanting to be consumed by this cozy feeling forever.

The door opens eventually after a gentle knock, and Michael comes in to check if you’re still awake – it’s sweet that he wants to prevent you from drowning, which you appreciate because knowing you, you would fall asleep in the bathtub and fight for your survival later.

He settles down at the edge of the tub, gazing over you. You reach out to take his hand.

“Wanna come in?” you ask.

“If ya want me to,” he says.

“Always.”

“Okay.”

Michael sheds his clothes and you watch curiously as he undresses. You move a little to make space for him behind you, and he slides into the tub with you.

You lean back against his broad chest, his arms encapsulating you instantly. You sigh. His warmth matches the one of the bath water and you find yourself hulled into a serene state of mind that doesn’t happen very often to you.

He strokes your arms and your hair, getting some of the strands wet that you tried to tie out of your face, but with him so close to you, you don’t mind. You relish in the gentle intimacy of your moment together, and even he seems to relax visibly behind you, his muscles slacking as he pulls you fully into him.

His heartbeat thuds against your ear as you turn a little, listening to your favorite lullaby. His chest moves your head up and down with every rise and fall.

You’re content.

You spend some more time in silence together before the water runs cold and you are forced to get out. You get up first, wrapping yourself in a towel. Michael watches your every curve with a gentle smile on his lips, and maybe he’s a little flustered seeing you so effortlessly naked moving around him as if you have been together for years.

As you brush your hair and tie it back up into a bun, he gets out, too, and dries himself off. You don’t talk throughout, you simply share stolen glances and soft smiles, his arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you once again. You speak through the language of touch and you both know how to translate.

Later that night, he makes some of the Popcorn he found in your cabinet, and prepares some drinks while you settle in on the couch with a giant blanket that covers you whole.

When it comes to picking a movie, you find yourselves at a crossroads because you share very not-so-similar interests.

“Just put on what you want,” you say.

“No,” he retorts, “That defeats the purpose of a movie night.”

“But I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“As long as I have ya in my arms, I can never be unhappy.”

He makes you blush with his comment and you cave, putting on a movie from your watchlist. It’s a new one, something Netflix just put out. A rom-com. Michael is not a fan, but he settles in next to you anyway, pulling you into his chest.

The blanket lies over you both as the intro of the movie starts, and fatigue instantly settles over you. His hand cradles your head close to his heart, his other arms draped around you. He’s your rock, quite literally.

You cling to him, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of the day and the mental turmoil you have been in the days before. It all falls off your shoulders in his arms and you find yourself gradually sinking deeper into the pits of sleep before you can even taste the buttery popcorn he prepared.

His fingers move along your scalp, massaging the skin, and that’s the moment when you begin to clock out completely. Your eyes roll back. You lose yourself in his touch and his gentle whispers in your ear, the stupid comments he makes about the movie you can barely pay attention to, and your eyes flutter closed.

Looking down, Michael notices that you have drifted off to sleep. A small smile forms on his lips. As he’s turning off the tv and adjusting you so he can carry you to bed, the sudden movement startles you.

“I’m awake,” you slur, your eyes open, but your mind still asleep.

“Shh,” he cradles your head and places you back on his chest, “I’m just movin’ ya to bed,” he says. “Go back to sleep, love. There ya go. Good girl.”

You close your eyes again, your consciousness slipping once more.

Michael lifts you up and gently takes you to bed. Tucking you in with the same loving touch he's always had, he makes sure you're comfortable first before even thinking about himself. You nestle into the softness of the blankets, his warmth still lingering on your skin. As he pulls away, you instinctively reach out, afraid he might slip away if you don't keep him close to you.

He climbs into bed next to you, and as soon as he's next to you, your body curls into his. “Don’t go,” you murmur. “Stay.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer as your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces. “Always,” he whispers. His lips find your forehead. “I'm right here.”

And he won’t be going anywhere, that much he promises.

Tagging for this Series: @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fic #kin amc #charlie cox #reader insert #chaos theory

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fabbyf1 · 1 year

Text

Howdy, Besties 🫡

I hope everyone is doing well and staying hydrated!

I am taking a much needed vacation as of tomorrow morning until the end of the month. (I AM FREE AT LAST!!!!!) I probably won't write very much while I'm there.

BUT HERE'S THE GOOD NEWS:

I have a quick little Lestappen PWP in the works for you! I've finished writing it; it just needs to be edited. I think you are going to enjoy it. I think it will also make you scream... (in a good way), and I'm very excited to see your reaction. I'm a fucking meme if I've ever seen one. This will most likely be posted tomorrow night (Friday PST). Hopefully, this can hold you all over until I get back home 😈😂😎

I've started working on a longer plotty fic again! But it's going to be a different pairing this time around. I hope that's okay with you all. I know many of you are only here for Lestappen, and that's okay! I love Lestappen, and I'm not done writing for them by any means. I have lots of fic ideas and WIPS for them. They're my fav ship to write for. I have just owed @takenquicklys a Maxiel fic for a while now... 😂

I'll still be lurking around these streets while on vacation, bothering you all, and posting cursed content. I'm not planning on disappearing. I'm just not going to force myself to write (for once). If it happens, it happens, but I'm not planning on writing until I get home.

ANYWAY... my plotty Maxiel fic will probably take a few weeks to write, but in the meantime, here's a little snippet for you. I hope you'll enjoy it, even if you're only here for Lestappen! This fic is a little angstier than I normally write... but it will still have lots of Fabby Fluff.

Enjoy besties and have a great weekend!

When Daniel decided to leave Red Bull in 2018, Max was... confused. He wasn’t hurt, necessarily, but it was hard not to take it a little bit personally. Because nobody leaves Red Bull Racing to go to a mid-field team.

It had to be at least a little bit personal.

Their last season together got a little rough around the edges. After being teammates for so many years, they were bound to come together on track every now and then. It was nowhere near the battle of the silver arrows back in 2016, but every time they came together in 2018 seemed to be worse than the time before.

They could usually move past it.

They would ignore each other for a day to cool off, and then they’d pretend like nothing ever happened.

It was good.

It was working.

But some incidents were harder to move past than others.

(Well done, Baku.)

After Daniel left, things got better. They were able to just be friends again and not worry about being teammates. Max became the veteran of his team and saw new teammates come and go, and Daniel had great results for Renault.

Everything was going great for both of them.

But then McLaren happened.

McLaren took a lot from both of them.

For Daniel, it took away his pride. It took away his confidence. It turned this tall, cocky, king of the late-breaking man into a too-small, too-skinny, twitchy-on-the-break-pedal kind of guy. It was hard to watch at times.

To make matters worse for him, everyone compared him to Lando. Which wasn’t fair because Lando had been with McLaren for years. Lando already knew how to get the most out of that shit-box of a car. Daniel still had to learn.

For Max, it was hard to watch his best friend hit rock bottom. Especially because Max was having such a great year in comparison. He was leading the championship for the first time. He was winning every weekend, his race suit was always damp with champagne, and he was confident that he would become World Champion at the end of the year.

2021 was the best and worst year of his life.

He won the championship, but he lost his best friend.

Fucking McLaren.

#WIP Snippet #woooooo exciting things in the works!!!!!

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houseofthewolves · 1 year

Text

The Arrangement

Part I. Terms and Conditions

Jaime Lannister x OC

MC is Breena Baratheon. The little sister of King Robert and Stannis, the younger twin of Renly. I originally planned to write my Jon Snow story for her first, since I ship her both with Jaime and Jon 🤭 Buuuuut the Jaime story is a lot angstier, and I was in the mood for some angst.

Summary: Tyrion is sent to the wall for the murder of Joffrey. Jaime is released from the King's Gaurd per his agreement with Twyin. Tywin has made an arrangement with Breena so that she will willingly and comfortably marry Jaime. Breena and Jaime come to their own agreement as well.

"I have found you a wife," Tywin declared as he watched his eldest son and heir from across the Hand's chambers. Jaime was uninterested. Fiddling with any small knick knack he could find in his father's office.

"And who might that be?" The Kingslayer asked. His tone was flat and bored. He did not want a wife. Nor children. He did not want Casterly Rock. But these were the sacrifices he made to save his little brother's life. Now here he was, being mated like cattle.

"See for yourself," his father said as he motioned for the guard to open the door. In stepped a young woman with raven hair and eyes of lilac. Her full lips were closed in a line. He knew her. Breena Baratheon. King Robert's little sister. He had not seen her since the trip to Winterfell. Since then, she had been married off and sent to the Vale. She'd squeezed out a babe, and her husband had since died. Luckily for him.

She was beautiful. There was no denying that. Her raven hair was almost darker than the night. She'd inherited the almost hauntingly beautiful Valyarian eyes from her grandmother Rhaelle Targaryen. She had a naturally sweet looking complexion. Though, when she was angry, her face no longer looked so innocent. Such as this moment. She looked as though she wanted to skin Jaime alive.

To make matters more complicated, Cersei despised her. He did not know why. For years, Breena had been the little sister Cersei never had. Then, almost overnight, Breena became her worst enemy.

Breena looked as excited about this arrangement as Jaime did. Her violet eyes looked him over, clearly unimpressed. "Lady Breena," Jaime forced himself to speak, nodding to his intended respectfully.

"Ser Jaime." She replied as she too tipped her head forward at him.

"Lady Breena has agreed to this match under certain conditions," the Hand explained.

"Such as?" Jaime inquired, his eyes not leaving his intended bride. He did not remember her looking so womanly before. It was most likely because she had been hidden beneath layers of warm wool and furs in Winterfell. Robert had sent her North years before. He believed Ned Stark would have been a better example for her than he or his brothers ever could. It was so rare for him and Robert to agree on something.

"Such as Storm's End will be returned to Lady Breena. She will inherit the castle and carry out her duties as Lady of Storm's End from Casterly Rock until she has given you two sons," Tywin went on.

"Two?" He questioned.

"Our firstborn son will be a Lannister and will inherit Casterly Rock after you," Breena spoke up, stepping closer to Jaime. "Our second son will bear the name Baratheon and will inherit Storms End after me." She explained, her chin held high as she laid out her demands. "And I am free to leave Casterly Rock whenever I please after I've given you an heir. If I choose, I can return to Storm's End and remain there as long as I like."

"This sounds like quite the marriage. When can we start?" He asked as sarcasm laced his words. "I imagine you've already agreed to this?" The Kingslayer asked as he turned to face his father. Jaime felt powerless. Trapped like a pet in a cage.

The Hand nodded. "We need to reclaim the Stormlands after we've defeated Stannis Baratheon," he said as he nodded to their solution standing just before them.

"How do you know we can trust her? That she won't betray us?" Jaime asked.

"Because we'll have her son," Tywin said simply, his deep voice almost threatening as his eyes watched the Baratheon woman before him.

"And I'll have yours," Breena reminded Jaime, her arms folding across her chest as her violet eyes darkened.

The new Lord of Casterly Rock stared in silence. He was surprised she would use her child as a weapon against him. This was certainly no longer that innocent girl from Winterfell, he thought.

"You'll be married in a fortnight. I suggest you get to know one another," Tywin dismissed them.

#jaime lannister x oc #got fanfiction #asoiaf #baratheon oc #The Arrangement HOTW

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introvert-celeste · 5 years

Note

Amethyst meeting with the fam at the ball?

I have to reiterate that I literally got most of the prompts in my inbox, including this, sometime in January, and I apologize for how late it is. I hope you like! There probably wasn’t nearly as much angst in this scene as I made it out to be, but I’ve been a ball of anxiety lately and I wrote this to decompress XD

Amethyststood unsteadily, testing her new limb enhancers as she ignored the judgmentalglare of the Peridot beside her. The foreign instruments felt uncomfortableconnected to her skin, making her extremities tingle where they ended and herbody began. She was still recovering from the installation process, a small zapon each limb to disrupt her form making it easier to interface with theenhancer’s technology, or so the Peridot grumbled irritably in response toAmethyst naïve and intrigued questions.

She took afew steps, wobbling from the unexpected weight and height. She had shapeshiftedto this height plenty of times before, but they seemed to hang awkwardly offher body. They were clearly not made for a gem as tactile as a Quartz.

“Wow, thesesure are…different,” Amethyst affirmed, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Theyfit pretty good, I think.”

“I wouldthink so,” the Peridot scoffed. “They’re made to your specific measurements.” Asan extra dig, she added, “You’re lucky Blue Diamond has made such exceptionsfor a gem like you.”

“Yeah?”Amethyst replied, trying to sound more curious than offended.

She rolledher eyes, the offense implied. “Yes. Defective gems are normally shattered onsight, and you are very lucky the Diamonds have granted you mercy.” She stoodto see Amethyst out of her station. This Peridot was clearly Era 1, as her fullheight almost matched Amethyst’s simulated size. “Now, you may go.”

Hobblingdown unfamiliar corridors, Amethyst closely followed the directions Pearl hadgiven her before she left. Clinging close to the righthand wall, she tried toremain as unnoticeable as possible. She had no shame in her size, not anymore,but the Peridot’s words still managed to wriggle under her skin and the limbenhancers did nothing to dispel her shame. If anything, they emphasized her size, making her defect all the more obvious to passing gems who no doubt heldthe same prejudices.

Miraculously,Amethyst found her way to the ballroom without incident, drawing littleattention to herself, however the crowd of gems that gathered in the confinesof the room made her want to sink through the floor. There were so many gemsaround her, she could scarcely see the far wall, save for the looming thronesof the three, currently absent Diamonds. Pink’s was barely visible, and it was amiracle that she could pick out Steven’s bored and impatient form beyond thethrong, Pearl standing impassively on one side and Connie seated on the other.

At the veryleast, the sight of familiar faces put her at ease a little.

“You’relate,” she heard an oddly familiar voice his at her gruffly. She turned to findan Amethyst beside her, looming over her despite the limb enhancers. Her heavybangs—which hung over her eyes—and notedly restrained composure said she wasnot an Amethyst she knew, certainly not one from Prime. Likewise, all of thesoldiers around her matched this Amethyst in both appearance and composure,quietly judging her.

“S-sorry,I’m uh…new here,” she stammered, smiling apologetically.

The Amethystsmirked. “Yeah, we know.” She pointed toward the crowd. “Just get in line. PinkDiamond’s gems stand over there.”

“You aren’tPink Diamond’s gems?”

“Does itlook like we are?” She laughed, turning her back before Amethyst could answerand returning to her own group, undoubtedly belonging to Blue’s court.

Despite thehumiliating encounter, Amethyst was undeterred. After all, they were not a partof her court, where she would, at the very least, find gems that hadpersonalities similar to her own. At least the gems in front of her didn’t giveher dismissive looks, instead opting to smile blankly ahead. Even at thisdistance, she could hear their droning, repetitive, pleasant greetings andSteven’s weary responses. In their awe of “Pink Diamond,” she was thoroughlyignored, and that was just what she wanted.

While shewaited, she began to fiddle with her enhancers. Having gotten used to walking,she found that the sensation was easy to ignore, as well, however awkward anduncomfortable they may be. Worried about losing one of her fingers, she focuseddeeply on keeping them all aligned, until she found that it didn’t take nearlyas much mental energy as she thought it did. In her idle waiting, she began tofiddle with them, levitating them up and around her head and over the heads ofthe gems in front of her, testing it’s reach. She couldn’t hope to understandthe actual functions of the limb enhancers, but this was simple enough tograsp.

As she camecloser, she once again caught a familiar sight: Amethysts among other Quartzes,but they were still too far away to recognize. They stood together, sometalking excitedly while others cast weary glances at the talkers and whisperedamong themselves. A small hope overcame Amethyst, but she didn’t dare setherself up for disappointment.

“Hi, how’sit going?!” She called to the nearest group, emboldened by her friendlyinteraction with “Pink Diamond.”

At the veryleast, she was sure it would impress these gems despite her obvious flaw, evengreater than the Blues she met earlier. When she approached the gatheredsoldiers, however, all she received were stony, distrustful gazes andnon-discrete whispers behind hands. They still wore the blue insignia, but itwas clear by their demeanor that this was not their original court, standoffishbut lacking the cold composure of their counterparts. They didn��t even graceher with a response, as the Blues had done, instead gathering closer into theirgroups, drawing away from her as if she were contagious. “Earth” came up justas frequently as “defect” and “small,” until she wasn’t sure which repulsedthem more.

She hunchedher shoulders uncomfortably, wishing again to disappear. If it weren’t forSteven, she would have already left, ditching her new appendages at the door,but she had to stick it out. She had to make the most of her situation, for hissake, but that didn’t lessen the weight of her limb enhancers, grown heavier under the scrutinizing gazes of strangers.

“Em?” Sheheard suddenly, then more excitedly. “8XM?!”

A volley ofshushes sounded around them, maintaining the crowded yet eerily quietatmosphere.

Amethystspun around, nearly toppling over to find the source, apprehension and adesperate excitement washing over her in equal measures. In a far corner, asmall group stood gathered away from the others, who began shooting weary looksat them now, but it hardly mattered as recognition dawned on her. Beforeshe had time to react, the caller broke from the group and strode toward her,sweeping her up in a tight embrace, ignoring the complaints of the other gems.

“8XL!”Amethyst cried, relief washing over her. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could askyou the same question,” she chuckled, holding her back at arm’s length, partially to look at her and partially to steady her. “Ithought you’d be smart enough to go back to Earth while you still could.”

“It’s a longstory…” Amethyst trailed off, smiling apologetically.

“And is thatthe human you nabbed from the zoo?” She questioned, her expression growing moreperplexed.

Amethystshrugged, unsure where to start and not wanting to waste this short timegetting into particulars. “Also a long story. All’s I can say is Steven is PinkDiamond, half human and half gem.” She stood up taller, diamond-saluting her in mockseriousness. “By helping us rescue him from the zoo, you have done your civicduty to our great and powerful overlord. You will be rewarded greatly for yourbravery.”

8XL rolledher eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll repay us so handsomely forscaring him half to death with that prank.”

The othersbegan to gravitate toward them, her relief reflected onto their own faces.There was a handful of Amethysts from her own kindergarten, as well as a coupleJaspers from Beta, who stuck out even among the variety of gems attending theball. All of them seemed to stick out, despite the lack of variation among theAmethysts, and she noticed that the other gems looked at them in the same waythey looked at her.

“Where’severyone else?” She asked, accepting a round of hugs from her fam, thankful forthe familiar crowd around her to block out the strangers.

“Back at thezoo,” 8XL replied, a twinge of disappointment in her voice.

“Why?”

One of theJaspers crossed her arms defensively, knitting her brows together. “We got aninvitation saying some of us could attend, and Holly chose the ones whowould be the least likely to embarrass her. The ones who aren’t as loud andobnoxious…or defective.”

“As ifanyone knows who she is,” the other Jasper agreed vehemently, glaring at thesuspicious soldiers nearby. “But clearly everyone knows who we are.”

This time, it was 8XL’s turn to shush them, raising her palms in caution as the whispering increased around them. Now was not the time to speak ill of higher-ups, however obscure they may be, and more attention was the last thing they needed. Like Amethyst, they were here based on technicalities. If it weren’t for their connection to Pink Diamond, all of them would have likely been shattered sooner or later, whether from physical defects or on some obscure battlefield, conquering in the name of Homeworld. They were kept relatively safe at the zoo, subjected to Holly’s bullying, while Amethyst was lucky enough to emerge after the war ended. No one wanted to jeopardize that good fortune now.

Murmurs began to roll over the crowd as they gathered in their respective spaces, looking expectantly toward the doors. 8XL tugged at her elbow, dragging her into the corner they commandeered for the occasion.

“Come on, the ball is about to start,” she whispered. “At least I went to one of these on Earth, before the war. I’ll show you a dance or two before the Diamonds get settled.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Amethyst chuckled, placing herself among her fam, feeling oddly at home, despite having only met these gems once. At the same time, however, a quiet fear began to build inside her at the thought of losing touch with them again. There was no telling when she would see any of them again. So, after a moment of silence, she added, “maybe when all this is over, you guys can come back with us…to Earth. I can put in a good word with ‘Pink Diamond’ or something. Does that sound nice?”

There was pain behind 8XL’s grin, as if she knew that it would never be as simple as that. “That does sound nice. Someday.”

#steven universe #asks #my writing #amethyst #famethyst #this was a lot longer and angstier than I planned but here it is

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bunny-rambles · 3 years

Note

i know you’ve written for kaeya twice in a row already but if its not too much still: how about reader bringing up the topic of marriage to him one day to discuss the idea of it? hurt/comfort if you can please and thank you, the blog’s been really enjoyable so far!!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Notes; hello anon! Yes, Kaeya and Itto are the uh,,, popular ones on this account, but I do not mind! I love these characters personally, so I’m not too bothered. I’m sorry this has taken so long, but like you said, I don’t want to write too much about Kaeya in just a few days, I wanted a lil bit of a break between posts. And ahh I’m happy you’re enjoying it! Thank you so much for your kind words, it truly motivates me.

A little update for the readers. Hi, it’s been a bit! I’ve just been busy writing something that’s turned out to be a lot longer than what I had intended. It’s a chaotic mess but it’s fun to write. More requests coming soon! Working on the angstier ones after this (⌒▽⌒)

TW/CW: fear of abandonment, insecurities about love, arguing, slight toxicity on Kaeya’s part, drinking.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“A misunderstanding”

PAVO OCELLUS

It all happened so suddenly. One moment your boyfriend was next to you and the next he was storming out of the door, muttering something about how he ‘needed a drink’. You hadn’t meant for it to turn into a screaming match, and you certainly hadn’t meant to make Kaeya turn his back on you. But, here you were, head in your hands with a half empty wine bottle next to you just a few moments after your partner vacated your shared home.

All you had wanted was some clarity. Some idea of where the future was heading. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… And you hadn’t even thought of this outcome as a possibility when the words had carelessly left your lips. It was only a playful comment.

“When do you plan on marrying me?”

The atmosphere had turned frosty the second you had said it. The goofy, teasing grin on your face fell quickly when you saw Kaeya’s face. He didn’t look amused in the slightest.

“Marry you?” He questioned, eyes looking you up and down before he turned away with a scoff. “I might be fond of you, dear, but I would never tie myself down for you.” Ouch. You were only joking, but his answer left a painful ache in your heart. You loved this man. You adored him. And despite not exactly being the most honest and trustworthy person, Kaeya was the one you decided to be loyal to, to be with no matter the cost. It seemed like your lover did not share the same sentiment.

“I was only…” You were about to defend yourself but his words were still heavy in the air. “What… What exactly do you see me as, then?” You wished you hadn’t asked. You should’ve just left it, brushed your words off as a joke like you originally intended.

“Just a bit of fun. You know this won’t last forever, right?” The look on his face looked exactly the same when he was flirting with you. A smug smirk with his head tilted upwards, looking down at you with his hand on his hip. But this time, there was no warmth behind his words, no love for you. You finally understood why he was given a Cryo vision. This man was cold. His icy remarks hurt more than any Pyro wielder's flames.

“What’s with that look? I thought you knew what you were getting into with me.” Yes, that was true. You had known. Kaeya was flighty and liked his freedom, he didn’t like to be smothered or controlled. You knew that, and respected it. You didn’t restrict his time in the tavern or accuse him of the unthinkable if he was acting shady. No, you decided to trust him. A decision you were quickly starting to regret.

You saw red. If he didn’t want to get married, fine. It wasn’t for everyone. But to be told your relationship to him was just something temporary struck a nerve. You can’t exactly recall what happened, all you remember was you were at each other’s throats, screaming and cursing one another until it escalated with him finally retreating.

It had been hours since then. And all you wanted was to resolve things. Maybe he hadn’t meant those words the way you thought? Looking back at it, no… You couldn’t have. He was deliberate with his words. He wanted you to know none of this was important to him. That this was nothing more than a little fling. That he couldn’t see a future with you. Your glassy eyes stared down your third glass of wine before bringing it to your lips, downing the whole thing quickly. It didn’t taste as sweet as it usually did. It tasted bitter. Or was that just the aftertaste of all the spiteful words spoken? Sparing a final glance to the door, you stood up from your seat at the table, discarding the empty bottle as you made you way out of the kitchen. But as you were making your way up the stairs, however, the door flung open.

Maybe it was the hours of crying, or the slight buzz of alcohol in your system, but you didn’t turn around to see who it was. You stayed put on the stairs for a moment, before continuing your path. You only stopped when a hand circled gently around your wrist, preventing you from moving any further.

“Y/N. Please.”

A deep sigh escaped you, before you finally turned around. You could tell he had been drinking, his body lightly swaying back and forth, the only support he seemed to have was the hold on you. The rim of his eye was red and swollen, like he too hadn’t handled your argument well. You had said some rather… Unpleasant words to him.

“Can we talk?” You wanted to say no, but there wasn’t much fight in you left, so you reluctantly agreed. The two of you made your way up the stairs to the bedroom slowly, your lover's hand gripping your wrist firmly like a lifeline. When the door shut behind you both, he crumbled. A strangled sob left his throat but he covered it up with a cough, but the glistening tears that were running down his cheeks were a dead give away that he was crying.

“I’m- I’m sorry, babe. What I said about us… I didn’t… I didn’t mean it. Any of it.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy, but his words were gentle. Whether he meant the apology or not, you weren’t bothered anymore. You just wanted to head to bed.

“Okay.” You shrugged, your own puffy eyes glancing around the room to find something else to focus on other than the man that was trying to salvage whatever relationship the two of you had. “I’m tired though, Kaeya. Lets just sleep it off-“

“No!” His hand shot out and took your arm, holding it tightly. “Just- Just please listen, okay?” You were in shock. Where was the cool, collected, smug Kaeya Alberich? This man was a far cry from everything he presented to everyone else, including yourself. He was… Desperate. And erratic. Had your words really gotten him so worked up?

“I’m listening…” You answered quietly, and he took it as his signal to carry on.

“You aren't a bit of fun, you aren’t just something that’s temporary, you’re so, so much more than that and it absolutely terrifies me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone the way I do with you, never. And if you want me in your life until death do us part, then so be it, I’d be happy to be yours. I-“

You put a hand up to his mouth carefully, stopping him from carrying on. He was barely taking a breath, you were getting concerned. It was sweet what he was saying but you didn’t want him getting himself worked up again. “Slow down, okay? Take a deep breath and calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded his head after a few seconds before gently removing your hand, holding it in his own. “These feelings scare me, y/n. The last time I trusted someone, got attached to them… They were taken away from me. If you were to ever leave me, I don’t know what I’d do… What happens if we fall out of love? An unhappy marriage is a prison sentence for the both of us. The thought of you leaving, the thought of making you unhappy or unsatisfied…” He trailed off, hanging his head as he bitterly chuckled. “You get the picture.”

He was starting to sober up now after the uncontrollable spewing of words, and you could tell that he was done pouring his heart out. And at this point in time, it was the most you were going to get out of him. Your hand moved in his grip until your fingers were laced with each other, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“If marriage scares you that much… Then I would never force something like that onto you. But… Kaeya. I’m not going to leave. Don’t you think I would’ve been gone already? I love you. Maybe I won’t in ten years because I can’t tell the future, but for right now, I love you. And I don’t plan on leaving you. Ever. Lets just… Take each day as it comes, okay?”

You watched him nod his head, giving you a squeeze of his own. Before you could let go, he pulled on your arm and brought you into his chest, his arms snaking around your waist. Your own arms instinctively wrapped around him, bringing yourself in closer to the familiar warmth of his chest.

“I love you too, y/n.”

————

extra notes: um. I don’t know how I feel about this one? I can’t tell if I like it. It feels a little messy? Maybe I’m just overthinking it because it’s longer than what I usually do. Let me know what you think! Criticism is appreciated but pls try to be nice about it.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #genshin x yn #genshin x reader #kaeya x yn #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich

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clarissalance · 3 years

Text

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you?

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.)

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!!

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat.

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows.

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation.

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent. With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.”

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks?

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away.

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said: ‘Farewell, my comrades’.

For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword.

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

“ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone?

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground!

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.”

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department.

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you.

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them.

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years.

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out.

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed.

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?"

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button.

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful.

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?”

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him.

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank.

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes.

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture.

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike.

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you.

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground.

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes.

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks.

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating.

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry.

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch.

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up.

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby.

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ” His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent?

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo.

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort. Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what?

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you.

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you?

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action.

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about.

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day? You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now!

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm.

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more.

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist.

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering.

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure.

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route.

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack.

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can.

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder?

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back.

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively.

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go?

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.”

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.

#kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #no beta we kayak like tim #genshin impact #clarissalance #who has the upper hand ?#argument #fluff #tension #smart reader #strategist #genshin varka #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc

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mamabearcat · 3 years

Note

9: a missing moment from canon 💜

Okay. Sorry in advance. This ended up a lot angstier than I'd planned.

The thing is, Kagome is a modern girl in a very violent and unforgiving time period, and I'm sure she saw a lot of things that she wasn't emotionally prepared for. And she's such an empathic character, she would take those situations to heart, and they would affect her a lot.

I'm going to put this under a read more. Contains a death (not main character) and canon level violence. I'm going to put it in my AO3 one-shot collections as well.

“Kagome? Can I get the kettle out of your backpack?”

Kagome startled at the sound of Sango’s voice so close to her, and the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly she realised that everyone had been setting up the camp around her while she’d been sitting on a tree root, silently staring into space.

“Oh Sango-chan, I’m sorry, let me help!”

Sango smiled at her wanly, her lips barely turning up at the corners, squeezing Kagome’s shoulder gently.

“It’s fine Kagome-chan. Just rest here a moment.”

“O-okay.”

And she was left alone with her thoughts again. Swirling thoughts she didn’t really want. Thoughts she wished she could bleach out of her mind, like Mama did with the stains on white tablecloths. Soak her whole self in a bucket of bleach to be hung out on the line, and go back to being sunny carefree Kagome, who’s main worry of the week was if she managed to remember the quadratic equation for that math quiz. Not the Kagome who had just seen that village. That hut. Not the Kagome who had held that boy. Not the Kagome who… killed.

“Here, there’s someone alive over here!” Shippou called out frantically, his tiny paws incapable of pulling aside the ruins of the toppled and still smouldering hut. In a flash Inuyasha was there, lifting heavy boards, kicking aside matting and broken furniture until he could make his way inside.

“Inuyasha!”

Kagome followed him into the partially collapsed hut, medical kit in hand, but Inuyasha turned to block her view.

“Don’t go in Kagome, you can’t do no good in there.”

There was a faint, gurgling cry, and Kagome slipped under his outstretched arm to glance around the room. There had been fire. There were arrows. There was blood. There was a woman, her eyes open but no longer seeing, her torn clothing no longer protecting either her modesty or the horrific end she had come to. And there was a boy.

He was young, probably around Souta’s age. But the gash across his throat and horrific burns covering half his face and chest made him look monstrous, and Kagome had to clench her teeth hard against the bile forcing it’s way up her throat. The smell was horrific, and she panted for a moment as she knelt next to the boy, trying to get herself under control. His one eye focused on her face.

“Ma…” he gurgled. Kagome glanced aside to the woman on the floor and then back to the boy, concentrating her gaze on the unmarked side of his face, smoothing the blood soaked hair off his forehead as she gathered her courage, then forced herself to take stock of his injuries for a moment. She blinked quickly, fighting back tears. Even if she tried to treat those burns, the amount of blood he’d lost from where his throat was cut, the actual cut itself – she had no way to fix this. Even a modern hospital would have trouble fixing this. She took a deep breath.

“I’m Kagome, and I’m going to give you something to take the pain away”, she said softly.

She reached into her medical kit and took out the tiny dark bottle that Kaede had given her. The one that came with extremely strict instructions and should only be used in very specific circumstances. There was no way she could save this boy. Left for dead by samurai soldiers and then horrifically burnt by the hut they’d set alight. The hut that had once been his home, his safe place. They had arrived too late to help, long after the samurai had left. She couldn’t do anything to take those violent memories away for him. But at least she could take his pain away.

Being as gentle as she could she dribbled the mixture into the child’s mouth, humming softly to him and stroking back his hair as she waited for the medicine to take effect. Gradually the ragged breathing slowed and his eye rolled back as a great sigh, and then another left his body.

Her trembling hand slid down his face to close his eye as the silent tears came. Tears for a little boy she would never know, a boy from a different time, but who in essence was probably very similar to the little brother she loved.

Inuyasha stood behind her silently, waiting for her to be ready to move aside. For a while, he’d sat in the hut with Kagome and the boy, listening to her quiet hum and the gasping breaths of the boy, watching the movement of the gentle hand. But in the end, he hadn’t been able to sit still any longer, his fingers twitching helplessly, and had gone outside to dig the graves. At least with that he was useful.

When Kagome finally wobbled to her feet, he picked up the little boy, barely a weight in his arms, and carried him outside to place in the grave. When he came back for the mother, Kagome had found a charred blanket to wrap her in, and had closed her eyes.

When the graves for all the villagers had been filled and Miroku had chanted the sutras, with Sango laying some wildflowers she’d managed to find not far away, Kagome had leaned on Inuyasha bonelessly, holding Shippou in her arms. It felt like she should still be crying, but her tears had dried up to be replaced by a feeling of emptiness. A hollow rage that had no where to go.

And that rage still filled her. The unfairness of it. There had been no reason for the people in that small village to have died. There had been barely twenty of them. It had obviously been a small farming community, a poor one, with nothing worth stealing. The only thing stolen had been their lives, their dignity, by men who had no compassion or soul.

“Kagome?”

Little Shippou was standing there in front of her, holding out a plate. Plain rice, with fish cooked over the fire.

But one look at the blackened blistered skin that she usually loved to eat had her bolting into the darkness as far from the camp as she could manage before she collapsed over a large tree root, hurling the meagre contents of her stomach onto the forest floor. The dry sobs came then as she gripped the bark under her fingernails, feeling them bend and crack as she put all her strength into it.

“Hey.”

Inuyasha was there, holding back her hair, his hand warm on her back.

“It’s not fair”, she gasped. “They didn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair”, he said, his usually gruff voice gentle.

“And I know what you’re going to say. And I know it too. I need to be tougher, harder. I need to get used to seeing things like that. I need to be stronger.”

The hand on her back rubbed gently.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything of the sort.”

He sighed then, and she felt herself being pulled backwards into his arms as he picked her up and moved away from the meagre pile of vomit, sitting down against a tree closer to the campsite, holding her tightly against him, kissing her forehead.

“You are a good person Kagome. Kaede woulda done the same.”

“I’m not a good person”, she whispered. “I killed him Inuyasha. That little boy.”

“No you didn’t.” He ignored her shaking head. “He woulda died anyway, all alone. You gave him peace, and you were there for him when he needed someone the most.”

Kagome shut her eyes, and he turned her face to his.

“Look at me. Kagome look at me.”

His eyes were the most earnest she’d ever seen them, and she couldn’t help the small sob that escaped her.

“You don’t need to be hard. You don’t!”

He stroked her hair gently as she pressed her face into his chest, tears streaming.

“Your heart, your… softness. It’s one of the things I like about ya the most. Because that soft heart a yours looked at a shitty hanyou like me and decided I was okay.”

She snorted at him through her tears, pushing at his chest with a weak fist.

“You’re better than okay, dummy!”

“Better than okay”, he chuckled. “I’ll take that. But I'm be'in serious here, you don’t gotta change, alright? Not one bit a you. You stay the same Kagome. I could never have sat beside that kid like you did. You keep be’in you, and I’ll be here to look after you.”

“O-okay…”

They sat silently for a while in the darkness, the only sounds the crackling of the nearby campfire and the wind in the leaves.

“Do ya think you could eat a little, or do ya need to go to sleep.”

“Maybe… just… not the fish.”

“Fair enough. Can ya walk?”

“Yeah.”

When they got back to the campsite, Shippou was crying in Sango’s arms as she murmured soft words to him, and Kagome’s heart lurched. Letting go of Inuyasha’s hand she held out her arms.

“Shippou, I’m okay", she said, trying to make her tone light and encouraging. "You didn’t do anything wrong, I was just sad. But I bet if you gave me a hug, I’d feel much better?”

Seeing her, Shippou bounded over to her and into her arms, hugging her tight, sobbing out his apologies for making her ill, and she hummed to him, stroking his soft hair away from his forehead. Here was a little boy who needed her right now, who she could help. And that made the rage lessen a little.

But she would never forget.

#mamabearcat fanfics #i'm sorry #inukag snippet #inukag writing ask

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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years

Text

Is It Living If You've Left Your Life Behind?

Pairing: Dave York & GN!Reader

Summary: Thanks to you, Dave escaped the showdown with McCall. You planned to take him to a safehouse on the other side of the country where he could recover and get started on living a new life. In order to do that though, he has to leave his wife, his daughters and his life behind. He can't help but wonder, is it really living if he has to leave his life behind?

Rating: T for Language I guess

A/N: This is my late submission for @autumnleaves1991-blog 's Writer Wednesday. I got into my feels tonight and Dave was calling to me. It's my first time writing for him and this is a different take on Dave than I'd normally go for. A softer/angstier Dave but honestly, given this situation where he survives? I don't see classic Dave shining through, at least not until something kicks his ass into gear. The man is injured and more than a little lost. Also, I'll probably edit this later, it's 03:30 and apparently I have a knack for posting things when I should be asleep.

Masterlist | AO3

There was nothing but the open road ahead of him as he sat in the passenger seat, a permanent grimace affixed to his face. His pain ebbed and flowed but at least that meant he was alive. Alive with nothing but the open road ahead of him and his entire life behind him.

Dave really only had you to thank for that. A life debt for a life debt even if it meant he no longer had his life, not really at least. His girls were well over a thousand miles behind him, everything he’d known and loved, he’d likely never see again. You were the only thing Mac hadn’t counted on and even though Dave had lost religion a long time ago, he thanked whatever god or higher power out there that you had kept your head about you during the showdown.

He had been furious at first that you hadn’t tried to kill McCall, only stalled long enough to get him and yourself out of there under the cover of the storm. His anger had quickly dissipated though, you had made the right call, of course. He still had trouble seeing out of his eye, a concussion from being blown off of his feet and plenty of bruises complemented the odd cut or two Mac had managed to land. Things would have been a lot worse had you not intervened.

You glanced over at Dave, hunched over, curling himself into the passenger window. Dave fucking York. He had really gotten himself in it this time but you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame him. In this industry, shit decisions had to be made all the time and Lady Luck was rarely ever kind. People died, that was the business. What else was the married father of two supposed to do when he was cut loose? Assimilate? That kind of thing wasn’t for people like you or Dave York, not really. McCall was too high up on his high horse to get enough oxygen to his brain and too blinded by his own grief to see it.

Then again, you were definitely biased.

“How’s your pain level?”

You asked, and were met with a withering glare, his newly-crooked, hawkish nose only served to further accentuate the harshness in his eyes.

He hadn’t talked much during the already several day trip. Not that you needed the conversation, but you understood better than anyone he knew who was still alive aside from the man you were fleeing from, what this felt like. You hated how people romanticized it, leaving everything behind and starting over. It never worked that way. Your family and friends lived and died and you couldn’t be part of any of it. And now Dave, Dave had two daughters and a wife but they might as well be poison now. Poison to his mind, torture to think about. Poison to the touch if he ever went to see them again, because surely McCall would be watching them from afar, waiting.

The same thoughts seemed to be on his mind, from the corner of your eye you could see him slump further into the window, clutching a small photograph he had pulled from his wallet. For all that he was, former agent, mercenary, murderer, assassin, he was still a family man, a soft man at heart and going into hiding away from this family had just as much likelihood of killing him as McCall did.

“I’m not going to see them again am I?” Dave murmured as he stared down at the photo, thumb grazing over his daughters’ faces.

You opened your mouth then closed it again, contemplating giving him platitudes or the truth. He chuckled at your reaction, a hollow sound devoid of any humor.

“Spare me the bullshit.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened and you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know Dave. If McCall winds up dead then yeah, that’s an option. I haven’t been back to see my family but I don’t have the same… things anchoring me somewhere or drawing me back.”

Silently, he turned to resume watching the passing orange and brown landscape fly by.

It had been about another two hours since he last spoke and he had been so still and quiet, you thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Why’d you do it? Why are you doing this?”

His voice is gruffer, made thicker from the knot of emotion in his throat. It startles you out of your own reverie.

“Do what?”

“Why did you bother saving me? You could have made it out of there and been in another country by now. Fuck, you could have dumped me at a hospital anywhere along this godforsaken road and still be in another country by now.”

You frowned, somehow you had hoped his relative silence meant you would be able to get through this journey without delving into any sort of feelings.

“It crossed my mind, on both counts.”

He raised an eyebrow, not so much in surprise that you had thought about it, more so that you hadn’t gone through with it.

“I didn’t have any part in Susan’s death so McCall would have stopped hunting me eventually.”

You spared him a glance, he was staring at you intently, analyzing.

“Is this the part where you tell me you love me?”

You scoffed and looked at him incredulously then shook your head.

“No, it’s even more pathetic than that, Dave. You’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have and we’ve tried to kill each other before.”

That got a small laugh out of him, because really, what was more ridiculous in their line of work than friends?

Probably having a family. Dave grimaced as the thought echoed in his mind.

“We were the best at what we did.”

He said, with an air of nostalgia and you nodded in agreement.

“And the worst, somehow even with us each taking on contracts for the other, here we are, still living.”

The small smile faded from your lips at his silence and lack of a response. Your gaze fell on him again as he shrugged his mouth and sighed.

“Are we? Is it living if I’m leaving my life behind?”

This was not the Dave York you knew. Occasionally, you had seen the wry humor, and suave exterior give way to the side of him that accepted “New Hamster” as an answer instead of “New Hampshire” but not even that remained. The Dave next to you had all of those layers peeled back. He was raw and unsure.

You didn’t answer him for a few minutes, honestly there wasn’t much of anything you could say that wasn’t a load of shit. You were both too practical for pep talks. Moreover, it wasn’t a question you had even stopped to ask yourself. The answer and the journey to that answer was a dangerous one.

“I- …. It’s the best option you’ve got right now, Dave. It’s a pretty fucked situation, my advice? Take it one hour a time and if you can manage that, take it one day at a time.”

“An hour?” Dave shook his head and rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand. “All I’ve seen for hours is dirt and sand. While Mac is probably watching Carol and the girls like a fucking hawk.”

You pursed your lips, and eyed the upcoming sign detailing the available lodging and food at the upcoming exit.

“Well you’ll have the inside of our next motel room to stare at in another hour.”

Dave slipped back into silence and you simultaneously welcomed and detested it. Things were simpler without him getting all philosophical on you and contemplating what made living actually living. It hardly mattered though because he had already gone and planted that damned seed inside your brain.

You pulled up to a not entirely shitty motel and paid for the night before going back for Dave who was waiting in the car. The room wasn’t terrible and after a thorough check, you could at least confirm there weren’t any critters who would be keeping you company. At least there were two beds.

After a dinner of pizza from the diner down the road you had taken Dave on a detour to the gas station to get a burner phone. In your haste to put as much distance as possible between you and McCall, you hadn’t bothered to get him one earlier. Once that was finished you both headed back to your room to unwind.

Dave sat in one of the rickety chairs at the small table that seemed to be actively trying to shed it’s veneer layer. With a sigh, he went to work stripping and reassembling his pistol. It was calming, relaxing for him. All of the pieces had a purpose, an order, to be pulled apart then reassembled, very much unlike his life right now. Nothing had purpose or order and everything had been pulled apart, leaving him broken shards to piece back together.

Hours passed and by the look of him, you figured Dave’s fingers might have gone numb from the repetitive movements and his eyes were drooping, well his good eye was drooping more than normal since the one McCall had nearly managed to gouge was still a little worse for wear.

“Dave, get some sleep. You’re no good to me or yourself if you’re half asleep.”

You know he’s been fighting sleep for a while now, he does every night just like he fights the pain you’re sure he’s feeling but refuses to take anything for. For the first time since you two set off, you’re not annoyed by it. He’ll sleep soundly at least once he let’s exhaustion take him. All the better for what you have planned.

It wasn’t until 01:00 that Dave was finally asleep soundly enough that you felt you could get up without waking him. Quietly, you made for the table, using the flimsy pad of paper and pen there to write a note before you walked out the door and shut it behind you. Thankfully, the city you had stopped in was populated enough that rideshare services were available and in less time than you had figured, you were on your way to the airport.

Dave woke up and immediately knew something was off. It was too quiet and there was too much sun trying to peek through the curtains for it to be the usual time you both headed out for the day. He sat up quickly and grabbed his pistol, then looked around the room for any signs of danger until his eyes fell upon the pad of paper on the table. A sharp pain arched through his skull when he stood up, a remnant of his concussion. He took the note in hand and began to read:

Dave,

I figure, if I’m lucky, I’ve got 4 hours on you. If I’m really lucky, I’ve got 6. Anything more than that and I’m disappointed in you, Dave.

He looked up from the note at the digital clock on the nightstand, it read 07:30. A wry grin threatens to take shape on his lips. You’d be disappointed.

I’m not going to make this some sort of sappy letter. I don’t have time for that shit. You were right. It isn’t really living if you’ve left your life behind. Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who really has one to miss. The only way you get to go back to Carol, Molly and Alice is if McCall is out of the picture, so I’m going to give it a shot. I left you enough cash to pay the room through the week and then some. If you don’t hear from me after a week, call the number at the bottom of this note and tell him you’re cashing in a favor for me. He’ll help you out. Might even know someone else who can help with your family. I left you the car, keys are on my bed.

Good Luck.

Dave’s throat went dry and then he saw at least four shades of red before he finally calmed down to assess the situation. Then all at once, it was like ice had been poured in his veins and things began to shift into focus.

What the fuck was he doing?

This entire time he had been wallowing, perhaps well earned, but he should have been planning. He had let his grief for the loss of Susan, the storm of emotions he felt seeing Mac still alive and a simple job that had spun drastically out of control, completely cloud his judgement. He was just as well trained as Mac, but he had let his anger and emotions get the best of him on that watchtower, he couldn’t let that happen again.

Dave moved quickly and methodically as he collected everything he needed from the room and headed out to the car. He really shouldn’t drive with his eye being what it was but he only needed to get to the airport and he could make it that far at least.

He couldn’t let Mac kill you, like Ari, Reznik, and Kovac. Family.

Like hell if he was going to let the closest person he had to a friend get killed.

If anyone was going to kill you, it’d be him, just for you trying to pull off something as stupid as this.

He knew this was the best move though, Mac wouldn't be expecting an attack this soon this time, the attack wouldn't be in the middle of gale force winds on Mac's home turf. You... and he would have the upper hand this time.

Dave got through the airport with relative ease thanks to him having TSA pre-check, no one bothered to ask him about his eye which he did his best to hide with a baseball cap.

He sat down and waited for his flight to be called. Mentally, he began going through the disassembly and reassembly of the rifle he had with him at the watchtower to help focus himself and pass the time.

The PA system broke his concentration and alerted him that it was time to board. Dave was tense when he finally got to his seat and sat down. His jaw was set in concentration as he started to come up with a new battleplan and weighing his options. Yes, he was injured but he'd been through worse on missions and come out on top.

At least one person was going to die by the end of the week and he'd be damned if you and him weren't the last ones standing.

Thanks for reading, tagging a few people interested/who might be interested:

@wheresarizona @pascalsimp @beesting77 @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @janebby @faithkeeper-81 @doin-stuff @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @kesskirata @starlightmornings @wyn-dixie

#Writer Wednesday #Dave York #Dave York x Reader #Dave York Pit #Dave York x you #my fics

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shutteredislands · 4 years

Text

REYLO MODERN AU FIC RECS

Hi!! I spent my entire winter break reading reylo fics and I feel like I’ve found some gems! I’m boring and don’t like angst, so most of these are pretty fluffy, however, always read the tags before reading. Anyways, happy reading!

Already Home - College, Roommates, A/B/O, Soulmates AU - Complete - Rated E - 79k

“Oh stop being all Alpha-y.” She flexes her foot, rolling her ankle as if to prove a point, and he doesn’t miss the wince that crosses her expression. “You aren’t my Alpha, and you definitely aren't my soulmate,” she mutters.

He can’t help but let out a dry laugh. “Thank god for small mercies.”

Okay so this is a trope fest but it was so good! I’m not gonna explain the plot in depth because I think going in blind is best for this!

Baby, It's Just Biology - Professor/Student, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 113k

For Rey Jackson, trying to finish your degree in Biomedical Science at Harvard is difficult enough when you're one of the few Omegas on campus.

It's made even more difficult when your Professor is the one to trigger your heat. You can't help it, it's just your biology.

An Alpha Omega love story.

This is the perfect balance of angst, fluff and pure smut. This one Is a lot angstier than anything else on this list, but you can see every stage of this relationship and I loved it so much! Please read the tags on this one!

I’ve got you (under my skin) - Nanny/Single Parent AU - On Hiatus - Rated E - 81k

“Hi, I’m Rey. I’m here for the—”

“Nanny,” Ben blurts out dazedly, still trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts. “You’re the nanny.”

Her smile hitches up a little wider. “Well, I might be.”

Suddenly, Ben thinks he might be in for a whole new world of problems.

Because Rey Johnson is still most likely the only thing standing between him and disaster, that much hasn’t changed, not by a long shot.

And Ben can’t seem to stop staring at her mouth.

In which Ben hires Rey to watch his son... but he can’t seem to stop watching her.

Okay so I almost never read WIPs, but this one was left off in a pretty good place so don’t worry about cliffhangers or anything. I am a sucker for single dad!Ben so expect more of these. I loved this fic so much and get ready for a SMUTFEST.

Light My Fire - Rivals to Lovers, College, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 20k

When rivals Ben and Rey break into a professor's office together, it comes out that Rey might not be the Beta she thinks she is.

I’ve never been the biggest reader of enemies to lovers, until this. This was so so so good! I loved their banter so much, and this is another smutfest lol.

Peacock - Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, Neighbors AU - Complete - Rated E - 72k

Thanks to a series of misunderstandings, failed attempts at flirting, and loud Katy Perry music, Ben grows to hate his new neighbor.

Proposing to her wasn't the best solution to his problems.

This is, hands down, one of the funniest fics I have ever read. I cried actual tears because of how funny this is. Slowish burn, but their banter will keep you engaged the whole time. I love this so much!!

An Unexpected Vacation - Scientist, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 62k

“You don’t care that someone, that people will watch you fuck?” He looks two seconds away from puking. “Like multiple, multiple people will be able to describe your vagina. They’ll probably analyze it in a boardroom. Someone will feel proud about a shitty PowerPoint full of annotated pictures. They will use words like ‘arousal fluid’ and consult charts and these things will never not be digitally saved. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Are you suggesting my vagina is unworthy of analysis?”

In which Rey attempts to bolster her bank account by volunteering to fuck an Alpha in a scientific study. Plans go pear-shaped when she accidentally triggers scientist!Ben’s first Rut.

This was a really funny smutfest and I loved that. I loved Rey and Ben so much, and Ben was the perfect “I hate everyone but you” boyfriend! I love this!

She Doesn’t Normally Bite - Single Parent/Teacher AU - WIP - Rated E - 37k

Ben Solo is a single dad to 6-year old Ellis. Her teacher isn't the old-cat lady that he expects and naturally, sparks fly when they meet. Rey helps show Ben that he is allowed to be happy and the romance is DELICIOUS. There will be the happy ending we all deserve.

Both Ben and Rey have a lot to navigate, and of course - things are never straight forward.

Tw: Bens wife died when their daughter was born - whilst it is mentioned periodically, it does not form a significant part of the story. There'll also be warnings in the notes for the particular chapters it'll be mentioned in.

THIS THE ONLY WIP I WILLL EVER READ REY AND BEN ARE SO FREAKING CUTE AND ELLIS IS SUCH A CUTE KID AHHHHHHH! That is all.

Down an Inch, Up an Inch - A/B/O, Soulmates, Gym Rats AU - Complete - Rated E - 60k

Omega instructor Rey has always been the master of her domain at Rebel Belle Barre and wouldn't dream of dating an Alpha.

When her new neighbors at Supremacy Bootcamp start ruining her classes with their terrible music, she storms over to give them a piece of her mind. She challenges the beefy ex-Marine owner Ben Solo to a plank-off and the loser has to take the other's class. When they spark an unusual connection, can Rey stay away for long?

Has she bitten off more than she can chew with the gentle giant Alpha with the warm, sad eyes?

SMUT FREAKING FESTTTTT. Okay but I loved these two so much, even though I am opposed to working out in any shape or form! I love the non-traditional soulmate part, and I really loved Rey in this.

Tea for Two - Enemies to Lovers, University Setting AU - Complete - Rated E - 67k

'"This is a tea house, you know." The plummy, ultra-posh voice startled Rey Kenobi from her day-dreaming, almost spilling the scalding hot coffee over her chest.'

Rey, an American former hacker, turned cyber security expert, has been commissioned by Oxford University to protect their systems from hackers. Unfortunately, she has to work closely with Professor Ben Solo, Merton Professor of English Literature who also happens to be Lord Ben Solo, member of the English peerage. And an unmitigated snob.

She drinks coffee. He drinks tea. He only reads classic literature. She reads Marvel comics. He is nobility. She is a nobody.

Things should go swimmingly, shouldn't it?

SO. MUCH. UNRESOLVED. SEXUAL. TENSION. I loved the slow burn aspect because I sat in bed because I was waiting for them to bone for so long. And after they bone its a smut and fluff-fest I loved this so much!

And They Were Roommates - Roommates, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 49k

“This isn’t going to work.” He points a finger between the two of them. “This arrangement.”

Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t put any specifications on who could apply.”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck then, the action making it look longer, making her wonder what it might feel like under her fingers. “You have to know that this isn’t a good idea.”

She knows what he means, she does—but she’s so tired of being brushed aside for her designation that she challenges him anyway. “And why not?”

His eyes bore into hers, his expression blank as he says, “Because I can tell how much scent-block you put on—and I can still smell you.”

In which Rey’s new roommate turns out to be a lot more than she bargained for.

EVEN. MORE. UNRESOLVED. SEXUAL. TENSION. Like these two would be eating cereal and I would be chanting, “bone! bone! bone!” the whole time. I loved these two, and the family aspect of this one was so good.

Imprints - A/B/O, Boss/Employee AU - Complete - Rated E - 74k

“I was happy you’ll be working with someone you know. He’ll take good care of you.”

Take good care of you.

The words send a shiver down her spine, sparking memories that flood her with embarrassment. She feels a strange itch just below her ear, her gland giving a phantom pulse as if her body remembers the incident even still.

Suddenly her triumph fades into dread, the idea of working here leaving a hollow pit in her stomach. Poe is still talking, but she doesn’t hear most of it. Her mind is firmly trapped in the vivid memories of six years ago— in a moment she wishes she could forget.

By the time she hangs up the phone— she isn’t sure anymore if she can do this.

Okay so this is pretty popular so I wont say too much, but it lives up to the hype. Smutfest, fluff and angst rolled into one beautiful fic!

Bespoke - Enemies to Lovers, Boss/Employee (?) AU - Complete - Rated E - 38k

When new stylist Rey Jackson receives a request to dress the hottest (and most unfashionable) new actor in Hollywood, she gets a lot more than she bargained for.

Mentally AND physically.

Because Ben Solo is freaking massive.

THIS WAS SO HOT OMG! Smutfest but also super cute. Another “I hate everyone but you” version of Ben I fell in love with. Loved this!

Incognito - Coworkers AU - Complete - Rated E - 30k

“Somehow Rey’s coworkers find out about her Daddy kink. They all kink shame her for it, except her coworker Ben. He has something else in mind.”

This was so funny! Ben and Rey were so cute, and I love Finn and Rose in this too! This was great!

A Home For Christmas - Single Parent, Sugar Daddy AU - Complete - Rated E - 109k

Rey is a struggling single mother who needs to do right by her daughter, even if it means she needs to steal. Ben is sad and lonely, recently divorced for the second time. When Rey's daughter picks him to help her find her mom, their paths cross and their Christmas becomes a little more bright.

This was so freaking cute OMG!! I know I say that a lot, but this was so adorable! I loved Ben and Rey so much, but Nova was obviously the star of the show. I cannot recommend this enough!

Unsuppressed - Office, A/B/O AU - Complete - Rated E - 49k

Rey had only ever encountered two Alphas in her entire life that had been unsuppressed. And now this third one that stunk up the entire building. Not that it stunk, his scent. In fact, it was the most delicious thing Rey had ever smelled. ///////////////////////////////////// Ben Solo closed his eyes as he rode down the elevator from the 40th floor to the lobby, trying not to reach up to his glands to scratch them. Somehow, it felt like he always caught the elevator that was dripping in the Omega’s scent. The one that wandered around the building without any suppressants. The one that smelled better than any Omega he had ever smelled before.

STRAIGHT FLUFF AND SMUT OMFG!!! I loved this so freaking much! This was whatever the opposite of unresolved sexual tension and slow burn. Like Ben and Rey tried to make this a slow burn but they could not keep their hands off of each other. I loved this!

Sunshine and Gunpowder - Hitman, Surprise Parents AU - Complete - Rated E - 48k

She’s a teacher who would do anything to protect her student. He’s a glorified hitman with a heart of black gold.

Together, they make up odd halves of a beautiful whole.

THIS WAS SO CUTE!! Like, yes, I know Ben is a hitman, but when I tell you he was the softest hit man I have ever read, Temiri was so cute in this! I loved Ben and Rey, and their UST made me love them even more. Han and Leia are also hilarious in this!

It Takes a Village - A/B/O, Surprise Parents AU - Complete - Rated E - 40k

Who knew that all it would take for Rey Johnson to interact with her enigmatic Alpha neighbor without wanting to melt into a puddle of hormones was a baby being abandoned at her doorstep?

Not her. That was for sure.

THIS IS THE CUTEST ONE YET! I REREAD THIS QUITE OFTEN! LIKE AHHHHHHH SO FREAKING FLUFFY! NOT EVEN A WHISPER OF ANGST AND A LOT OF SMUT I LOVED THIS SO FREAKING MUCH AHHHH! AND THE EPILOGUE MADE ME CRY!

Sensual Storytime - Office AU - Complete - Rated E - 23k

When Rey Johnson starts a new job, her initially antagonistic relationship with Ben Solo from IT turns into friendship... and maybe something more.

Little does she know he also moonlights as Kylo Ren, the creator of her favorite audio erotica. One day at the office, worlds collide, and she realizes the sweater vest-wearing nerd of her dreams is also the tattooed fantasy man she listens to while getting off every night...

THIS IS MY FAVORITE REYLO FIC EVER. I RECOMMEND THIS TO PEOPLE WHO DON’T EVEN LIKE STAR WARS! THIS IS COWORKER BANTER LIKE NO OTHER. AND THE SMUT ? UNPARALLELED. READ THIS NOW!

That is all I have time for right now, but I’ll make another list later if anyone would like that! Please take care of yourself and have a great day!

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jimalim · 3 years

Note

leatin prompt if you’re taking them! leah is realizing her feelings for fatin and tries to distance herself a little. fatin notices and doesn’t understand why so leah tells her she’s trying not to get attached because when they go home fatin probably won’t stick around. but fatin kisses her and promises she’s not going anywhere

I love this prompt! Fair warning this got a little angstier than I planned, but obviously it all works out in the end ;)

Leah never liked getting her hopes up.

She lived by the motto ‘lower your expectations’ so as to never be disappointed.

It certainly wasn’t foolproof, but most of the time it worked. Keeping the bar low.

It’s not like she never allowed herself to get excited, she just relished living in the in-between. Allowing herself to be surprised rather than annoyed. By having low expectations, she saved herself a lot of heartbreak when things didn’t pan out the way she may have expected had she put too much hope into something.

She finds herself having to be reminded of this strategy anytime she so much as looks at Fatin.

The words echoing in her mind every time she saw Fatin’s smile.

Screaming over and over when ever they touched.

Because despite being from the same school, Leah and Fatin never really interacted back home.

They existed in entirely separate planes of existence. Fatin in the music program, Leah in the literature program, the only time their paths allowed them to cross was during the downtime. Free period, study halls, lunch, in between bells. But even then, Fatin’s social status had her up the ladder on the highest rung, with Leah left near the ground. They barely knew each other, let alone were friends.

Leah hates herself for picturing it, a life post island where her and Fatin still got along the way the do currently. It’s a dreamland she knows won’t become reality. She imagines Fatin’s social status will skyrocket from the amount of ‘edgy cool factor’ a story like surviving being stranded on a deserted island will lend. Maybe Leah gets a little of that clout too, but given where she’s starting from, they’d never land on the same plane.

It’s when Leah realizes her feelings for Fatin might be more than friendship, that really sets her off down a self-destructive path. It was one thing to hope for a friendship with Fatin, but a relationship, well that was absolutely absurd.

So she buries the bar under the sand. Expectations so low, they’re practically non-existent.

She thinks it’s going well. Keeping her distance from Fatin is definitely hard when she only has six other people to use as buffers. But she manages.

Or so she thinks.

It’s not long before Fatin corners her during chore duty. Apparently, she’d done some rearranging of the rocks without Leah noticing.

Leah can tell Fatin is nervous. It feels uncharacteristic. The tension that hangs between them is uncomfortable and unfamiliar. It wasn’t even this awkward back in the early days of the island, when they fought on the beach. This was an entirely new feeling. The situation clouded with their growth not only as individuals, but as a pair, yet contrasted with Leah’s recent regression regarding their dynamic. There was more there than just their original preconceived notions about each other. Now there was history, though short it may be.

It was clear Fatin was trying to play it cool, to not draw attention to the way things have changed between them really affected her. The nonchalance tone of voice betrayed by the subtle shaking of her body. "Hey so I know I’m still new to the whole close friendship thing, but I can't help but feel like there's something weird happening here." She visibly exhales, clearly having wanted to say that for a while. The words finally released from the tip of her tongue, no longer blocking her airflow.

Leah is much better at suppressing her anxiousness, though barely managing a short, "weird how?" without looking up from the shirt she’s wringing out in her hands.

"Well, it feels like you're maybe avoiding me?” Fatin explains with a curiousness that is so vulnerable it makes Leah’s heart ache. “I mean I get it, you probably need your space. And I've been trying to be respectful, but it's been nearly a week and I guess I'm starting to freak out a little.” She stops working at the stain on the fabric, and looks up, eyes shining with what Leah assumes is unshed tears. “Did I do something?"

"No, not at all.” Leah wants to comfort her, hug her tight, but she knows the second she caves, she’ll be back at square one. Desperately trying to stuff all her feelings away again, compartmentalizing every interaction until she’s back to being an emotionless being drifting through the day to day, all to keep herself protected from a potential heartbreak. (As if that lifeless existence was any less painful.)

She doesn’t have an excuse, none that she can actually reveal. So Leah does her best to shrug it off, “I'm just, uh dealing with some stuff.”

It’s obvious this answer doesn’t satisfy Fatin. Barely hiding the frown on her face as she returns to scrubbing the stain, perhaps a bit to aggressively. “Oh OK, um you know I'm always here if you wanna talk about it.”

“Yea.” Leah whispers as she watches Fatin close. It’s not enough. None of it is. Not Leah’s poor explanation, not the strained shell of their relationship. Not even the low expectations. Perhaps she should consider excavating the bar, dusting it off and placing it on a shelf. High enough to be seen, eye level. A play for mutual respect, friendship. Surely that would be enough, for now, but the idea is scrapped the moment Fatin sighs as if reflecting Leah’s own mental state back at her. It wouldn’t be enough; Leah would always want more.

Fatin drops it and it’s tense for the rest of their time completing the wash. They don’t talk. No attempt at communication past that. The walk back to camp is hardest part, as Fatin merely walks away when finished without even waiting for Leah. A full five strides ahead, Fatin carries the dry clothes while Leah secures the last of it on the branch to dry.

The pressure steadily builds as the days go by. Nothing really changing, Leah still struggling to manage expectations. Pushing the flicker of hope she feels any time Fatin looks at her down as far as she can. Sighing in relief as she watches Fatin’s smile fade. Deep down she knows she’s causing this. Perpetuating the cycle, fulfilling the very prophecy she’s so afraid of. The nagging ache in her chest constantly reminds her, then the memory of heartbreak forces her to push on. Never again.

Nearly another week passes before Fatin can’t take it anymore. The cold shoulder not something she’s used to, not from the receiving end at least. “Ok this is getting ridiculous; I need you to start talking or I'm gonna end up running into the ocean." She pushes Leah by the shoulder, with a little too much force, sending the girl back on unbalanced footing.

Leah catches herself, avoiding falling but doesn’t address Fatin’s demand. This just further agitates Fatin.

“You're definitely ignoring me, and I don't know what I did to deserve this, but the least you can do is yell at me for it.”

“Fatin please, I'm not-”

“Yes you fucking are!” She’s exasperated, the crack in her voice leads to an unfamiliar wavering. She’s crying. A sight Leah can’t recall ever noticing. “You refuse to make eye contact with me, you barely participate in any group conversations if I'm around, you recoil as if in pain anytime I so much as graze your body. You might think you're playing it cool but I fucking notice Leah. I see you.”

Leah sobs, struggling to hold it all back, the damn finally fracturing. The truth leaking through. “I'm sorry ok, I just can't.”

"Can't what?!" Fatin gasps. Her ragged breathing hitting a tipping point. The air she gulps causing her jaw to tremble.

“I can't let myself get too attached to you!” The damn breaks. “I can already feel it happening and it's terrifying.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Because when we leave here it's all gonna go back to normal right? You’ll spend your days hanging with the popular crowd, and your nights pursuing any party looking for company.” It should be noted that the amount of disgust in which Leah spits this word is exactly the moment Fatin understands. Leah didn’t have to say it directly. This moment alone spoke volumes. Fatin barely registers the rest of Leah’s rant, too focused on the silent admission. “Or you’ll run off to LA and move on with your new life. And where does that leave me? Alone. Again.”

“Leah-”

She doesn’t let her rebuttal, needing to fully speak her truth. She can’t stop now. "I can't get too attached because I don't want to loose you, I can't. But I will.”

Fatin slowly walks closer, closing the distance that had been between them the whole time, not just now, but for the past two weeks. “You're so wrong. I'd laugh if I wasn't so annoyed.” She steps even closer, fully in Leah’s personal space. “You should have told me this sooner so we didn't have to spend the past week in pain.” The tears staining both their faces reflecting the sentiment.

Fatin uses both hands to cup Leah’s face, placing their foreheads together. She whispers, “I'm not going anywhere.” She can feel Leah’s breath hitch. “Don't you get it? We're gonna get back and walk those halls hand in hand, sit so close at lunch it’s like were in each other’s laps, and we'll kiss by the lockers without a care in the world who’s watching.” She nudges Leah’s nose gently with her own, “all that annoying couple shit I would have scoffed at before.” She wants to kiss her, but hesitates, “that is if I'm not misreading this situation.”

She waits with bated breath. Waiting for Leah to make the final move.

Her hands still.

Leah moves.

There’s no kiss…

Instead Fatin feels long arms wrap tight around her waist and a face buried in her neck.

She adjusts to return the hug, arms slinking around Leah’s shoulders. She steps forward, bringing their bodies flush together. It’s not what she was expecting, but feeling Leah tremble in her arms, once again she understands. After two weeks of no contact physically, Leah needed more. A kiss wasn’t enough. Starved for the sensation, she needed to feel Fatin with her whole self. Like a battery needing recharging, Fatin the conduit.

They stand there in silence for nearly five minutes.

When Leah finally untucks her face, Fatin gets nervous all over again.

“I’m so sorry.” Leah cries without warning.

Fatin wipes away her tears with one hand, the other still tangled in Leah’s hair. A silent acceptance.

“Can I still kiss you?” Leah asks while staring into Fatin’s eyes. Her voice low and full of nerves.

Fatin lets out a soft laugh, “Oh my god please.”

Leah moves a hand to cup Fatin’s cheek and rests their forehead together a moment. She laughs when Fatin nudges her nose again, impatiently waiting. She closes the distance. With nothing on her mind, the bar long forgotten. Leah relishes in the hope.

Expectations be damned.

#leatin #the wilds #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #leah x fatin

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keorami · 3 years

Text

Wow uh- I didn't expect people to actually like my writing that much, thanks you guys! I actually had another idea since I recently saw a post about a duo I actually enjoy a lot. So expect a LOT of fluff this time too and a little bit of angst! Nevermind I accidentally made it a bit angstier than expected

Since Dream was rescued by Techno and the Syndicate, he hadn't been doing much. Well, it was a mix of wasn't allowed to and couldn't do much. It apparently had taken an alarming amount of healing potions to reverse the damage from... the prison, and the toll it had taken on his body had him sleeping for a week straight. At least that's what Phil told him because he barely remembered any of it. It was the best sleep he had in a while though.

As of now he's still very weak, and was only allowed to walk around the house, but he barely left his room anyway. He knows Techno told him to make himself at home but... he hasn't lost yet.

"So, how are you doing Dreamie~?"

He came here today too. Why did he expect or hope otherwise?

Dream often played a game with him. He had to guess whether he was allowed to speak when asked a question. It wasn't his favorite game, but at least there was someone else to play with.

He chose to stay quiet.

"Dreamie, it's rude to ignore people when they ask you a question~"

Looks like he lost again. He wasn't very good at the game.

"Looks like I have to teach you again hm~?"

With every loss, comes the penalty.

He hadn't lost so far. He can't risk it.

So he just stays in his room, and writes. He knows he's allowed to do that. His memory still isn't the best, so he brought his diary with him.

Neither Techno nor Phil asked about what was inside. He was glad for that. He hopes they won't take it away from him.

He doesn't write about much though. There is very little stimulation in his room, and the only interesting thing is when Techno (or Phil, when he comes over) comes into his room to feed him and have a one-sided conversation with him. It's still better than prison though. Anything is better than prison.

It's almost time for lunch. Techno told him that he was going to be out the whole day with Phil and as such, couldn't bring him food today. That's fine, he's used to go without food for days, this is nothing.

So yeah, no one was supposed to knock at his door today. Which is why he jumped about a foot in the air when it actually happened. Who was it? Is Techno back earlier? But he would have told him it was him by now. Whoever was at the door has been silent the entire time. Is this another game? What should he do?

He hasn't heard them leave yet, do they know he's here? Should he speak up after all? But what if they get angry because he took too long to answer?

Looks like his time mulling it over would be cut short, as he suddenly had purple particles flying in his face. He knew what that meant.

"Hi, Boo."

Sure enough, once the particles dissipated, the tall, lanky figure of the enderman hybrid was looming over him. He knew for a fact that it was his Boo: Ranboo wasn't very good at teleporting yet.

He missed him, if he had to be honest. He missed him a lot. Boo was his friend, and he didn't have to play games with him. He could just... be.

"Boo?"

Dream still doesn't know why he stopped visiting back then. Maybe it was something he did. Maybe Boo just got sick of him. Or maybe he was just too busy to come visit. He hopes it was the last one.

Boo is crying.

He takes a moment to be surprised because what could he be crying about? Did something happen?

Then instincts he thought he had buried deep inside him resurfaced once more because Boo was crying and it was burning him.

Getting up from the bed took a lot more effort than Dream would have liked, and so did walking up to the ender hybrid- that still hadn't moved from his spot. He lightly dabbed at his scarred cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You're okay Boo."

And maybe it wasn't the right thing to say, because Boo just collapses on him and Dream barely avoids hitting the floor. Arms wrap around him and hold him tight; he both fears and craves the touch.

"I was so worried. I missed you so much."

Oh.

He can't believe it. He can't let himself believe it. That Boo was still his friend. That he still cared. That he didn't turn against him, abandoned him betrayed him tried to kill him-

He didn't believe it. So why...

"It's okay, I'm here now."

Why was he hugging back? Why was he comforting him? He never learned his lesson, did he? Here he was, caring and getting attached again. He will lose Boo just like he lost everyone else.

His hand instinctively went to ruffle Boo's hair, a practiced gesture that feels familiar yet completely new to him.

'Boo seems to like it when I run my hand through his hair. He says it helps him relax and feel safe.

That implies that he feels safe with me. It feels... nice? No one felt safe with me in a while. Granted, it's mostly my fault, but pushing them away was necessary. For their safety. For my plan. I wish I didn't h

I wonder when I'll have to push him away as well.'

Dream closes his diary and puts it back in the chest. He's noticing gaps in his memory and it's scaring him. Is the prison getting to him already? How long has it been?

Later on his diary would be thrown in the lava by Tommy, and that was when he started forgetting more. He gets a new one. He forgets that it wasn't the first one.

He doesn't know how long they've been at this, but eventually Boo stops crying and is calmed down enough that he lets go of him.

"I will wake up soon."

Ah.

Of course he will. Boo could never stay for long and most of his time was spent crying and getting comforted. Dream shouldn't feel so gutted. He knew this.

"You should go then."

Ranboo doesn't like him already, it's better if they don't interact any more than they have to.

"Not yet."

"Boo."

"I don't want to."

Maybe, just maybe, he kind of understands how Phil feels when either him or Techno is being difficult. Kind of.

"Please. You have to go."

He's not exactly fond of begging because when had it helped him before?, but whatever gets Boo to let go of him and just leave. The stupid stubborn little giant bastard.

"Just a bit longer."

It takes a surprising amount of restrain to not sigh. That's the best he's gonna get, isn't he?

"Just a bit then."

(Frankly, Techno had been worried about leaving Dream alone for so long, no matter how much Phil reassured that it would be fine. Between that and his chat screaming at him, you can't blame him for wanting to check on his friend- yes chat, Dream was his friend- as soon as they got back.

He expected many things upon opening the door, even the worst scenarios.

Dream and Ranboo sleeping on the floor with the latter's head on the former's lap was not one of them. To say he was confused was an understatement.

"Heh???"

Phil however, takes it in stride and simply closes the door again.

"Let's leave them be.")

#dreblr #ranblr #endersmile #endersmileblr #does it even exist #oh well #btw dream and boo are speaking in ender #ending is rushed #AGAIN #how is this so fucking long #i simply refuse to read this again: the sequel #so no beta we die like l'manberg

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remmysbounty · 4 years

Note

Hello there. 💕 A Mandalorian prompt request for you!

16. reader is a Mandalorian, and they take their helmet off for the first time in front of Din.

Hey boo!!!! So this took me a lot longer than I was planning to butttt here’s your request :) Thank you so much for sending it in, I hope you like it... I will warn you it came out angstier than I was planning too but there is soft fluff at the end so I hope that makes up for it!

also thank you to both @elysiansith and @booksmusicteaandanimals for reading this fic for me, i love you both so so so so so much and am so happy that y’all are part of my aliit

reveal heart and soul // din djarin x f!reader

You’d known Din ever since he became a foundling and you were sure you were in love with him just as long. He was the one person you wanted to bare yourself towards, reveal your soul to, but even now as you lay under the cover of darkness in his arms, you still wondered if he felt the same way.

He wouldn’t mean to make you doubt, and if he knew all the thoughts running through your mind, he’d probably say something, but instead, all you were met with was the tightness of his hand around your waist and a soft murmur that passed through his lips as he snuggled in closer to you.

You didn’t want to wake him, but the closeness of him only seemed to become a reminder of the tightness you’d been feeling recently in your chest. So quickly and quietly, you pulled yourself out of Din’s arms and grabbed your helmet before heading up to the cockpit.

When you made it upstairs, you didn’t put your helmet on like you usually would, instead you held it in your hands, watching as it was devoured by the reflection of hyperspace. There were times like these when all you wanted to do was chuck the armor away and live your life in anonymity, but you couldn’t just break away from the Creed, this is the way.

So consumed by your thoughts you didn’t hear Din come into the cockpit, the only thing letting him know that you weren’t wearing your helmet being the glint the reflection created. He wanted you to talk to him, to open up to him, he feels you slipping further and further away each day and he is terrified that one day he’ll wake up to find that you’ve left him entirely.

Staying still, he moved his sight up towards hyperspace so as to not accidentally get a view of you without your helmet on, “Cyar’ika, are you okay?”

You weren’t surprised that Din had joined you, but still, his sudden presence sent a jolt of shock through you. Deciding that you wanted to have this conversation face to face, you put your helmet on and stood up, “I’m fine, just couldn’t sleep.”

Din reached out and grabbed your hand softly, he was choosing his next words carefully and that worried you, “Have I done something wrong cyar’ika? I feel you slipping away from me.”

“I could ask you the same question, Din,” you whispered, hoping that Din wouldn’t let go.

With his other hand, Din cupped the back of your helmet and brought it forward so that it touched his, “I didn’t realize- I’m sorry cyar’ika,” Din’s hand tightened its hold on yours, “I just was trying to figure out how to ask you-“

“Ask me what?” Your voice was soft yet it cut through Din’s thoughts like a knife.

“If you’d marry me,” Din’s voice was so soft at this point you were sure if it wasn’t for the noise enhancers on your helmet you would have missed those four words.

You brought both of your hands up to cup Din’s helmet, “Yes, I’ll marry you cyare,” the two of you stood there in that kiss, “can we do it now? I don’t want to wait anymore for you to be my riduur.”

Din chuckled at your enthusiasm to marry him, suddenly feeling lighter at your excitement, and could only tilt his head in a way that said yes, we can.

The light from the hyperspace was the only thing that accompanied the two of you as you whispered your vows to one another. Your hands hovering over the bottom of Din’s helmet waiting for him to give you the okay to remove it. The humming of the ship was the only thing that could be heard alongside the usual hiss from the helmet’s lock mechanism.

Your eyes watered as they took each and every little detail of your riduur’s face, his doing the exact same when he removed your helmet for you. Your foreheads touched for the first time, skin-to-skin, and you realized that you never want to feel Din’s helmet ever again, not when you have the chance to see him in all his beauty.

translations:

cyar’ika: beloved/sweetheart/darling

cyare: same as cyar’ika without the ‘ika

riduur: partner/spouse/husband/wife

tags:

Tin Man: @captn-andor @thewayofthemandalorian @magpie-to-the-morning @magicrowiswritingstuff @booksmusicteaandanimals @dinthisisthe-wayson @littlemisspascal @din-damn-djarin @captn-andor @academiax @ohwaitimthewriter

#remmys bounty #remmys writings #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x f! reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x f! reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x you

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checkurwindow · 4 years

Text

i’m so scared

Book: Open Heart

Warnings: It’s a lot longer than my usual fic and much angstier, but hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen for light swearing.

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 5200+ I KNOW!! It’s the single longest piece of writing I’ve ever written.

Author’s note: I’m actually really proud of this fic so please reblog and let me know what you thought of it! Here’s my masterlist for more content! I wrote a sequel to this fic too!

One

That’s how old she was when her father left. Her mother knew that he was never going to stay, but that didn’t stop her from breaking down every night for 3 months when she thought her beloved daughter had fallen asleep, when instead she lay awake, wondering what could have happened to make her mother hide her sadness every day, only letting her walls come down when she thought nobody was watching.

She didn’t understand much beyond that, just knowing that her dear old dad had left for a pack of cigarettes and milk, but left behind only a stack of legal papers on the counter while her mother had gone off to work, desperate to give her little girl the best life she could.

Two

The number of people in her family. She and her mom, her mom and her. It was just the two of them, or at least that’s what her mother told her every time she asked. She was fine with that, she loved her mother with all her little heart. She didn’t need anybody else.

Her mom had found a job in Providence, a job that could support both of them, and an apartment that had a reasonable rent. She was scared at first, moving to a “big city”, but her mom assured her that it was a kingdom, and she was the princess.

Three

That was the number of bracelets she had gotten for her fifth birthday. She and her mom had been walking downtown, running some errands, when they walked past a jewelry store and saw the set of three bracelets in the store window.

She had asked her mom if she could have them, even resorting to using her best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to persuade her.

Her mom had told her that they were too expensive, and they didn’t have enough money to buy them. She was disappointed, sulking the rest of the way home.

3 weeks later, her mom returned to the jewelry store, spending almost a month's worth of her salary to buy that special set of bracelets for her daughter. She was beyond excited when she woke up on her birthday and saw that bright pink box next to her bed.

She started showing off those prized possessions of hers to all her friends at school. One was gold with a diamond charm, the other was silver with a ruby charm. The last was bronze with a deep sapphire charm. The bronze one was her favourite, even after Derek Reagan said it was ugly. She told Derek that he was ugly.

Four

That was the grade she was in when she met him.

It was a usual Monday, she was rushing through some unfinished homework when Mr Kingston, her teacher entered, accompanied by a boy who looked just a little taller than her.

Turns out it was a new student, transferring from another school that had just closed down. He was wearing a blue button-down, a big difference from the rest of the boys in her class whose t-shirts were either dinosaurs, or cars, or superheroes. He introduced himself as Ethan Jonah Ramsey while the rest of the class stared blankly at him, before returning to their own friends. Mr Kingston assigned him to the seat next to her.

“Hi, Eefen Jonah!” She waved excitedly at him as he sat down next to her.

“My name is Ethan, Jonah is my middle name,” he corrected.

She made a small ‘o’ with her mouth, thinking for a short while before responding, “I prefer Eef,” she smiled, making him blush slightly.

She took a container out of her bag, opening it to reveal large apple slices. She took one in each hand, careful not to let them slip as she turned back towards him, offering the slice in her left hand.

He slowly took one and smiled, “thanks,” he said when he noticed the set of sparkly jewelry on her wrist, “I like your bracelets.”

Five

That’s how many people were in her friend group by middle school.

First, there was Jackie Varma. She thought Jackie was a little mean when she first met her, she always picked fights with everyone. But she soon learned that she was only mean to people she didn’t like, and she even called Derek stupid when he was mean to her. She asked Jackie if she wanted to have lunch with her after that.

Next was Sienna Trinh. She was nice to everyone, and her first friend at school. She always shared her food, usually sweet treats, with everyone in class, even when Jackie was convinced they were poisonous, she never stopped radiating her positivity.

Bryce Lahela was a flirt. And rightfully so, as every girl in her class had a crush on him. Every girl except her. Bryce was convinced he knew the reason why, and voiced his opinion every chance he got, “She doesn’t have a crush on me because she’s in love with Ramsey, that’s the only reason.”

She would always blush when he said that, which was often seeing how he and Jackie bickered daily about it. Yes, she and Ethan had been best friends since fourth grade. Yet that was all they were. Best friends, never venturing out of that sacred zone.

And then there was Ramsey himself. He had gotten tall, very tall. He was easily the tallest of the group, while she was one of the shortest, barely taller than Sienna. He was a bit gangly and awkward, sometimes very quiet as well, but he was her best friend.

Six

That was the day of the month Ethan was born.

He was turning fifteen, and begged his dad for money instead of his usual books. His dad thought it was strange, as reading had quickly become one of his favorite pastimes, but waved it off as typical teenager behaviour.

A couple days before, she had lost her treasured bracelets. She had taken them off during art class, careful not to spill paint and ruined her favourite set of jewelry. She had rushed off after class because she wanted to get the cafeteria pizza while it was still fresh and hot for all her friends, and accidentally left the bracelets behind. When she came back to get them after lunch, however, they were gone. She cried for the first time in what felt like forever.

Ethan’s dad had done what he had asked of him, giving him cash for his birthday. Upon receiving his present, he rushed up to his room and took his box of savings out from the top of his closet, almost falling off the chair he was climbing to get them.

He hurriedly counted up all his money, adding to the amount he had been saving, ecstatic when he realised he had a little more than what he needed. He quickly ran out, wallet in hand, barely able to tell his dad that he was going out as he sprinted out the front door.

He finally made it to the jewelry store that, after much research, he knew carried the same set of bracelets as the ones his best friend had lost. The attendant asked what a young man like himself was doing buying such an expensive set of jewelry, teasing about if using all his hard-earned cash by doing extra chores was really worth it for a girl.

He smiled widely, heart racing from the sprint over, but nodded rapidly, forking over the money he had planned to use to buy a new set of books. When he got home, he put the shiny new bracelets in a box, doing his best to wrap them in bright red wrapping paper, her favourite colour.

At school the next day, he got in early and slipped the box into her desk drawer before she arrived.

“Eef,” that’s what she called him when something big was happening, “you won’t believe what I found!” she squealed to him after class.

She told him all about the bracelets she found at her desk, while he smiled and nodded, telling her he was happy for her. Jackie made eye contact with him and gave him a knowing look, his eyes darting around the room when he realised, but she didn’t say a word about it after that.

Seven

The number of med schools she applied to. They all applied to med schools.

She applied to Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Princeton, Brown, NYU, and Johns Hopkins.

She was accepted to all of them, which was more than impressive. Her mother had never been prouder of her.

Ethan never told her, but he applied to the same schools as her, all seven. He got into all of them except Harvard, so hoped to every powerful being up beyond the night sky that she wouldn’t accept their invitation. He wasn’t ready to lose her, not yet, maybe not ever.

After spending countless coffee-fueled nights sorting through and weighing the pros and cons of each school, she finally decided on Johns Hopkins. Ethan did too, after he determined that they had the best professors there. At least, that’s what he told her when she asked how he decided.

Sienna, one of her closer friends in the group, was her shoulder to cry on if Ethan wasn’t around, which was rare but had happened a couple times throughout the years. Sienna decided to go to Princeton, along with her boyfriend, Wayne, or was it Dwayne? Nobody really knew as he never bothered to show up most of the time when they reluctantly invited him per Sienna’s request.

The rest of their friend group split up, each going to a different med school. They made a pact one drunken night the summer before they all headed out to med schools all across the country.

They promised to meet up every chance they could, even if it meant driving in the middle of the night through storm and snow. Jackie insisted it was way too cheesy when Sienna half sobbed, half stated it while they sat on Bryce’s rooftop, bottles of alcohol and snacks surrounding them, but in the end, the tears made Jackie agree.

Ethan helped her pack for college, something she assured him she could easily do herself but he insisted anyway. He helped move her things into her dorm, something he hadn’t yet done for himself but he didn’t care. They met her roommate, Grace Young, who upon first seeing them, mistakenly assumed they were dating. She quickly corrected Grace, properly introducing Ethan as her best friend.

Eight

That’s the number of years it took for Ethan to realise he was in love with her.

Why it had taken him so long, he didn’t have a single clue. He should’ve realised it sooner, but now he couldn’t not see it. Ethan was completely sure he was mind-blowingly in love with her.

Why hadn’t he noticed the first day he met her, when she immediately shared her apple slices with him, making him feel welcome and accepted unlike most of the class. Sure, he had figured out long ago that she was beautiful, but he never thought it was love.

Why hadn’t he noticed it all through middle school, when Bryce mercilessly teased the both of them about it. “Damn,” he thought, “I hate it when Bryce is right.”

And why had he not realised it in high school, when he spent all his savings he earned over countless summers to replace the bracelets that she lost? When instead of bullying her, Derek Reagan started flirting with her, which made Ethan so angry when he saw it happen, but ecstatic when she turned him down in front of the whole school, citing all the times he had bullied and picked on her. Friends don’t do that for each other. But she was more than just a friend, wasn’t she?

Ethan should’ve known when he followed her 370 miles away from their hometown just to be at the same med school as her. Sure, it was a great school, but that wasn’t the reason he was there. He was there for her. You don’t just do that for a friend you like or even have a crush on. No, he loved her.

It was quite ridiculous, really. How had she gotten him wrapped around her finger, and without him even realising for so many years? Ethan knew he was helpless to her charms, he would do anything she wanted him to do, he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth if she had asked.

But did she know? That was the thought that circled around his head during sleepless nights as he tossed and turned in his bed. Did she know how weak she made him? How helpless he was when it came to anything that had to do with her?

He quickly decided that she couldn’t have known. She wouldn’t have let him spend all his birthday money and savings on her, let him follow her to med school, let him torture himself all these years if she knew it was all for her.

Nine

That’s how many apartment listings she had to choose from.

She sat in the coffee shop near the hospital reading over the listings. Now that they had started their residency, Grace had been matched with another hospital and moved in with fellow interns there.

This one was too expensive, that one would be too loud. She had no idea which one to choose. And to add to her troubles, she had no roommate. There was no way she could find a reasonable place in downtown Boston without a roommate, it was impossible.

That’s when Ethan walked through the door, his hair combed to perfection as usual.

“Ethan, thank god you’re here. Come help me pick out an apartment,” she pleaded, showing him pictures of all the listings.

He shrugged his jacket off as he sat down next to her, inhaling the comforting scent of hers he had grown to love over all these years that wafted through the air.

“This one looks nice,” he pointed to one of the listings, “barely a block away from the hospital, great lighting, tons of restaurants around, and the rent would be affordable for two people.”

“I know, it’s perfect but I can’t afford it,” Ethan frowned and looked up at her in confusion.

She let out a defeated sigh, “I haven’t found a roommate yet, and there’s no way I can afford that place all on my own,” she admitted and turned back to the other listings in search of a cheaper place, the frown still evident on her face.

“I’ll be your roommate,” he mentally cursed himself the second those words escaped from his mouth. He had just offered to be roommates with his best friend that he just happened to be hopelessly in love with. What could possibly go wrong?

His regrets immediately ceased to exist when her face lit up, full of delight. She threw her arms around him gratefully, hugging him as tightly as she could, and he knew every single moment would be worth it for her, “thank you so much, Eef!”

Ten

That’s the number of times he had tried to tell her.

The first time was when she came home after a bad day. It was pouring rain outside, and she had walked in completely drenched and in a mess of tears. After many attempts on Ethan’s part to try to get her to tell him what was wrong, he eventually gave up and stuck to comforting her instead. As she cried, soaking his clothes with not only her tears but the rain her clothes and hair had absorbed on the way in, he wanted nothing more than to tell her how much he loved her.

Then there was the time she convinced him to bake a cake together on their day off. He had accidentally gotten cake batter on her nose, and she laughed as she smeared some of it across his face, which resulted in a war using their leftover ingredients still on the counter. He never thought she was more beautiful than she was right there, and was tempted to risk it all. But he never did.

The third time was over the phone, he had gone home but she was still at Edenbrook, filling in patient charts when he received a call from her.

“Hey, Ethan.”

“Hey, what’s the call for?”

Her voice was momentarily shaky on the other end, it made his heart rate go up significantly, “I just wanted to tell you...hi,” was what she said after a long pause.

“You called just to say hi?” he laughed.

“Yeah. I gotta go now, bye,” she hung up before he had a chance to respond.

The next time was when they watched a movie. “Maybe a romantic movie would help,” he thought to himself as he loaded up The Fault In Our Stars. He was wrong. The movie only made her cry again, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her then.

The next time, he was determined to finally do it. He stopped by the florist on the way home, picking up a bouquet of her favourite flowers, bougainvilleas. He even rehearsed the exact words he was going to say when he professed his love to her while walking back. But he opened the door only to be met with her wearing a stunning blue sundress that left him was speechless. Only she had that effect on him.

The sixth time was in the middle of the night, around 1 am. Ethan couldn’t sleep, his head was clouded with thoughts of her and her alone. He convinced himself he was going to tell her. Yes, he was going to march into her room and tell her. He got up to tell her, but instead heard her throwing up when he approached the door. He spent the rest of the night comforting her and making sure she was okay.

Then he decided he couldn’t do it himself. He called up Sienna, who had long since figured out who Ethan was in love with. Sienna actually laughed when he had asked her to tell her on his behalf. She thought it was a joke. When she realised he was being serious, her lighthearted behavior dissolved, instead, she firmly told him that he had to do it himself, and promptly hung up the phone.

Eighth time’s the charm, right? Wrong. He thought of writing a letter, “it’s easier this way,” he thought. All he had to do was write his feelings down on a piece of paper and hand her the letter, easy. He then realised that it was far too impersonal. He knew her, hell, he spent more than half his life with her. And that’s why he knew that if he ever did it, she’d want to hear it in person from him directly.

Then he tried to tell her as they walked back from Edenbrook after a long shift. It was a typical Boston day, and Ethan decided there was no time like the present to tell her. He had every intention to tell her, he really did. But she received an important phone call that she needed to take just as he was about to open his mouth.

Finally, he decided that he had had enough. He wasn’t going to let anything come between his plans to tell her the truth for a second longer than he needed to. He planned a delightful picnic for the both of them. They headed to a nearby park that she loved on a cool but sunny day, it was a perfect day. And that was what stopped him from telling her this time.

They were having so much fun, what if by telling her the truth, he ruined the day. What if he ruined their entire friendship, years worth of time spent together wasted and down the drain all because he was so selfish? What if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, and that was the last good memory of her that he had? He gave up trying to tell her after that.

Eleven

That’s how many times she tried to tell him.

The first time was immediately after she found out. It was a shocking discovery, and she was lost as to what to do with the new information. It didn’t exactly help that it had been an awful day. On her way back to the apartment, it started to rain heavily. A terrible end to a terrible day, really. When she finally made it indoors, she instantly fell into his arms. She knew she could’ve told him there, but she didn’t.

She decided that they needed to be doing something more fun and lighthearted, so she suggested baking, and was surprised when he actually agreed. But seeing him there, covered in cake batter, who knows how much flour, and grinning at her, she wanted to keep this memory.

After feeling guilty for not telling him that day, she called him while taking a break from charts.

“Hey, Ethan,” she said, building herself up to finally tell him.

“Hey, what’s the call for?”

Her voice quivered, the nerves building up, “I just wanted to tell you,” she decided it was too much, she’d tell him another time, “...hi.”

‘You called just to say hi?” she heard his laugh on the other end.

She closed her eyes tightly, embarrassed, “yeah. I gotta go now, bye,” she hung up as quickly as she could.

The next time she tried to tell him was during movie night, but the bastard just had to pick The Fault In Our Stars. Since when did Ethan even start voluntarily watching romantic movies anyway? And he couldn’t have picked any other movie. She spent a good part of the rest of the night cursing the tears that choked back all the words she wanted to say.

Then she was going to tell him when he got back to the apartment. She spent so long in the bathroom practicing what she was going to say to him in the mirror. Time and time again, pacing in her favourite blue sundress to calm her nerves as she recited the words back to herself. But then he showed up with a bouquet of her favorite flowers. He had always been so sweet like that to her. She really didn’t deserve him, and she hated herself for not telling her then.

At 1 in the morning, she felt sick to her stomach, and rushed into her bathroom. She threw up all of her dinner from hours before, no doubt looking awful while doing so. Then Ethan showed up and spent the entire night comforting her. She knew she could’ve ended her own torture right then and there, and she was planning to. Up until she fell asleep on his shoulder.

Maybe she didn’t have to be the one to tell him? And so she drove an hour back to Providence to see her mom, seeking advice. There must’ve been a better way to tell him, a way that wouldn’t be putting her through so much agony. Her mom only hugged her tightly. She told her that she was the only one who could make the decision to tell him and wished her the best of luck.

She sat at her desk and attempted to write a letter, but how could you write someone a letter to tell them about such a subject? There was no way words on a piece of paper could explain how she felt. It wasn’t fair to Ethan, it had to be done in person.

And then there was the time they were walking back home from the hospital. She would’ve told him there, she should’ve told him there, but she didn’t. Instead, she received a phone call. She knew exactly what the call would be about even before she tapped the ‘answer’ icon.

The next was the time he set up a picnic for the both of them. It was a perfect day, it was the perfect time to tell him, but that was the moment she realised she loved him. She just wasn’t willing to stain the moment she realised she loved her best friend with her horrible news.

Finally, there was the time she actually told him the truth. It was cold, but she asked him to go up to the rooftop with her. He agreed, and they made their way up to the empty rooftop garden. They stood in silence as they looked out at the city around them, the city lights glittering like diamonds in the dark, or shooting stars in the night sky. Ethan tried to tell her first.

“I love—”

“Ethan, I’m dying.”

Twelve

That’s how many months are in a year. That’s how many inches are in a foot. That’s how many signs there are in the zodiac. That’s how many days of Christmas there are.

That wasn’t how many malignant tumours she had, Ethan refused to believe it.

Well, as he soon learned, that there were most likely more than 12 tumours in the person he grew up with, the person he loves, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the person who had much less than a lifetime to live. There were twelve tumours over a month ago, and she hadn’t told him.

He was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t know his best friend had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. It was needless to say he felt like absolute shit. She had end-stage cancer and he, a doctor, couldn’t do a single fucking thing about it.

He waited until he was out of her sight before he let all his emotions out, he asked her if she could go back in the apartment and leave him on the roof to process what had happened, she did.

He knew all about pancreatic cancer, he knew that the symptoms usually don’t show up until it was too late, he knew that it would’ve already spread all across her body. Yet, it didn’t stop him from completely breaking down after she went back down.

He sobbed, he sobbed until all the tears were gone, then he shouted, he shouted at the night sky, shouting at every being up there, screaming at them, asking how they could possibly curse the most perfect person in the world with an untreatable tumour.

Once he was done, once his tear ducts were dry and his throat was hoarse, he returned to the apartment, his eyes red and his throat sore. He quietly crept into her room, seeing those teary eyes of hers that broke his heart, that made every cell in his body hurt and scream. He wordlessly climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her. That was how they spent the rest of the night, him silently holding her in his arms, not willing to ever let go.

She fell asleep fast, she was tired, she was always tired nowadays. He was the opposite, his mind racing. He spent the entire night hating himself for not realising sooner, for missing all the clues. All the clues that were right in front of his face this whole time.

He remembered the first time he tried to tell her when she came home upset, was that when she learned the news? He thought about how she reacted to the movie they watched, he finally realised why she was crying so much more. Then there was the night she threw up, he cursed himself for missing that. It had been so obvious. But he hated himself the most for not spending all his time with her when he had the chance.

Now as he sat in the hospital room, his head in his hands as she slept soundly, all he could do was wait. Wait for the cancer to take her from her friends, her family, from him. That’s all he could do now, wait. Ethan had been in the hospital for a week now, she’d wanted to be at Edenbrook so that he could see her during his breaks, but he hadn’t worked since the day he found out.

He only went back to their apartment to take a shower every now and then, and even then he sprinted to and fro. They didn’t know when her time would be up, it could be hours, days, weeks, or even months. And he had to be around when she ran out of time, he would hate himself even more if he wasn’t.

He had called all of their friends, and they all took turns showing up at her room to see her. Bryce showed up with a gigantic stuffed teddy bear that didn’t fail to make her laugh. Jackie came with a million stories about her horrible intern, attendings, and patients alike. Sienna came in everyday bearing fresh home-cooked food for her.

His dad and her mom showed up most days too, providing words of encouragement for not only her, but him as well. They both figured out one way or another how he felt about her, and they knew how hard it was for him.

Ethan was always at the hospital, but limited the time he spent in her room. He couldn’t stand being at her bedside, watching her groan and moan in pain as he was completely fine. Everything just felt too real for him.

“Doctor Ramsey, she’s asking for you,” a nurse said. He looked up and nodded. His feet felt heavy, like they were made of bricks as he approached her room. He pushed the door open, and his heart dropped at the sight before him.

She was staring back at him, her eyes hadn’t changed a single bit. The rest of her didn’t share the same fate as her eyes. She was thinner, her face pale and gaunt, she looked exhausted. The hospital gown looked as if it was wearing her, and not the other way around. And despite all of that, she was still beautiful in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said in a whispered tone.

He pressed his lips together, choking back the tears that were beginning to form. He couldn’t handle this.

“You look awful,” she teased, which earned a pitiful laugh from him as he wiped the sides of his eyes where tears were moments away from falling.

She moved to one side of the hospital bed to make room for him. He hesitated for a moment, afraid that he would hurt her some way, but he eventually laid down beside her. Her frail frame clung to him, and he felt the dreadfully familiar feeling of her tears staining his shirt.

“I’m so scared, Eef,” her use of the enchanting nickname she gave him that he wholeheartedly loved made the tears fall from his eyes as he closed them tightly, holding back a sob.

He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t find the right words, so he just hugged her as tightly as he could without hurting her and pressed his lips against her forehead. After all, what were you supposed to say to someone whose life you would trade your own with when they’re dying?

Was he supposed to lie and say “everything’s going to be okay”? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her any longer after all the wasted time he spent lying about his true feelings. No, he would hold her. He would hold her and love her until he couldn’t love her anymore.

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sneezehq · 4 years

Text

Lights Out

Ruby's . . . tired.

This ended up longer than I originally planned (and angstier), but I think I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Today has been the longest day of Ruby's life. Between fighting their way to Atlas, finding out that Penny was alive, and their meeting with Ironwood, by the time Ruby barely has enough energy to change into their school-issued pajamas before passing out in her bunk.

Might as well get some rest while she can. They'll have a lot to do in the morning, now that they've finally made it to Atlas.

Those are Ruby's last coherent thoughts before the pull of sleep becomes too strong to resist, and she gratefully drifts off into peaceful blackness. Sleep has never sounded so good.

All of the girls sleep in the day after their arrival in Atlas, exhausted by the difficult journey and the events of the day before. Even Weiss, ever the early riser, doesn't wake up until almost eight. (For her, that's practically the equivalent of sleeping in until noon.) But when even Yang, who has been known to wake up in the late afternoon after a night of having too much fun, is showered, dressed, and drinking coffee before Ruby even shows any signs of stirring from her slumber, her teammates start to become a little concerned.

"Hey, Rubes." Yang plops down on the bed next to her sister, frowning slightly when Ruby doesn't so much as twitch in response to the weight on the bed next to her. "C'mon, sleepyhead, it's time to wake up." When Ruby still doesn't respond, Yang shakes her shoulders gently and taps at her face. Her sister remains deeply asleep, breathing slow and deep and even, utterly oblivious to the world around her.

"And here I thought you were the heavier sleeper out of the two of you," Blake muses.

"I am." Yang's frown deepens as she stares at her sister's peaceful face. "I don't get it. Usually, Ruby would wake up at the slightest noise. I've never seen her like this—except for . . ." The end of her sentence trails off as she falls silent.

"Except for what?" Weiss asks. "Has something like this happened before?"

"Well, sort of." Yang bites her lip. "You guys remember that at the Fall of Beacon, she unlocked her weird silver-eye powers, right?"

Weiss and Blake exchange a glance, nodding. "But what does that have to do with Ruby suddenly being a really deep sleeper now?" Weiss asks.

"After what happened on top of Beacon Tower, Ruby was in a coma for weeks," Yang says quietly, suddenly sounding very small. "And it was a lot like this, where she just fell asleep and wouldn't wake up again. She wouldn't react to anything happening around her. And it just makes me think—she used a lot of power yesterday, freezing that giant Grimm in its tracks. What if—what if something similar is happening this time?"

"So, you think that your sister might have fallen into a coma because of what she can do with her eyes?" Weiss raises an eyebrow, masking her concern with skepticism.

Yang sighs heavily. "I don't know. Maybe."

"If that's the case, what should we do?" Blake asks. "Should we tell someone?"

"I don't know," Yang says again. "Last time, Dad had a bunch of doctors look at Ruby while she was out, but there wasn't much that they could do to help her. She just ended up having to come out of it on her own."

"Plus, we'd have to explain what happened," Blake points out. "And I'm not sure that Ruby wants us telling anyone about what she can do yet."

"So, what do we do?" Weiss glances at her teammates as if hoping for some sort of guidance. "Just sit and here and wait and hope that she wakes up soon?"

Weiss had meant to sound sarcastic, but she's taken aback when Yang nods. "Honestly, yeah. We should just keep an eye on her for now and hope for the best. She's more used to using her powers this time around, so maybe it won't take as long for her to come out of it this time around."

"Ironwood did tell us to rest for a couple of days while our weapons are being worked on, so it shouldn't be that hard to keep this among ourselves for the time being," Blake adds.

"But if she's out for longer than that, we're probably going to have to tell someone," Weiss finishes with a sigh.

"She'll be awake by then," Yang says firmly. "I don't want to go through this again. Please, Ruby."

Her sister remains blissfully unaware of her surroundings, face slack and peaceful as she sleeps on.

None of them want to leave Ruby on her own, in case she wakes up while they're away, so they take turns leaving the room anytime one of them needs something. Weiss makes a trip to the library, returning with a stack of books for her and Blake. Blake is on coffee and/or tea duty, making multiple trips to keep everyone's cups full. Yang volunteers to be the one that goes to the cafeteria to bring back lunch and dinner for everyone to eat at the small table in their room.

Every once in a while, Ruby will snore loudly, or turn over to her sleep, making them all immediately turn to look at her, hopeful that she's finally coming around. But much to their disappointment and concern, Ruby just sleeps on, showing no signs that she plans on waking up anytime soon.

Midway through the afternoon, Penny stops by the girls' dorm, knocking loudly on the door. Yang, who has been attempting to concentrate on playing video games on her scroll to distract herself while the others read, eagerly jumps up at the interruption. "Hello?" she says as she answers the door, angling her body so that whoever is outside can't see into the room.

"Salutations, Yang Xiao Long!" Penny greets her brightly. "Is there any chance I could speak to Ruby? I was hoping to catch up for a bit."

Yang glances back at her sister, hoping that by some miracle Ruby will have woken up in the past five seconds and can come talk to Penny herself. No such luck; Ruby is still sound asleep. "I'm sorry, Penny," she says, shooting the redhead an apologetic smile. "Ruby's taking a nap right now. She's pretty tired from everything that happened yesterday. I'll let her know that you stopped by. I'm sure that she'll want to catch up once she's awake."

"Of course! I understand." Penny smiles gratefully at Yang, although it's a little diminished from her usual brightness and enthusiasm. "I hope that you are all settling in well, and that your accommodations are to your liking!"

"They are," Yang reassures her. "Thanks, Penny."

As night falls over Atlas, the conscious members of team RWBY are quickly losing hope that their leader will wake sometime today. And none of them are really in any condition to pull an all-night vigil to watch over her. They'll just have to leave her for now and hope that she manages to wake up sometime during the night.

With their luck, she'll definitely come to sometime during the night and insist on stumbling loudly around the dorm, waking them all up.

Ruby can't remember the last time she felt this well-rested. As she forces her heavy eyelids open, she can see the faint light from the sun rising on the horizon. Huh. She doesn't usually wake up this early. As she scrubs at her eyes, she yawns loudly and does her best to stretch out the stiffness in her neck. "Anyone else feel like they slept for forever, or is it just me?" she muses quietly, swinging legs over the side of the bunk.

Her three teammates all jolt awake in unison at the sound of their leader's soft voice. "Ruby?"

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #volume 7 #exhaustion #hurt/comfort #my writing #fanfic

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