#this was the direct inspiration for the show scene trust me I’m an insider | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xpeachesncream · 4 years

Text

first position | one shot

summary: your bestfriend’s ex ain’t shit, especially if he’s never made her orgasm. (based on this ask)

pairing: jungkook x reader x reader’s bestfriend

genre: (18+) college au | smut

words: 2.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, threesome, protected sex, multiple orgasms, breast play, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, ass smacking, pussy smacking, doggy style, hair pulling, slightly rough sex

note: drew some inspiration from lani’s “first position” song (linked above); please know that this is an entirely new level of smut for me so i apologize if shit sounds kind of off. super unfamiliar with threesome scenes, but i did my best to read up on actual accounts to see what people describe it to be like ahaha ALSO - wips are updated, feel free to see what my messy brain is working up nowadays lol enjoy ya’ll 🤓 this goes out to you, anon! i tried! lol

"Baby, open up!" Jungkook says, knocking on your door. You stumble a bit, laughing with your bestfriend. You both had been drinking wine all night and shared a blunt together before calling your boyfriend, whining for some food.

"Gookieeee." You giggle as you open the door and throw your arms around his neck. He pulls back to kiss you on the lips before helping himself inside and tossing off his shoes.

"Jungkook! The savior!" Your bestfriend says as he sets the food down onto the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank me later. I'd rather grab the food then let you two drunkies head out like this."

"We aren't drunk, silly."

"Okay." He chuckles as he plops onto the couch, manspreading as he flips the channel on your tv to the Warriors vs. Pacers basketball game. "That's more I like it."

"Excuse me." You say as you shove fries into your mouth, your bestfriend devouring her burger next to you in the kitchen. "You're getting comfortable."

"Mhm, I sure am."

"Babe, it's a girl's night."

"Mm no, it's no longer a girl's night after my babygirl asks me to leave the comfort of my bed just to bring her food."

"Sorry to interrupt your jacking off session."

"Yeah, exactly." He says. "What'd you guys drink tonight?"

"Wine, wine and more wine. Smoked a blunt too." He laughs.

"Time of your lives, ey?"

"Lana just got dumped by that ungrateful dumbass, of course I gotta treat her."

"Hey, for what it's worth Lana - Namjoon didn't deserve you." He looks at your bestfriend, sympathy poking through his facial expression. Lana and Namjoon had been dating on and off for almost 2.5 years until that stupid ass decided he wanted to cheat and pursue other women like he had it like that. He for sure didn't though. He couldn't even make Lana cum properly. At all, even.

"Yeah, he didn't even know how to make you cum." Jungkook's eyes widened.

"The fuck?" He chuckled. "Really? After all these years?"

"Um, yeah. I guess that's just how he gets down." She says shyly. She was so innocent, being that she hadn't really been in a relationship besides with Namjoon. She hadn't explored much being that he was so narrow minded and she did a lot to keep him happy in the relationship.

"So.. would you like, fake it?" Jungkook asks, curiosity in his eyes.

"No, she wouldn't even get there babe!"

"Huh?" He's utterly confused and he's not even trying to hide it.

"He would like, you know, do it until he came then that was it."

"Huh." He nods. "He wouldn't even try? Interesting." Kook says, making you laugh. "I make Y/N cum at least 5 times a day."

"Shut the fuck up, boy. No you don't." You throw a fry at him.

"Boohoo, okay. It's like 3 at the very least. I could make her cum more but she's always crying for me to stop cause she can't take it." You raise your middle finger at your boyfriend.

"H-how does it feel?"

"To cum?" Kook asks.

"Euphoric. Like no other." You respond. Jungkook looks at you, then back at her, a little turned on by the conversation. Lana was pretty, and she definitely deserved better as both you and Kook stated. She was innocent at best, but you knew she was curious.

"I wish I knew." She says, sipping on more wine, making a bright idea pop into your head.

"Hey." You lightly squeeze her side. "I have an idea, but it's totally okay if you don't wanna go with it. I don't wanna make you do something you aren't comfortable with."

"Hm?" She hums as she watches you give Jungkook a small smirk that he returns. He honestly doesn't know what your crazy ass is thinking about, but whatever it is, he's down. He always is, and that's what he loved about you - you were always down, and you taught him that. Life's too fucking short.

"Let's put you on." You say nodding to the room. "Let me and Kook show you what it's like." Jungkook almost chokes on his water.

"I-I— like a threesome? I don't know, I'm not that experienced, I wouldn't—"

"Girl, we'll guide you through it."

"But Jungkook, he's your boyfriend, I can't—"

"And that's not gonna change. He's down, trust me. Look at his stupidly cute face." You both turn to him, his doe eyes wide with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Seriously though, Lana. If you aren't comfortable—" Jungkook chimes in, reassuring her.

"I'm down." She spits out and nods. "I'm down. Let's do it. As long as things don't change between us."

"It won't, I promise, okay?" You grab her hand and lead her to your room.

"Oh shit." Jungkook says, throwing the remote aside to catch you two. He walks in and stops at the door frame, watching you two sit on your bed. Honestly, he was down but he was also still feeling a little concerned about how this would go down. Of course, he was the only sober one here, you two being crossfaded almost out of your minds and more relaxed than he was. He didn't really have an issue though. As long as nothing changed between you, Lana and himself, then things would be fine. Especially between Lana and you. You had been bestfriends since college started.

He didn't think it would though, so fuck it.

"Just, follow along. Okay? If you're ever uncomfortable or want us to stop, just say so."

"Say ex or something weird." Jungkook spits out.

"Um, okay." You sit up on your knees as she leans back into your pillows, and gently start feeling up her arms.

"Relax, Lana." You say at a whisper, your lips about to fall onto hers. She takes the kiss as it builds up slowly. You feel her ease up, her arms climbing up yours as her tongue begins to explore and fight yours for dominance.

"Jeeeeesus fucking christ." Jungkook says, swiping his hand down his face as he continues to watch you and Lana tongue each other down. He felt himself getting harder by the minute, watching as the sound of sloppy, wet kisses began to fill the room and your shirts began to fly off. You pull away for a second to look back at him and signal for him to come over, his baggy long sleeve immediately coming off as he climbs onto the bed. You direct Lana to release your bra as you with hers. You're practically straddling her at this point, Jungkook's hands now roaming up your body. His hand grips your neck as he tilts it back, laying kisses along your jaw before nibbling your earlobe. You let out a breathy moan, your hips grinding against Lana's, causing her to bite her lip and let out a small moan as your hands begin to feel up on her breasts.

"Lay back." You say softly, Lana silently following the order. You begin to take off her leggings, throwing them across your room as Kook is gently laying kisses down your back. "Behind me, babe." You give him a quick look with Jungkook fully understanding the request. He steps off the bed, giving you space to lower yourself onto Lana's clothed clit. You press your lips against it while Jungkook is wrestling to take off your sweats and toss them aside, his fingers already getting busy with rubbing your clothed pussy as he tries to work with it from behind you and off the bed. Lana lets out a moan as she watches you closely, your finger hooking her panties to the side and your tongue giving her pussy a good swipe up. She trembles a bit with the contact, but settles quickly as you begin to work your mouth against her folds, then back up to her clit.

"Ohhhh shit. He's never done it like that." Lana says as she lets out a few breaths. You moan against her clit as Jungkook is now pumping his digits in and out of you quickly, his tongue continuously teasing, tip penetrating your entrance whenever his digits aren't doing the work. Lana's hips begin to buck upwards and grind onto your tongue, fucking her pussy more and more into this unfamiliar pleasure. "Oh fuck, oh my god! I don't know if I can do this." She whines as she grips the sheets, her knuckles turning white. You nod, signaling for her to let go as your tongue is now teasing her clit, working in up and down motions.

"Fuck, Kook!" You manage to spit out. You're so fucking turned on by the sight in your bedroom right now, and you have no idea if it's because you're pretty crossfaded, but this shit was pretty and all you wanted to do was feel good and make your bestfriend feel good. After all, she deserves to feel it once in her lifetime and if Namjoon wasn't gonna do that shit, then you'd gladly be the one to let her experience it.

"Cum for me, baby." He says as he quickly pulls back to give your pussy a good smack before he latches on again. "Let me feel it." The words alone, along with your moaning into Lana's clit, sends her over, her body trembling graciously in your grip.

"Fuck! What the fuck!" She screams, whining moans leaving her mouth quickly afterwards. You soon let yourself go, detaching yourself from her clit, your body trembling on all fours with Jungkook rubbing your clit like there's no tomorrow. The pain quickly turns into more pleasure, you crashing your body ontop of Lana's as you both try to regulate your breathing and come back down from your highs. Jungkook is hard as a fucking rock seeing the both of you completely fucked out already, especially you having done work on Lana at the same time as he pleased you.

"What do I do next?" You look at her as you finally gain the energy to raise your body a bit, shaking your head.

"Stay. Kook, get in her first." Jungkook is already unwrapping the first condom and sliding it down his dick.

"You both okay?" He manages to ask, Lana simply giving him a nod as he warns her with a tap of his reddened tip against her folds. "I'll take it slow. You just let me know what you want." You smirk down at her.

"Use him, Lana."

"W-what?" Her back slightly arches as her eyes roll to the back of her head feeling Jungkook fill her up. Although she had agreed to it, she didn't think her first fuck out of a relationship was gonna be with you and your boyfriend. Let alone did she ever think Jungkook would be penetrating her the way he was right now.

But fuck it. There's a first for everything.

"Use him." You repeat as you situate yourself on top of her, your lips landing back on hers with Jungkook's hand in your hair. "Tell him what you want to make you cum again."

"F-faster." She spits out in between kisses. Jungkook obeys, his thrusts now becoming quicker.

"Shit, dude." He says, his head tilting back in pleasure. "This is so fucking hot." You lower yourself a bit, your mouth latching onto her nipples one by one. You tease her a bit, your tongue flicking in and around her hardened bud, smirking into it when you hear her let out a loud moan.

"Fuck, yes. Please. Just like that." She begs. "Rougher please." You pull back on her nipple with a pop, lightly blowing air onto it as Jungkook begins to sloppily ram into her pussy. Caressing her skin, you can feel the goosebumps radiating throughout her body before you lower yourself back down onto her other nipple and repeat the process.

"Cum, Lana." Jungkook groans. "Cum all over this dick. It's your playing field right now." You smirk as your tongue continues to tease her nipple, her moans getting louder the more he hammers into her.

"Cum, babe." You say as you hop off and reach down to rub her clit. With just a few rubs, she's hurdling over the edge, her body trembling once more as she yells.

"Holy fuck! Ugghhhhhffffgod." Her breathing hitching as the aftershocks ripple through her.

"On your knees, babygirl." Jungkook orders you to get on your fours while switching out the condom to a new one, Lana slowly slipping out from under you to get on her fours and face you. Jungkook doesn't waste any time, roughly inserting himself into you and filling you up until he bottoms out. He feels a little more comfortable, knowing he can roughhouse the fuck out of you more than he could with Lana, so he begins to hammer into you and tug onto your hair at the same time.

"Jungkook, fuck." You moan, his large hand smacking your ass as he quickens his pace. Lana's now planting kisses along your neck while Jungkook holds you steady with your hair, her hands roaming around your breasts and giving them a good, gentle squeeze.

"Shit, I-I'm gonna cum soon." He says, biting his bottom lip. "Cum with me baby." He moans. Lana's hand travels down to your clit, copying what she's learned from you by rubbing it in circular motions.

"Ohhhhhhgod, yes!" You moan, but aren't able to release any other noise afterwards. You continue to whine as the loud, lewd noises of skin against skin continue filling the room. Sooner or later, you feel yourself unraveling, Jungkook's nails digging deep into your hips while Lana continues to rub your clit gently to help you ride out your high. "Oh my fucking god." You say as you try to regulate your breathing. Lana immediately throws her panties and her clothes back on, feeling shy with Jungkook being in the room.

"How'd that feel?" He says, throwing on his clothes while handing you yours. You look at her and smirk, licking your bottom lip.

"Good, I hope." Lana chuckles.

"Fucking amazing."

"Maybe we should do this more often."

"Baby, wait." Jungkook laughs. "You're fucking wild."

"She is, isn't she?" Lana rolls her eyes playfully.

"Hey, at least we gave you the ride of your life." You all make your way out of the room to get a little air and step away from the post sex-smelling room. "Next time I see Namjoon, I'll let him know what you look like when you cum."

1K notes · View notes

gra-sonas · 2 years

Photo

The next episode of Roswell, New Mexico finds Liz trapped inside a mindscape — and this one has a theme: It's the Wild West! And if that's not crazy enough for you, there's more than one Liz! Behind the camera, star Michael Trevino (who plays Kyle) is bringing it all to life with his directorial debut.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: I know you've directed a short, but how long has directing been something you wanted to do? I remember you talking about shadowing directors on The Vampire Diaries.

MICHAEL TREVINO: I'm really happy you say that because yes, that is part of my journey here. Ever since Vampire Diaries, I've been shadowing and paying attention and had interest. But I made it more of a point since the pilot of Roswell, that if the show went for a few seasons, I was going to ask if I can get a shot at directing. Since the pilot, I've been shadowing Julie Plec and then all the guest directors. And luckily, I shot a short film after season 3 and proved that I was not going anywhere and that I was still just as serious. [Laughs] And finally, I think they're like, "All right, we'll give them one." And they gave me a shot here in season 4.

I mean, it was episode 409. But as far as the story line, when they're breaking story and what episode's going to be about what, no. I had no idea this was going to be what my episode was about. And I think when we got closer to the date, I was getting nudged by the writers and by Chris Hollier, our showrunner, saying, "This one's a big episode." I was like, "Are you sure you want to do that?" [Laughs] I guess they trusted me. But I'm so grateful that the writers gave me so much in this episode.

So many Roswell episodes look similar. What was your reaction to getting to do something so different?

What a gift — and also what a challenge. And so, like you do starting off, you ask for help. I leaned on my department heads and the first AD and our director of photography. But luckily, this isn't me stepping onto a set of a new show and not knowing anybody. It's a family and everybody's so supportive and has your back and wants to be there for you. And I couldn't be happier.

Did you go into this episode with a list of classic Western shots you wanted to incorporate? Where'd you look for inspiration?

I will say that my grandfather was huge into Westerns, and one of his favorite movies is The Searchers. And so I can remember months leading up to this, watching that film, because it was my grandfather's favorite movie. And just getting in that genre, just watching those movies and seeing how that feels and what that's about. I just tried to find something that was interesting. I feel like the episode plays a little playful. Because it is a mindscape, it is kind of a make-believe circumstance. And so I think we thread the line there of, okay, it is serious, but at the same time, this is kind of fun and wacky.

You also had a massive task of having your main actor play multiple characters. What was it like working with Jeanine?

Well, Jeanine is such a talented actress. She obviously has Liz down, and it was just about playing Liz in this world where now she's in a mindscape and these are all the people in her life, but they're kind of different. But I know it was very fun for her to play the outlaw Liz because it's such a departure. It's good versus evil here. And so it's the complete opposite direction of the character she usually plays. But I have to say, those were difficult days because the scenes are so heated and it's her acting opposite herself. She had a friend flying in from New York to play outlaw Liz to read lines against her because we needed to have somebody who can keep up with her and really deliver these scenes with her. She's the real MVP of the episode because to play two characters.... I mean, to be the lead of the show, working every day and you ask that person to play two characters in one episode is a huge ask. And she came through for me so prepared, so ready to go. She's just such a pro.

You also get to direct Jeanine and Shiri Appleby together. What was that like for you?

Yes. Shiri is part of the family already. She's directed two episodes for us, so we're all familiar with each other. But yeah, it was a full circle moment because I was shadowing Shiri when she did her episodes. And then her coming back now and me directing her, it's a great feeling. And I'm just so happy that she was able to make her debut in my episode. And yes, we have the two Liz's together. We have the OG Roswell veteran and we have Jeanine Mason here holding it down for us now. There are very special scenes between them and I hope that fans get a kick out of that.

The last thing I will ask you — because I have to — is what can you tell me about what's coming up with Kyle and Isobel [Lily Cowles]?

I've been waiting many, many seasons for them to finally come together and be a couple. But then to get great television, we've got to bring people together just to tear them apart. And so we're going to have a bit of that. There's going to be a lot of outside circumstances that bring these two together, as much as they pull them apart. But because this is our final season, I think we have a nice ending to both of these characters. We're not done yet. We're going to revisit this in a big way and it'll be nice. Put a nice little bow on it.

#michael trevino #rnm cast interviews #rnm spoilers #rnm 4x09 #kybel

28 notes · View notes

littlemisspascal · 4 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

Series Tag List: @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @rhiannon-russo, @maytheglitter, @eleinemk, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds, @computeringturtle, @absurdthirst, @linkpk88, @bethany2002, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @imthedoctorlove, @fishsficrecs

Permanent Tag List: @promiscuoussatan, @vintagesaph, @sylphene, @over300books, @aerynwrites, @softly-sad, @chibi-yuki, @theocatkov, @oh-no-a-whovian, @freeshavocadoooo, @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @lin-djarin, @happiestsparkleofall, @randomness501, @gallowsjoker, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @captain-jebi, @leilei-draws, @coaaster, @stilllivindue2spite, @pointy-sharp, @melobee, @artsymaddie

#din djarin x you #din x you #my fic #death and an angel #mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din x reader

300 notes · View notes

soliverse · 4 years

Text

call me a fool - k.dy

reader x bestfriend!doyoung

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: one cuss word

word count: 1.527k

synopsis: Once Doyoung calls, you're ready to drop everything to be there for him. Pity that he only sees such efforts as a friendly gesture.

inspiration:

linger by the cranberries, sway by bic runga, insensitive by jann arden

(click to listen to the songs)

networks:

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet

///

It’s been an hour since your phone rang that night.

An hour since Doyoung called you in the middle of the night to say “Can you meet me today, Y/N? I need you.”

An hour since you’ve frantically changed into your winter clothes and waited at your usual spot and sat at a bench in the middle of a freezing winter night just to wait for him.

“Hey, Y/N. Did I make you wait too long?” Doyoung said apologetically as he scratched his nape in embarrassment.”

“No. Not at all.” And then you smile. It was a smile of liar. A liar that had been in love with her bestfriend for three damn years.

He wrapped his arms around you as you walked the familiar path towards your spot. Doyoung would always ask about how your day went(even though you just told him prior to meeting him that night) and then you’d always respond, “It was fine. Nothing new. Let’s just talk about yours.”

This would trigger his toothy smile. He always loved it when someone lets him vent out and would listen to his stories enthusiastically. Moments like this expanded your vocabulary, thinking of words that are similar to “that’s cool, sounds awesome, can’t wait to see/hear it.”

And somehow, you’re just satisfied of that dynamic. You’re satisfied being that confidant, someone he can vent his feelings into and hear thoughts that he usually keeps to himself. This will go on until you reach his favorite noodle shop. As usual, it’s his treat. He would always apologize for bothering you in the first place and make it up to you by treating you with deep talks and a bowl of hot ramen.

As you sat down, you exchanged glances with the owner of the shop. You’ve been there for too many times that she didn’t even bother asking what your order is. Within minutes, you’re served with two steaming spicy ramen that she always finished off by saying “You really look good together. The prettiest couple that I’ve had in this shop.”

For some reason, the both of you never found it in you to correct the nice old lady. The thought of correcting it now might break her heart. Or yours.

You both thanked the lady for the meal and started digging down the meal.

And as per usual, you’ll ask him “Why’d you call?”

He sighs as he sets his chopsticks down for a moment before answering

“Today’s filming didn’t go so well. I needed some time to relax.” You nodded. It was a way to let him know to go on without interrupting him.

He grabbed the chopsticks and took a few bites before speaking again.

“The director didn’t like the way I did a scene earlier and it took a lot of takes before finally deciding to just postpone the scene altogether.”

“Mhm. What was the scene about?”

“Well…”

Doyoung placed his bowl down and started to recall the moment earlier.

“I told you that my role is a guy that’s been in love with his bestfriend for a long time…”

You snickered in silence as you heard him say that statement. Oh, the sweet irony of it all.

“… and then there’s the confession scene, where my character finally tells her how he feels. The director says I don’t look in love enough. Whatever that means.”

You can’t even see that I’m in love you.

The thought popped into your head, making you smile but you tried to hide it so he won’t mistake it as you making fun of him. This time, it was your turn to stop eating. You set your bowl aside and turned the stool around to face him.

“Let me see it.”

“See what?”

“Pretend I’m the female lead. Maybe I can see where the problem is.”

He sat there, surprised at the impromptu acting lessons that he’s being offered right now.

“Are you being serious right now?”

You nodded.

“Absolutely. Let’s do it while we’re the only ones here.”

His eyes are still wide, either from shock or the disbelief.

Whatever it is, he trusted you enough to submit to your request. He himself couldn’t believe that he’s about to do this scene, and in front of his bestfriend nonetheless. Doyoung poured himself a glass of water and gulped it to gather a bit of courage to do it. He turned towards your direction and then shyly smiled as your gazes met.

“Come on... Just deliver your line.” You said reassuringly and tried to contain your emotions so it won’t distract him.

He took a deep breathe before his expression completely changed. He looked a lot more serious, doing such a good job at it that you almost forgot that he’s just acting.

“Y/N-ah…”

Him saying your name is enough to make you squeal internally. It felt like your brain is malfunctioning and realized that this may not be a good idea afterall. It was too late late for that though.

His lowered his head as if he’s trying to hide his emotions. You just sat there in anticipation as he started to warm up to his role.

“Y/N-ah. Believe me when I say I tried hard. I tried to hold it back because I know you don’t see me that way...”

He takes a deep breath as he took your hand and stared at it before caressing it with care. It took him a while before he finally stares at you with a sad look in his eyes.

“Please promise me that you won’t leave me after this. I care for you too much to lose you.”

Tears are already forming in his eyes. At this point, you’re actually convinced that he’s about to snap and breakdown at that moment.

At this point, you’re starting believe that he actually liked you all this time. That you’re not the only one that feels that way.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying this because I want you to love me back. I just want you to understand why I’ve been acting this way.

He went quiet for a moment, his formed a sad smile as he stares into nothing trying to compose himself.

“I love you. I’ve been fucking in love with you all this time Y/N. But you don’t seem to notice that, can you?”

You swallowed an imaginary lump in your throat as he looked at you with literal tears in his eyes. Before you get lost in that moment even more, you laughed nervously as you took your hand away from him.

The tension in the air finally broke and he goes back to his usual self. He used his sweater to wipe off the tears in his eyes like it was nothing.

You clapped at his performance and he felt a little shy, hiding his face with his arms while you teased him about his performance. He doesn’t want to let his face show but you reminded him about that the ramen is going cold. Before you know it, you’re back to laughing at each other’s jokes and the night has came to an end. He gladly paid the bill and the both of you left the store satisfied.

And just as the routine goes, he walked with you towards the bus stop as the night comes to an end. The both you stood at a shed while you wait for the bus to arrive.

The silence once again creeps in between the two of you as you felt the withdrawals from the height of emotions that the two of you felt earlier.

It took you a while before you finally spoke up.

“I can see now what the director’s talking about. You’re missing something.”

Your voice broke the tension in the air at that moment.

“You need more… desperation.” Your heart is still pounding at this point but you tried to calm yourself out as you give him actual advice to improve himself.

“What do you mean?”

“The way that I see it, you’re afraid that the girl will leave you after the confession. It would sound more sincere if you looked more distressed. Like you would lose everything if she decided not to talk to you anymore. At least that’s what I think.”

Just then, the sound of an incoming bus came zooming in. The two of you faced each other to say goodbye.

And just like always, he pulled you in the tightest and warmest hug that you’ve gotten your whole life.

“I knew it was a good idea to call you. Thank you for keeping me company again, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You smiled widely as your push him away so as not to keep the bus from waiting.

And just like always, it took you eight steps to turn your back away from him and hopped inside the bus. At the last step, you’ll turn around for one last time to wave. That is, only to find out that he’s already walking away, back to his own world until he decides to call you again in the middle of the night to say he needs you.

///

#nctcreations #kdiarynet #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #neowritingsnet #neoculturecafe #neoswitch #nct #nct 127 #doyoung #kim doyoung #kim dongyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung fanfic #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #call me a fool #soliverse

196 notes · View notes

obeyme-kaidii-writes · 4 years

Text

Panties

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 1963

Content Warnings - lots of fluff, just a brief smidge of angst, my attempt at humor, relationships with the boys are open to interpretation

Prompt/Inspiration - none

Summary - You return home to the House of Lamentation one day to find an absolute shit show waiting for you.

AO3

As soon as you opened the door to the House of Lamentation, you could tell something wasn’t quite right. Raised voices could be heard filling the halls, but you were unable to quite make out what they were saying.

You followed the sound of the commotion to its source and were soon standing in the doorway to the library. All the brothers had gathered there and were too busy arguing to notice you.

There didn’t seem to be any sort of emergency. No one was bleeding at least.

But as your eyes scanned the room, they finally landed on a brightly colored bunch of fabric in Asmo’s hand that he was holding up for all to see.

You recognized it immediately.

It was your underwear.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You were mortified. What the hell could they possibly be discussing that involves your underwear in the middle of the afternoon?! Just as you were about to start tearing into them, you managed to catch some snippets of the conversation.

“OMG Mammon! You’re a panty snatcher! This is like a scene from an anime. I can’t believe this happens IRL.”

“I knew you were a pervert, but this is just depraved. Even for you.”

“Such a scumbag. Isn’t it enough to try and steal their things? Do you have to take their underwear too? Really?”

You shifted your attention to Mammon, who was standing at the front of the group, desperately trying to defend himself. His face was flushed, all the way down his neck. So intense was his blush, that even his tanned skin couldn’t conceal it. You don’t think you had possibly ever seen him so embarrassed as he stumbled over his words, and stuttered out excuses.

Well, this wasn’t going to do.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, and plastered a wide smile on your face. As you made your approach, Mammon was the first to notice you. He snapped his mouth shut as all the color drained from his face. It was bad enough having his brothers yell at him. But now you were here. And he was utterly screwed. His mind started racing, struggling to figure out a way to explain this to you and still maintain your relationship. Before he could say anything though, Asmo spoke up.

“Oh! There you are dear. You’ll never guess what our pervert of a brother was up to.”

“What’s up?”, you asked, playing innocent.

“We caught him with your underwear! In his pocket!”, Levi explained.

“Oh. That.”

You reached for the underwear that Asmo was holding, and unfolded it to get a good look at it, making a show out of confirming it was yours.

“I gave those to him. So what’s the problem?”

You turned to Mammon and returned the clothing to his own hand, and he quickly shoved it back into his pocket. He gaped at you, completely bewildered by what he was witnessing and unable to form a single coherent thought. You looked into his eyes and gave him a soft smile, completely different from the fake one you had on earlier. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but he felt his body relax. For now, he was just going to go with it.

When you returned your attention to the rest of the group, they were completely silent, staring at you in shock. Satan, you could tell was quickly figuring out what was going on, and had realized how badly he and his brothers had fucked up.

“It’s not like y’all haven’t taken any pairs yourself,” you said as one by one, you made eye contact with each of them before they looked away. Only Lucifer attempted to hold your gaze, and you knew that was just his pride refusing to let him look away since a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“HUH?!” Mammon sputtered out. He looked at his brothers and all of them were in various states of embarrassment, now refusing to look anywhere near him or you. He couldn’t believe this. He was used to them picking on him, but for them to be such blatant hypocrites? What. The. Hell.

Levi attempted to defend himself, “wh wh what are you talking about?”

You snapped your head in his direction, eyes laser focused on him, “Do I need to go into detail? Really Levi? Think carefully.” Your tone of voice had turned icy. Playtime was over now, and you were not in the mood to put up with their shit. If they were still going to deny it, you were going to add to their humiliation by revealing the details that you were certain they were unaware you knew.

Levi flinched and decided to keep quiet, shrinking in on himself and trying to hide behind Beel as subtly as possible. He didn’t know why or how, but he had the feeling you knew a lot more than you had said so far and he wasn’t eager to find out exactly how much that was.

“Y’all might think you’re pretty sneaky, but when 6 demons start periodically swiping individual pairs of your underwear it adds up pretty fast. At least Asmo had the decency to take me shopping occasionally, the same can’t be said for the rest of you.”

The brothers continued to stand there in silence. Satisfied that you had put an end to the shit show you had walked in on, you turned to Mammon once again, tugging at his hand, “C’mon we had stuff to do, remember?”

“Uh. Yeah. Right.” He had no idea what you were talking about honestly, but now didn’t seem like a good time to point that out to you. You continued holding his hand as you led him to your bedroom in silence. Frankly he was too scared to speak. And really, really confused. His brothers had been stealing your underwear? And you knew…? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Once safely inside your room, with the door closed behind you and your book bag discarded on the floor, you flopped down onto your bed, and let out a groan. Mammon remained by the doorway, frozen in place as his thoughts started to catch up with him. Even if his brothers were a bunch of lying hypocrites, he still had stolen your underwear. That was a fact. He had been caught red handed and there was no denying it. Not that he was even tempted to try at this point after watching you and how you handled his brothers just now.

What were you going to say to him? Should he just start begging for forgiveness now? Or should he wait for you to speak first? Would you even accept his apology? He was so disgusted with himself. I really am a scumbag, aren’t I? he thought. He was certain you were not going to want anything to do with him after this. He had violated your trust. Never before had he felt guilty about stealing something, but he honestly would have given anything to go back in time and not make the same mistake twice.

“....mmon. Mammon? You okay?”

He looked up to find you right next to him, calling his name and peering into his face with concern. Why were you still so worried about him? Even after knowing what he had done?

“S’rry,” was all he could manage, looking away again.

“Sorry? Oh about the underwear?”, you laughed and took one of his hands in your own, lacing your fingers together, “It’s fine, honest. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” He looked at you, lost and confused. Why had you been so mad then?

“No, I don’t. I only got pissed earlier because everyone was ganging up on you when they were just as guilty themselves. Well, guiltier, if I’m being honest.”

You were smiling at him, with such a gentle look in your eyes. There was no trace of the anger from earlier on your face. You were telling the truth. And as he stared at you, a thought occurred to him.

“Guiltier? Whaddya mean?”

You laughed loudly at his question, before smirking and asking him, “Do you really want to know?”

He gave you an eager nod and you pulled him to your bed, before crawling in and curling up next to him as he joined you. Usually he was the one holding you when you cuddled during movie nights, or whenever else. But today you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, and he rested his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair. With your free hand you once again reached for his and laced your fingers together.

“Well, Asmo I know has taken several pair. But like I said downstairs, he takes me shopping often and replaces them regularly. He’s probably the only reason I still have any underwear left at all.

Belphie has a couple different pairs that he keeps stashed under the pillows on his bed and in the attic. I try not to think about what he does with them while sleeping.

Beel actually doesn’t have any in his possession...but he has eaten them once or twice. To his credit, I’m pretty sure those were accidents.

Levi, poor guy, actually has a small shrine hidden in his closet behind his one for Ruri-chan. Now that was fun to discover. I’m pretty sure he’d spontaneously combust if I ever mentioned it to him directly,” you laughed at the thought of your precious otaku realizing you knew about his little homage to you. I should probably go check on him later, you thought, he was almost as sensitive as Mammon when it came to being embarrassed.

You felt Mammon laughing as well, and planted a small kiss to the top of his head before continuing.

“So that leaves Satan and Lucifer.

Satan only has one pair that he keeps hidden in a book that he stores under his mattress. I guess he figured I’d never find it there, but the hard lump is pretty obvious when you sit on his bed.

And finally, Lucifer. Dear, sweet Lucifer,” you couldn’t help but laugh as you thought about all the things he had done, unbeknownst to you as far as he was concerned, “Lucifer is the worst offender of them all. There’s a reason he hardly lets anyone into his private study.”

Mammon lifted his head to look at you, and his eyes were sparkling like he had just discovered the best kept secret, “Really? Lucy? He did that?”

You laughed again and continued, “Yeah, I made the mistake of browsing through his books in there while waiting for him once. Never again. I only bring my own books to read now.”

You resumed playing with Manmon’s hair as he settled back down, chuckling at the thought of his brother having a secret panty stash hidden within the bookshelves in his study. He’d have to check this out for himself one day. Just to verify it, ya know. Not because he wanted to steal another pair for himself or anything.

“Anyways, that’s why I’m not mad at you. You were actually the last one to take something from me, and judging by what I saw earlier, it only happened yesterday,” Mammon froze. He had forgotten about what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. And he certainly didn’t expect you to be able to tell what day he had taken them. Though, it shouldn’t have surprised him since the underwear featured a pretty distinct pattern.

“Can you do me a favor though?”

“Hmm?” Mammon hummed in response. He would do anything for you.

“Take me shopping later and help me pick out some new ones?”

#gn!mc #platonic mammon #platonic relationships #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #mammon fanfic #obey me fluff #mammon fluff

340 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 3 years

Photo

Wigging Out.

Choreographer and director Jonathan Butterell tells Gemma Gracewood about stepping behind the camera for Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, his love for Sheffield, and making sure queer history is kept alive. Richard E. Grant weighs in on tolerance and Thatcher.

Of 2021’s many conundrums, one for musical lovers is why the narratively problematic Dear Evan Hansen gets a TIFF premiere and theatrical release this month, while the joyously awaited Everybody’s Talking About Jamie went straight to Amazon Prime.

And yet, as the show’s lyrics go, life keeps you guessing, along came a blessing. There’s something about the film streaming onto young people’s home screens, with its moments of fourth-wall breaking where Jamie speaks straight to the viewer, that feels so important, given the content: a gay teen whose drag-queen destiny sits at odds with the less ambitious expectations of his working-class town.

Director and choreographer Jonathan Butterell, who also helmed the stage production (itself inspired by Jenny Popplewell’s 2011 BBC documentary, Jamie: Drag Queen at 16) agrees that the worldwide Amazon release is a very good silver lining. “I made the film for the cinema but, in 250 territories across the world, this is going to have a reach that—don’t get me wrong, cinema, cinema, cinema, collective experience, collective experience, collective experience—but it will get to people that it might not have got to before.

Jonathan Butterell on set with star Max Harwood, as Jamie.

“It feels as niche a story as you could possibly be. But also for me, I wanted it to feel like a universal story, that it didn’t matter where on any spectrum you found yourself, you could understand a young person wanting to take their place in the world freely, openly and safely.”

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, with screenplay and lyrics by Tom MacRae and songs by Dan Gillespie Sells, sits neatly among a series of very specific feel-good British films about the working class experience, such as Billy Elliot, Kinky Boots and Pride. The film adds some historical weight to the story with a new song, ‘This Was Me’, which allows Jamie’s mentor, Hugo (played by Richard E. Grant), to take us into England’s recent past—the dark days of the discriminatory Section 28 laws, at a time when the HIV/AIDS epidemic was still ravaging the community.

Hugo’s drag persona Loco Chanelle (played in the flashback by the stage musical’s original Jamie—John McCrea from Cruella and God’s Own Country), sports a wig that looks suspiciously like the Iron Lady’s unmistakable head of hair. Grant confirms that was Hugo’s intention. “His heyday was in the 1980s, so as a ‘fuck you’ to Mrs Thatcher, what better than to be dressed up like that, at six-foot-eight, with a wig that could bring down the Taj Mahal!”

Richard E. Grant as Hugo, getting to work on Jamie’s contours.

In light of the current pandemic, and the fact that the 1967 legalization of homosexuality in Britain is only “an historical blink away”, Grant’s hope is for more tolerance in the world. “Maybe Covid gives people some sense of what that was like, but with Covid there’s not the prejudice against you, whereas AIDS, for the most part in my understanding, was [seen as] a ‘gay disease’, and there were many people across the globe who thought that this was, you know, whatever god they believe in, was their way of punishing something that they thought was unacceptable.

“The message of this movie is of inclusivity, diversity, and more than ever, tolerance. My god, we could do with a dose of that right now.”

Read on for our Q&A with Jonathan Butterell about the filmic influences behind Everybody’s Talking About Jamie.

Hugo in a reverie, surrounded by his drag menagerie.

Can we talk about the new song, ‘This Was Me’, and the way you directed it in the film? It’s a show-stopper, with Richard E. Grant singing in that beautiful high register, and then moving into Holly Johnson’s singing, as you go back in time to show that deeply devastating and important history. Jonathan Butterell: It felt inevitable, the shift, and necessary. Myself, Dan Gillespie Sells, the composer, and Tom MacRae, the screenwriter, we created this piece together, the three of us, and it’s a film by the three of us. We lived through that time, we went on those marches. Actually, in one of those marches [shown in flashback], Dan’s mum—actual mum—is in a wheelchair, by a young boy who was holding a plaque saying “my mum’s a lesbian and I love her”.

That is Dan with his mum back in the day, and it all speaks to our stories and it moves me, I can see it’s moving you. It moves me because I lived through that time, and it was a complex time for a young person. It was a time that you felt you had to be empowered in order to fight, and you felt very vulnerable because of the need to fight. And because of that disease, because HIV was prevalent and we lost people—we lost close people—it was a difficult time. I wanted to make sure that that story kept being told and was passed on to the next generation.

It’s so important isn’t it, to walk into the future facing backwards? It still exists, that need to fight still exists. The conversation, yes, has moved on, has changed, but not for all people and not in all communities.

What would be your go-to movie musical song at a karaoke night? My goodness. There’d be so many.

I mean, is it going to be a Cabaret, a Chicago showstopper, or something more Mary Poppins, something from Rent? I think what I would go to, which is what I remember as a little boy, is Curly singing ‘Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’. It’s such a kind of perfect, beautiful, simple song. That, and ‘The Lonely Goatherd’, because I just want to yodel. It would be epic. Trust me.

What is the best film featuring posing and why is it Paris Is Burning? It’s always Paris Is Burning. Back in the day, I was obsessed with Paris Is Burning, I was obsessed with that world. In fact, at one moment I even met [director] Jennie Livingston in trying to make a theater piece inspired by that. I lived in New York for eleven years and I met Willi Ninja. I just adored everything about him, and he would tell me stories. And again, it was so removed from the boy from Sheffield, I mean so far. That New York ballroom scene was so removed from my world, but I got it. Those two boys at the top of the film, I just wanted to be one of those boys who just hung out outside the club.

Harwood and Butterell on set, with Lauren Patel (right) as Jamie’s bestie Pritti Pasha.

What films did you and Tom and Dan look at to get a feeling for how to present the musical numbers? Actually, a lot of pop videos, from present day to past. There’s an homage, in the black-and-white sequences, to a little ‘Vogue’ Madonna moment. Pop is very central to me in this story because pop is what a working-class kid from a working-class community will be listening to. That’s in his phone, that’s in his ears. Not that many young people listen to much radio at this moment in time, but that’s what will be on Margaret’s radio, that’s what’s coming into the kitchen. And that was central to the storytelling for me.

Bob Fosse also really influenced me, and particularly All That Jazz and where his flights of imagination take him. I felt that was so appropriate for Jamie, and again in a very, very different way, but I could see how Jamie’s imagination could spark something so fantastical that would lead him to dance, lead him to walk on the most amazing catwalk, lead into being in the most fabulous, fabulous nightclub with the most amazing creatures you’ve ever met in your life.

For me personally, the film that most inspired me was Ken Loach’s Kes, because that is my community. Both the world in which Jamie exists—Parsons Cross council estate, is my world, is my community—and the world of that young boy, finding his place in the world with his kestrel friend, I remember identifying with that boy so clearly. He was very different from me, very different. But I got him, and I felt like Ken Loach got me through him.

Ken Loach made a few films set in Sheffield, didn’t he? But also, Sheffield is a setting and an influence on The Full Monty, The History Boys, Funny Cow and that brilliant Pulp documentary. So Jamie feels like a natural successor. It absolutely does. Sheffield’s where I grew up, it’s my hometown. Although I moved away from it, I always return. To have a chance to celebrate my community, and particularly that community in Parsons Cross council estate. If you’re in Sheffield and you’re in a taxi and you said, “Take me to Parsons Cross,” they’d say, “Well, I’ll drop you there, but I’m not staying.” Because again there’s a blinkered view of that community. And I know that community to be proud, glorious and beautiful.

And yes, that community, particularly through the ’80s, really suffered because some of that community would serve the steelworks and had three generations of unemployment, so they became disenfranchised because of that. But the community I grew up in, my Auntie Joan, who lived on that road, literally on that road, was a proud, working class, glorious woman who served chips at school.

Aside from Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, what would be the most important queer British cinematic story to you? (And how do you choose between My Beautiful Laundrette and God’s Own Country?!) You can’t. My Beautiful Laundrette influenced me so much because, one, Daniel Day Lewis was extraordinary in that film, and two, because of the cross-cultural aspect of it. I went, “I know this world”, because again I grew up in that world. And it affirmed something in me, which is the power and the radicalness of who I could be and what I could be.

With God’s Own Country, when I saw that film—and that was Francis’ first film, which I thought was extraordinary for a first-time filmmaker—I knew he knew that world from the inside, from the absolute inside. And I know what that rural community was like. I read that script, because we share agents, and I was blown away by it—again, because of the two cultures coming together.

Jamie Campbell, the film’s real-life inspiration, with screen-Jamie Max Harwood.

Richard E. Grant’s character, Hugo, is such a pivotal mentor for Jamie. What did you need to hear from a mentor when you were sixteen? Don’t let yourself hold yourself back, because I think it was me who put some limitations on myself. And of course I came from a working-class community. I was a queer kid in a tough British comprehensive school. And did I experience tough times? Yes I did. And did I deal with those tough times? Yes I did. But the song that speaks to me mostly in this is ‘Wall in my Head’, in which Jamie takes some responsibility for the continuation of those thoughts, continuations of the sorts of shame, and that’s a sophisticated thing for a sixteen-year-old boy to tackle.

I also was lucky enough to have a mother like Margaret—and a dad like Margaret as well, just to be clear! And I remember my mum, at seventeen when I left home, just leaving a little note on my bed. It was quite a long letter. She said, Jonathan, you’ve probably chosen to walk a rocky path, but don’t stray from it, don’t steer away from it. That’s the path you've chosen, there may be rock-throwers along the way, but you’ll find your way through it. That stayed with me and I think that’s what resonates with me. And when I saw that documentary, Jamie: Drag Queen at 16, I felt that that sparked the need for me to tell that story.

Sarah Lancashire as Jamie’s mum, Margaret New.

We need more mums and dads like Margaret, don’t we? We do, we do. And the wonderful thing is, Margaret Campbell will say it and I think Margaret New in the film will say it: she’s not a Saint, she’s an ordinary mum. And she has to play catch up and she doesn’t understand in many ways, and she gets things wrong and she overprotects. But she comes from one place and that is a mum’s love of her child and wanting them to take their place safely in the world and to be fully and totally themselves.

Related content

Eternal Alien’s list of films Made in Sheffield

Letterboxd’s Camp Showdown

Persephon’s list of films recommended by drag queens

Passion’s list of films mentioned by Jaymes Mansfield in her Drag Herstory YouTube series

Follow Gemma on Letterboxd

‘Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’ is streaming now on Amazon Prime Video.

#everybody's talking about jamie #max harwood #john mccrae #richard e. grant #sharon horgan #jonathan butterell #musicals #drag queen #queer film #lgbtqia cinema #british cinema

18 notes · View notes

unstoppableforcce · 4 years

Text

when the dust settles

—CHAPTER ONE: in which we meet our sheriff

pairing: Din Djarin x f reader

art | next part | masterlist

a/n: a short little intro chapter before we get into the dark depth of the series, I hope you enjoy, I know my writing inspiration isn’t always consistent but I’m kinda hooked on what I have in the works for this !!

There was a storm coming.

A dry, desert storm. The worst kind of storm. It was the kind of storm that settled in his battle-worn joints, weighing heavy in his thick, scarred muscles as he clambered down off his steady steed.

The wind was slowly picking up around him as he busied his leather-covered hands with the dusty rope knotted together beside his knapsack, each gust swooping and swirling around him, whipping the dry desert sand into his side and threatening to pull his hat away from his head with each and every pass. He couldn’t stand it. The wind, the early dregs of the storm, the town, all of it.

Arvala wasn’t much of a town, but from what he could see of it as he glanced around back over his shoulder, holding his hat in place atop his head, he knew he didn’t like it.

He wanted to get his directions and be on his way before the storm had the chance to settle overhead.

Fighting through the last restraining knot from the loop of rope, he made quick work of retying a few knots to keep the towering grey horse where he stood beside the dilapidated railing of the seemingly empty building. That was yet another thing that irked him about the surrounding dusty, one-street township.

It was empty.

Spare the vague hints of movement that caught his eye through the second story surrounding windows and the occasional body he saw crossing the empty street, the town seemed nearly devoid of souls. It settled a chill in the base of his spine, a chill he couldn’t escape. Unnerving was putting it gently, disturbing was a far more accurate descriptor.

Arvala wasn’t much of a town, but he wanted out of it.

Razor bucked gently at his side, knocking his heavy head into his shoulder to drag his attention back from the desolate town around them, but all he could offer the dark steel grey steed was a soft brush against his dusty mane in response.

“I just need directions,” he mused almost silently, realizing he was speaking to the horse as much as he was reminding himself. “Just directions.”

The saloon was the only real building with any sign of life, the dull hum of vigorous conversation from inside vibrating out the chipped red painted doors and meeting his ears as he stalked further into the town. There was something comforting about that, it did little to damper the tormenting chill still haunting him at the base of his spine, but at least it was something.

Something that only got better as he got closer to the building and the noise echoing out of it.

The doors were thrown open as a lone figure emerged, gifting him a brief second to look inside, just enough to see a few tables packed with men, cards, and drinks, a combination he was certainly not looking forward to as he continued up the dusty wooden steps. He stole a glance back to his side as well, to the shrouded figure who had emerged just a second before, now knelt down beside the rickety bench with a hammer in hand, but didn’t direct any more thought that way. He just needed directions.

Directions and he’d be gone.

The voices became less like a hum and much more like a rancorous chaos the second he pushed through the dilapidated doors. He hated men that drank like this, spilling themselves out across the card-covered tables, downing drinks as fast as they could be poured. They filled towns like this, he couldn’t stand towns like this.

Moving to the counter, he did his best to pay them as much mind as he had paid the figure out front. He just needed directions. He needed directions and then he’d be gone--

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart?”

His head snapped to the friendly tone as it cut through the disgusting chuckles and belching happening behind him, finding the friendly face the words belonged to easily as she wiped down a mess from the bar top beside him. Sweet, kind eyes, an effortless drawl to her tone. How she could tolerate being stuffed in a saloon with the likes of the men behind him, he truly didn’t understand.

He cleared his throat, adjusting the black bandana to keep it taut over his nose and face. “I’m looking for direct--”

“Bull shit, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” A man shouted from behind him, the vulgar tone accompanied by a brutal slap to the hardwood table top and a clattering of glasses against each other. It was violent and aggressive and his gloved fist clenched as the cacophony of sounds interrupted him. He couldn’t stand-- no, he hated towns like this.

“Honey?” The gentle drawl drew him back. “You’re looking for what?”

“I’m looking for--”

“It is NOT bull shit, Taro, you need to shut your goddamn mouth and put your money on the table.” A second man countered, as disgusting in his aggression as the first had been, if not more so.

Against the countertop, his tight fist clenched further, his blunt nails digging deep into the worn leather around his grip. “I’m looking for--”

“Don’t tell me what to do with my money.”

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

His stubborn temper had a mind of it’s own, forcing his practiced hand to the familiar grip of his pistol and drawing it in a split second, faster than any of the men at the table behind him. The cool metal of the tip found a comfortable resting point at the back of the closest man’s head, buried in the thick head of dark hair and the men surrounding him all quickly jumped to attention even in their drunken haze, drawing their own weapons and leveling them back his way.

Four to one. There were worse odds.

“What in the stars above is your problem, man?” The words escaped the targeted man’s mouth laced with fear and confusion as his hands lifted in surrender at his side.

Glancing at all the surrounding drunken men, they wore a look similar to that tone. Frightened, disoriented, and too drunk to truly comprehend what they were witnessing in their typically mundane saloon. Good, he thought callously, it was what they deserved.

“I’m trying to ask a question.” His level voice explained as the man at the other end of his pistol began to tremble gently against the metal pressed into his skull.

The tallest of the men stood across from him, gun drawn, shrugged his shoulders in a confused aggression, “four against one and he’s trying to ask a question?”

The masked man merely pushed the pistol further into the skull of the trembling man, nodding his head forward with the forceful pressure.

“Well, go on, ask it, lord knows we ain’t gonna stop ya now.” The shaking man scrambled desperately, unable to stop his surrendered hands from shaking even as he raised them to ensure the men standing in his defense didn’t do anything stupid on his behalf.

“I need directions to the Arvala seventh, which way from here--”

This time, it wasn’t the chaos within which cut him off before he could finish a singular thought, but the sound of the doors as they opened with a careless slam. With a hammer twirling mindlessly in your hand as he turned to see you saunter in, he quickly recognized you as the figure he had paid such little attention to as he entered. But the men at the table recognized you in a different way, their shoulders falling in on themselves with a relaxed sigh of relief slipping through their lips.

He saw the shoulder holsters first. Then the badge.

“Fixed the bench out front…” An almost unnatural mixture of disappointment and exhausted cradled your tone as each of lazy words fell from your lips, dripping with both an air of confidence and layer of hesitance as you carefully eyed the scene before you. Even as you passed the hammer off to the kind barkeep, your stare stayed trained on the lone intruder in the bar, “What’s going on in here, boys?”

“Brown eyes over here is looking for the seventh.”

Disappointment and exhaustion, your entire form exuded it effortlessly as the immediate scoff tumbled from your lips. “The seventh, huh?... Guild?”

He didn’t know what to do with himself. As abrupt as his sudden draw had been, there had been a careful purpose to it, one he threw his whole heart behind in the moment, but now, with your careful stare holding on him, he didn’t know what to do with himself. His pistol was still leveled with the man’s skull, but even as the entire tone of the room shifted, you made no move to draw, no physical threat of any kind. The only movement in the whole establishment was that of the men across from him, lowering their weapons as they watched you and your trusted presence.

He didn’t know what to do.

Stealing a careful glance of his own around the room before his shrouded stare found it’s way back to you, he felt as though he had no choice left but to lower his pistol. He didn’t holster it, not yet, but he lowered it as his rough answer escaped his masked mouth.

“Yes.”

“Well…” your shoulders lifted and fell in an exhausted excuse for a shrug as you took another step closer. “This ain’t it.”

The men across the table relaxed the rest of the way as you encroached, holstering their weapons and even reaching their filthy hands towards their abandoned, unfinished drinks, again, leaving him no choice but to do the same. As he placed the cool metal back into his worn leather holster, he lifted his hands in a brief show of surrender, still incapable of gauging whether or not it was the right move.

But he had nothing else to go off of.

“Can you tell me how to get there?” He tried again, hesitant with his words as every stare in the building stayed trained on him.

Again, a rough scoff burst from your lips without any move to muffle it. “Ride, for the most part.”

“I mean--”

The kind-eyed bartender reappeared at your side, effortlessly drawing your careful attention away from him by placing a dark glass bottle into your hand before the second word of his defense could even fully slip from his lips. It looked like a transaction, the repair work for the drink, and you graciously accepted it with a nod, tipping your hat respectfully towards her before turning back to him.

Yet, even with your attention directed back towards him, as he opened his mouth again, you quickly shut it for him.

“I mean where--”

“I’m well aware of what you meant.”

The men at the table had resumed a gentle hum of conversation once guns were removed from the situation, but your words were a gavel, slamming down hard and returning the stale and dusty silence to the saloon. The dark grey clouds just outside and the violent wind knocking into the worn door were enough to signal a storm was brewing, but for a second, he convinced himself it was already there.

Staring him dead in the eye. Unwavering.

“Buy the boys a drink, apologize, and get the hell out of town.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order, plain and simple.

He froze in his boots where he stood, your harsh tone alone enough to freeze his form in a way that neither the blustering chill of the stormy wind or the darkening sky ever could. He had met plenty of sheriffs, he had passed through hundreds of towns just like this one, yet as he held your stare, he felt tense, every muscle in his body screaming, caught directly between fight and flight.

But you moved as if your words were nothing to you, as if you hadn’t just shaken him to his core with your stare alone.

Lifting the bottle in a kind salute back towards the sweet bartender, you turned towards the table and offered another careful nod their way. “Have a nice night, boys.”

“You too, sheriff.”

Effortless and exhausted, you moved for the door, nudging it open with your hip as he found just enough strength to step up and follow you. It didn’t matter though, you were already through before he made it a foot away from the table, two words falling from your tired lips as your heavy boots carried you away.

“Fucking guild...”

—

tags: @rainy-day-gracie @seasonschange-butpeopledont @nominalnebula @randomnesss501 @hoodedbirdie @littlevodika @witchyavenger @mistermiraclee @tiffdawg @trust-dreamcatcher @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @lil-baby27 @blacksquadron-rougetwo @rogueonestan

#din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #the Mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x reader #western au #sheriff meets bounty hunter #the Mandalorian #baby yoda

124 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-30 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19 ♦️ ♦️ 7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

Content Warning: This section contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some readers (mentions of abuse). Please proceed with discretion.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

NXX Base

After deciding on what to do, Marius and I rushed to the base.

Marius: Just import the surveillance footage and Hang Jiahe’s photos into the system.

MC: Okay.

I followed Marius’ instructions, entering the necessary information into the computer and started the program. On the common screen, large amounts of data started to move again. Fluorescent blue lights flashed past, casting a mottled light. Ten minutes later, the data search and comparison stopped, and the final comparative results displayed itself.

MC: Based on the results, the “Qi Yu” who started to appear at 9pm was indeed Hang Jiahe. Plus, she appeared in the surveillance 6 times in total.

Marius: Three of those times were to enter the apartment – 12pm, 8pm, and 9:45pm individually.

Marius: The other three times were to exit the apartment – 7pm, 9pm, and 10:15pm individually.

I carefully looked over the brown silhouette that appeared in the screenshots and confirmed her identity.

MC: That’s got to be Hang Jiahe.

MC: The figure that appeared at 8pm and 10:15pm is wearing the same brown trench coat as the one I saw at Hang Jiahe’s house.

MC: She even rolled up that stack of dry-cleaned clothes she’d brought back, like she didn’t want us to see.

Marius: So we can figure out what Hang Jiahe’s trail of actions were on January 28th.

Marius grabbed a random sheet of paper and started to write as he spoke.

Marius: First, Hang Jiahe returned to the apartment at 12pm. After confirming that Hang Fei and Qi Yu were home…

Marius: She entered Room 1001 using the safety route near its door and murdered the two victims.

MC: At 7pm, Hang Jiahe left the apartment and headed to the suburban villa. After, she disguised herself…

MC: And secretly re-entered Room 1001 at 8pm.

Marius: At 9pm, she disguised herself as Qi Yu, and asked the security guard downstairs to help her move the two suitcases with the bodies in them.

Marius: At 9:45pm, she carried the empty suitcases back to the apartment. The bodies probably were placed elsewhere by then.

Marius: So she had completed the illusion that “Qi Yu was still alive at 10pm”, and her alibi with it.

MC: As for her leaving at 10:15 in disguise, she probably went to dispose of the corpses and then returned to the suburban villa.

Marius: Probably.

Marius: After disposing of them, Hang Jiahe also buried the swapped hammer that she’d long prepared with them.

MC: Then Hang Fei and Qi Yu last appeared at…

I looked at the surveillance footage.

MC: 12:30pm on the 28th. Hang Jiahe had not left the apartment yet.

At this point, we had completely figured out the process of Hang Fei and Qi Yu’s murder case.

Marius: But is the evidence we have now insufficient?

MC: Yes, though the logic’s sound…

MC: We lack objective core evidence to accuse Hang Jiahe with, especially her motive and murder weapon.

MC: The opposition will easily refute a few photos and some inferences.

Marius: …It won’t be easy to solve the murder weapon issue. Hang Jiahe always wears gloves, so she wouldn’t have left fingerprints.

Marius: But for the motive… let’s wait for Captain Morgan’s analysis results on that hard drive.

Marius: If it’s as the bar boss said…

Marius had just spoken when his phone rang.

Marius: Speak of the devil – see, Captain Morgan’s calling.

Marius: Captain Morgan, is anything the matter?

Darius Morgan: We’re finished analyzing the photos and hard drive you gave us.

Marius: What are the results?

Darius Morgan: They match with what the bar boss said.

Darius Morgan: There are many videos of Hang Fei’s child abuse, as well as domestic violence against Qi Yu, in the hard drive.

Darius Morgan: But based on the people featured in the photos, we are missing the videos that feature the child that appeared the most.

MC: (Hang Jiahe must have bought the videos of her abuse…)

Marius: Have the identities of the other children in the photos been confirmed?

Darius Morgan: Aside from Hang Jiahe, the children in the photos are not from Stellis.

Darius Morgan: Hang Fei and Qi Yu traveled overseas, so these children just might be from those countries.

MC: (It’s a transnational case now?)

Darius Morgan: How are things on your end?

MC: We’ve figured out how Hang Jiahe got the fingerprints on the murder weapon and how she created her alibi, but…

Marius: We lack direct evidence.

Darius Morgan: What about the video she took away? That evidence should be convincing enough.

Marius: But the question is, where is that video right now?

MC: The boss said before that he advised Hang Jiahe to not destroy those videos for now…

MC: Undestroyed… but can’t be found by the police…

MC: Can’t be found… so they should be hidden… hidden…

I had a flash of inspiration.

MC: “Liqing Bank”!

I thought of that useless-looking membership card in Hang Jiahe’s house.

Both Darius and us headed out at the same time towards the Liqing Bank in the suburbs, but due to distance, we arrived before Yan Wei. Marius used his own connections to find the manager to ask about Hang Jiahe. The manager admitted that Hang Jiahe had opened an account here and kept things here, but he refused to tell us which was her vault.

Vault Room

Manager: My apologies, but our rules state that unless if our client asks or the police issue a search warrant…

Manager: We cannot allow any others to open the safes.

MC: This…

Marius: We were just in contact with the police in front of you, and he said that he would be bringing a search warrant over immediately.

Marius: Even with that, you can’t let us see Hang Jiahe’s vault?

Manager: My apologies, but we must see the documents first, per our rules.

Marius: …

The male manager looked calmly at Marius.

MC: Then we…

I was about to speak when Marius tugged at me.

Marius: If so, we won’t trouble you anymore. When the police arrive, we’ll come again.

Marius then tugged me to leave, walking out without looking back once. However, we’d just turned past aa row of shelves when he suddenly tightened his grasp on my wrist and took me into the shadows of another row of cabinets.

MC: Marius, what are you doing?!

Marius: Shh, quieter. Don’t let the manager know that we haven’t left.

I took a deep breath and lowered my voice.

MC: What are you trying to do?

Marius: Of course, I’m trying to find Hang Jiahe’s vault.

Marius: Since he won’t show us openly, we can only wait for it in secret.

MC: Are you aiming to open the vault secretly?

Marius: Of course not. Opening vaults in banks like this is usually a complicated procedure.

Marius: Some need two keys, some need biological info… all in all, without the owner, they’re very hard to open.

MC: Then you want to…

Marius: I want to follow the vault.

MC: ???

Marius: Based on how this bank’s operating guidelines, that manager is sure to contact Hang Jiahe that people came for her box.

Marius: And with how cautious Hang Jiahe is, she’s sure to come get what’s in the vault herself.

Marius: I’ve calculated the timing – Hang Jiahe’s place is closer to here than the police station is. Even if she receives the alert and heads out only now…

Marius: She might get here earlier than Captain Morgan.

Marius: To prevent the evidence from getting taken, I decided…

Marius took out his phone and opened up the screen for Darius’ shared location.

Marius: Before Captain Morgan comes, we’ll follow the manager secretly and prevent him from taking Hang Jiahe’s box away.

MC: Can we really?

Marius: Of course, why not? Nothing will happen.

Marius: Jiejie, just trust me this once. If anything happens, I’ll just apologize to them.

MC: Then… alright. If anything does happen, I’ll go with you.

MC: What do you plan to do?

Marius: Look around first.

I looked around, per his instructions. Liqing Bank’s vault room was very large, and there were many vaults in it. Above the room, at set intervals, there was a full-scene camera rotating nonstop to monitor the whole room. Aside from that, there were also bodyguards on patrol in the vault room to prevent suspicious persons from moving about.

MC: There are a lot of bodyguards and surveillance cameras. How are we supposed to follow him?

Marius: Don’t worry, just listen to me.

Marius: I just observed that the patrolling bodyguards will pass by the same place around every 5 minutes.

Marius: As for the full-scene cameras above, I can’t tell if there are any blind spots for now.

Marius: But we’re luckily wearing dark clothes today, and it’s dark here.

Marius: We’ll just stick to the walls where the light doesn’t reach – maybe we’ll get by.

MC: Why do I feel like we’re acting in a spy movie…

MC: Then how should we move? We’re pretty far from the manager right now…

Marius: See that old table in front?

Marius pointed at a table that was around several tens of metres away from us and stacked with random items.

Marius: That table’s in a pretty subtle spot. People outside can’t see in, but we should be able to see out from inside.

Marius: When the nearby guards move away, we’ll head under that table.

Marius: On my count – when I say 1, we’ll move.

MC: Okay.

I took a deep breath, focusing my attention on the table.

Marius: The guard’s almost about to leave.

Marius: 3 – 2 – 1, go!

I held my breath and rushed to the corner.

MC: Huff – huff –

I supported myself against the table, suppressing my sounds as I gasped.

Marius: A-are you alright?

Marius’ breath was also somewhat short, probably thanks to our nervous moods.

MC: I’m alright. You?

I turned around to look at Marius, but the scene before me stole my breath away in the next second.

Marius was awkwardly crouching under the table, and the height that he was usually so proud of had become a sort of sweet “burden”. Maybe because the air circulation was bad, or maybe because the crouching pose was tiring him, but his face was somewhat red. Under his opened collar, there were small drops of sweat rolling down his fair neck. He breathed lightly, and each of his movements and breathing sounds became unusually heavy in this tiny space.

MC: …

Marius: Hm? What are you looking at me for? Is there something on my face?

MC: T-there isn’t…

Marius: Then… did you get fazed from staring at me?

Marius: Though I do like it when you stare at me, since we’re this close…

Marius: Even I’d get embarrassed.

MC: This close…

MC: !!!

My rationality returned, and I belatedly realized just close we were.

MC: S-sorry, it wasn’t on purpose, I was just…

I apologized as I attempted to pull away from him, but I hadn’t moved much when Marius suddenly pulled me back.

Marius: Don’t move. If you keep pushing, you’ll bump into the table.

Marius: This space is tiny – best not to move at random.

MC: …

I could only stiffen my body and not move in the slightest. The tiny space sunk into silence again, and I could clearly feel Marius’ gaze on me, never shifting away. And my heartbeat became more and more intense, along with this gaze.

MC: W-why do you keep staring at me…

Marius: I’m just thinking that right now…

Marius: Your heartbeat and your breaths only belong to me.

Marius: It’s great…

MC: …

Marius: But this is too little. It’s not enough compared to what I want…

MC: !!!

MC: M-Marius, you…

Marius: Oh well, now isn’t the time.

Marius sighed quietly and shifted his gaze away.

I tried my best to calm my heartbeat and refocus my attention. Simultaneously, the manager, who’d been lingering in some shelf row for a while, finally moved.

Manager: Hello, Liqing Bank. Is this Miss Hang?

Marius and I exchanged a glance.

Manager: Two people just came to see the contents of your vault.

Manager: Yes, a man and a woman, and the woman was a lawyer.

Manager: Don’t worry, I did not allow them to open your vault.

Manager: You want me to take a video for your confirmation?

The male manager spoke as he strode to a shelf in the corner, then used his phone to take a photo.

Manager: Look, it’s been well taken care of – no one has opened it.

Manager: Alright, I will send it to the back door for you.

The manager hung up and pressed a button on the side of the safe. After a small electronic startup sound, Hang Jiahe’s vault suddenly disappeared. The manager walked to an elevator on the side.

MC: Where’s the vault?

When the manager had completely left on the elevator, Marius and I carefully got near the vault shelf.

Marius: Don’t worry, it’s been sent elsewhere – should be the back door.

Marius: Let’s follow.

MC: Sure.

Following behind the manager, we boarded the other elevator beside the vault shelf.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

MC: How did we end up in another warehouse?

Marius: …

Marius: Follow the manager first. If anything else unexpected happens, we withdraw immediately.

MC: Okay.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

Marius: Where’s the manager?

MC: In front!

MC: We’ve already been following him for over half an hour…

Marius: Is the back door of Liqing Bank that far? We’ve got to get through a warehouse and then a basement…

MC: Marius, could he be leading us in circles?

Marius: …

Marius: … But Captain Morgan’s almost here, and Hang Jiahe’s been held back by him too.

Marius: We can’t just give up here.

MC: Then let’s keep following. If things don’t change, we’ll give up.

Marius: Okay.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

The manager finally stopped at the back door of the bank warehouse.

MC: Why isn’t he walking anymore?

Marius: …

Marius: This is bad, let’s go back…

Manager: The two of you, stop hiding. Come out.

MC: …

Marius: …

We could only walk up to the manager.

Manager: CEO von Hagen, what are you trying to do here?

Marius: Didn’t I tell you my request before?

Manager: Then I’ll have to reject you once more. No…

Marius: Wait.

Marius looked behind the manager and suddenly laughed.

Marius: This time, you can’t refuse.

Manager: Wh…

Darius Morgan: City Criminal Investigation Police Brigade, Captain Darius Morgan. Please cooperate with our investigation.

Darius Morgan: This is the search warrant.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #tot translations #lu jinghe #marius von hagen #未定事件簿 #i kinda feel like this whole section could've been avoided #if only they'd been a little more patient lmfao

16 notes · View notes

nuttytani · 3 years

Text

The flying cat & the baker

summary: you are a sorcerer who owns a bakery in new york. one day, steve discovers your abilities when he walks in on your cat flying inside the shop on a broom.

fandom: marvel

pairing: steve rogers x gn!reader

warnings: lots of mentions of baked goods and the word "horny" just once (it's not nsfw, trust me)

a/n- heya! another fic~ this was inspired by girl in red's "fell in love in october". i know it's extremely off season but yeet i dont care + my dear friend @lorei-writes / @mllorei beta read this! *gives hug to lorey* thank you so much ;-; lorey. ps: this is a non-avengers!au

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Steve to get lost in the sea of New York streets, walking along the cobblestone paths, breathing in the scent of baked goods, spice and fresh flowers. After all, it was his most favourite part of his daily routine, discovering a new place or two. He took his time looking around the nearly empty street, for it was too early for anyone to be awake except for the store owners. They were all busy preparing their shops for opening to notice his presence.

Steve looked up for a moment, noticing the light of dawn setting upon the sky, sending small beams of yellow light like blessings cast by angels. His low breathing felt warm against his chapped and cold lips. With a silent sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pea coat as he resumed strolling without a set direction in mind, eyeing the buildings- the chipped off parget, showing the reds and browns of the brick underneath while moss and vines covered most of the bottom half.

They all turned into a blur once he stood by a jade coloured bakery, the sign reading “magicae et pistoria”, a silhouette of a black cat on a broom just underneath it. He stared curiously at the displayed varieties of pastries and bread, wondering if he should buy a few- would Sam and Nat like to eat them?

With hesitant fingers, he grasped the door handle and entered, instantly greeted by the bell. Barely a few seconds passed, and Steve felt immensely at ease. His body appreciated the warm cocoon provided by the bakery- in contrast to the weather outside. The interior was rustic, with brick walls and wooden fixtures. His feet lead him magnetically towards the delicacies contained in the arched display, varieties of cakes, pastries and bread placed temptingly- he didn’t know which one to pick.

“Hello! Good morning, how may I help you, sir?” A voice pulled Steve out of his reverie.

Steve looked up to see you, your hair a mess, dust covering the black apron and your forehead, a cute smile adorning your face. You looked like an ethereal being- an angel perhaps, standing before him. Somehow, a breath got stuck in his throat, and his heart started to beat rapidly. He could hear it getting louder and louder. His clothes felt too tight, and he suddenly felt suffocated.

“Sir? How may I help you?” you said again.

Steve cleared his throat, embarrassed with himself for staring at you for much longer than necessary. He muttered an apology under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to hear.

“It’s alright, sir, happens all the time. I’ve experienced many people just gawking at the pastries and not knowing what to pick, it’s understandable! I’d be confused too,” you confessed to him.

“Right, of course, glad I’m not the only one or that would’ve been embarrassing,” Steve laughed, trying to bury his awkwardness.

Only if you knew the truth, he’d personally dig his own grave and jump into it.

Steve accepted your help instead of going down the rabbit hole of confusion. You helped him to pick out a few baked goodies- which were a rage amongst your regular customers; a chocolate mousse, Japanese cheesecake and a few vanilla custard doughnuts.

“Thank you! Have a good day,” you said, as the blonde man left the store with a wave.

“Damn, I hope I didn’t look too nervous,” wiping your sweaty palms on your apron, you heaved a sigh of relief.

You usually didn't open the bakery on the weekends, but some things needed to be done, which required your presence. You were sure that no one would come along so early in the morning but were proven wrong. Although it was your fault to leave the open sign hanging, you didn't mind the blonde-haired man and maybe thought he was kinda cute.

You flipped the sign to “closed” while locking the door from inside, as to make sure no one could come in. You moved back to the counter and caught a hand wrapping around a glass jar.

You cleared your throat and glared at the man in question.

“What do you think you’re doing mister.” You folded your arms and glared at the brunette.

“What does it look like? I’m trying to eat some cookies, obviously. You should get your eyes checked if you can’t see things clearly boss,” Rajeev replied and swiftly turned to look at you.

The brunette shrunk and transformed into a black cat, looking at you with bright doe hazel eyes while purring deeply. You groaned and picked him up, placing him on your shoulder.

“There’ll be consequences if you transform like that out of nowhere, and your sister is going to kill me because you haven't been careful. So, if you don’t want me to be skinned alive and thrown into a cauldron to be boiled, stop doing that here.” Truly, nothing scared you more than Rajeev’s elder sister- she was overprotective and intimidating, you wished to never be on her blacklist.

Rajeev only meowed back at you, which frustrated you further. You hoped that he at least understood where your concerns were coming from.

“Come on, we’ve got a lot of organising to do! New stock arrived today, we don’t want cranky sorcerers waiting for us,” you said while muttering a spell and opening a red portal to an apothecary.

By the time Steve returned home, his friends were all awake and wandering about the kitchen like zombies. They all knew about Steve’s early morning walks and didn't question him but were curious as to why he came back so late.

Sam immediately rummaged through the bakery boxes when Steve placed them on the island counter.

“So...what took you so much time, hmm?” asked Sam. “Thought you just went to get some bread, dude.” He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a box, ooh-ing delightedly once he got hold of a doughnut.

“I bet it was some grandma asking for directions,” Bucky yawned, still half-asleep as he took a seat on the chair.

Natasha stole the doughnut from Sam and promptly turned to face Steve, who lay on the couch.

“Maybe, he has a secret lover! Oh Stevie, how could you hide this from us?” she said teasingly while licking away at her sugary fingertips.

Sam was distressed by her stealing and guarded the boxes with his arms, grumbling something about him not having enough coffee for this.

“Can you guys just stop- I just went to a bakery and got stuff, nothing more, nothing less!” Steve raised his voice.

All of them just shrugged.

Nat broke the silence, “Okay...But did you see any cuties?”

“NO- I mean... yes, kinda… I mean- Stop asking me these questions!” groaning with embarrassment, Steve covered his face with his palms.

Steve started frequenting “magicae et pistoria” since then to the point he became a regular customer. Not because he wanted to see your dazzling smile or anything, but because the service and baked goods were really good and his friends wanted more of that deliciousness. He became quite close to you as a result, somedays he just dropped by to say hi and spend some time with you.

Occasionally, Sam or Bucky would tag along to his trips. Even though Steve would deny it, they could clearly see he had a crush on the baker- it was obvious by their playful banter and flushed faces. They’d often tease him about it, but Steve being Steve, would just grump away and aggressively change the subject.

Another weekend rolled in, Steve was headed to the bakery as usual. It became a part of his routine to visit it during his morning walks. You, on the other hand, arrived late to the bakery and were rushing to get the place running in no time. It was just you and Rajeev today since your other employees didn't work on the weekends- it was tough but both of you managed.

While you were busy running around the place, Rajeev was playing around in his cat form, saying you didn’t really need him until later. He levitated the spare broom in the air and jumped on it, trying to balance his paws on the handle. Like a child with no care, he flew the broom back and forth across the room with an evil cat smile.

The two of you were unaware of Steve’s presence until he spoke in a startled voice.

“Why is the cat flying on a broom- what is this!”

Everything happened in a flash, Rajeev fell off the broom with a pathetic meow and you dropped your utensils on the floor. Flour and batter splattering on your shoes and creating a mess. Your scream resonating from the kitchen.

Steve’s jaw was slack with shock, his body frozen where he stood. Should he run away? Should he go and check if you’re alright? He wasn’t sure what to do, he didn't even know if what he saw was even real.

The cat was definitely real, as it stood up and rubbed its bum with its paws. How was that possible- Did he even want to know? Was he dreaming? Maybe he is still half asleep and is seeing things.

Steve grabbed a nearby stool and flopped on it, his knees were weak from shock and needed rest. His mind was still processing the situation

You came rushing from the kitchen to the scene, the mess you created all trivial compared to what had just happened right now. You didn't know what to do at this moment, should you tell the truth? Or deny everything-

“What is that thing,” Steve finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“A cat,” you replied as a matter of factly.

“You keep a flying cat?”

You just stared at Steve with a straight face and said, “Well...firstly he’s not mine and secondly he’s not an actual cat.”

As if showing a demonstration, Rajeev transformed back into his human form, which baffled Steve further.

“What are you?” the blonde asked in confusion.

“We’re sorcerers...I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to know about it, at least not in this way,” you sighed, gently placing a hand over Steve’s knee.

“But boss- we’re busted, now that he knows we gotta turn him into a toad!” Rajeev exclaimed.

“A WHAT NOW?!” Steve looked back at you with raised brows.

“We’re not turning you into anything! He’s just joking- Rajeev! Apologise to him”

The brunette sulkily grumbled an apology. He excused himself to the kitchen to clean up the mess you had made while you took a seat next to Steve.

“Are you alright? Want some water?”

“No thanks, I’m fine. Just...really really shocked- I can’t believe this is real.”

With a flick of your hand, you made two barstools twirl in the air.

“Okay- definitely real,” Steve chuckled.

Extra (few months have passed)

Steve sat on the armchair with you sprawled on his lap, tapping away at your phone while Sam, Nat and Bucky sat on the floor watching another episode of “the Bridgerton” on T.V.

“Damn kids these days be really horny huh?”

“Shh just watch the show!”

+ "-if you enjoyed reading this fic, don't forget to give a like and reblog! feedback is always appreciated

a/n-if you enjoyed reading this fic, don't forget to give a like and reblog! feedback is always appreciated + join my taglist here

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #marvel #mcu #tani writes!!

35 notes · View notes

ddagent · 4 years

Note

Inspired by the Sandman casting news, God of Love Jaime and Goddess of the Underworld, the Dead, and the Forgotten Brienne.

I was hoping to write some God of Love Jaime today; this is actually super weird but I hope you enjoy it!

“There you are.” Brienne looked up from the open chest cavity of one Jeyne Snow and found Margaery Tyrell staring at her from the open doorway. “We were going to catch a double feature at the cinema. Want to join us?”

Brienne blinked. “Sure. Just let me finish up.”

Margaery gave Brienne a thousand-watt grin and headed back out into the corridor. She would be with the other doctors in their little group: Sansa, Ygritte, and Tysha. They were all doctors above ground: plastic surgery, gynaecology, trauma, paediatrics. They all did their best to help the living while Brienne remained down here, in the basement, with the dead. While the others squealed and blanched over the prospect of spending day in, day out with corpses, Brienne had no such qualms. After all, she was the Goddess of the Underworld, Patron of the Dead and Forgotten.

The Stranger.

Placing a pouch of salt and herbs beside Jeyne’s form, Brienne ensured she was stowed properly before showing and dressing for an evening out with her...she was loathe to say friends. In the rare occasions she had taken human form, Brienne had never grown close to anyone. It was easier in the Age of Dragons, where she could drift from town to town along the King’s Road; giving burial rites to those who needed it and enacting justice to those who deserved it. But times had changed. People sought out connection more than ever before.

And now, Brienne supposed, she had people who sought her out.

Sansa linked her arm with Brienne’s as they left King’s Landing General Hospital and headed for a multiplex a few streets down. From here she could see the bright lights and long lines; a large poster with a shirtless man dominating the scene. As they grew closer, Brienne realised who it was. Jaime Lannister, rom-com heartthrob who took off his shirt at least seven times within ninety minutes. The girls ogled the poster and the prospect of the double feature.

Brienne just stared; the eyes on the poster following her as she moved to join the back of the line.

“He is so pretty,” Margaery said, letting out a deep sigh at the thought of Jaime Lannister. “You know, I met him on a plane once. His eyes are just...inhuman.” Maybe because he’s not human. “I would give every dragon in my trust fund to sleep with him.”

“Or just to touch his hair. Do you think those are his real muscles?” Sansa, the youngest of the group, swooned. “How high do you think he could lift me?”

The girls chattered on – Ygritte often throwing out negative comments to stir the pot – as they bought their tickets and headed inside. The cinema foyer was packed with single women looking to stare at Ice and Fire magazine’s regular heartthrob of the month, as well as couples hoping that a romantic comedy would be the perfect entertainment on Maiden’s Day. His day. As Brienne walked along to the screening room, film posters of his various features – Oathkeeper, The Last Knight, The Things We Do For Love – stared back at her. One even had the audacity to wink as she walked past.

“I’m not feeling too well,” Brienne uttered before they had even entered the screen. “I think I’ll just head home.”

But Margaery encircled her wrist and dragged her inside. “No, you don’t. I know you’ve had a bad spell of romance, but a Jaime Lannister movie marathon is just the thing to cheer you up!”

Sansa squeezed Brienne’s hand. “Marge is right. Forget about Hyle and Ben and the others. They’re not worth your time. Just sit back and enjoy the gorgeousness that is Jaime Lannister.”

A woman sitting behind them patted Brienne’s shoulder. “Believe me, it’s just nice to enjoy the fantasy. After all, there’s no men like him!”

A few others around them tittered; the line clearly from one of his movies. Brienne had heard it before, from his very own lips. It was something he was fond of saying and had earned a cane to the back of the ankles from the Crone. Brienne was loathed to stay; the crackle of energy in the room disquieting. But it would seem suspicious if she were to just up and leave. After all, to them she was Brienne Tarth, a medical examiner who had been the centre of a bet by a group of surgeons. Her friends had tried to comfort her, tried to get her to open up; share her feelings.

The problem is that Brienne didn’t feel.

“I dreamed of you.”

A sigh went round the room at the opening scene of The Last Knight. Jaime Lannister, dressed in a crimson tunic, stared longingly at the woman he had just rescued from a bearpit. While the rest of the cinemagoers watched the film, Brienne grew more and more uncomfortable. All the hair on her arms stood up; goose flesh covering her skin. When she looked back at the screen, Jaime Lannister was staring directly at the camera. At her.

“I thought you’d never come to one of these things. You told me I was a fool for acting.” Brienne frowned. She turned to Sansa, who was mouthing different words. “They can’t see me. Can’t hear me.”

“Jaime.”

Upon the large screen, the God of Love walked around the screen ambivalent to the plot and direction and the actual movie that was shot. He lounged in an armchair, picking lint off his shoulder, before offering her a shit-eating grin. “I can’t believe you’re here. Watching me. I’m touched, Brienne.”

“I was dragged here.”

“Against your will?” The image on screen shook his head. “I don’t think so. You are the Goddess of the Dead. Nothing ever happens without your say so.”

“Including using our powers in the land of the living. Or have you forgotten what happened last time?”

The Jaime on screen waved a hand in her direction. The scene changed on screen to the King’s Road but Jaime remained. He peered out at the multiplex. “Building a cinema on the grounds of an old sept. Bad form. Holy ground doesn’t change, Brienne: you know that.”

She did. Everything upon the soil was fair game. They could be their godly selves within these four walls. As Jaime proved as he stepped out of the screen. Pulled apart the layer between reality and fantasy; his costume from The Last Knight fading and replaced by a simple white shirt and slacks. Around her, the room came to a sudden stop. Fallen popcorn hovered in mid-air; conversations fell into nothingness. The whole world had stopped for them.

Jaime held out his hand. She stared at it, confused. “Why did you come here?”

He shrugged. “I dreamed of you.”

She scoffed; the line from the film ringing in her ears. “We don’t dream.”

“Sometimes I do. They are always of you.”

“I don’t...I don’t feel, Jaime.” She had told him that the last time they had met, in the ruins of Harrenhal with rain hovering in the sky. “I can’t feel for you like I—like I want to.”

His smile was soft; his eyes warm with adoration. “You forget, I can feel everything. And I can feel you. Trust me.”

Her hand slid into his and she was brought up from her seat. Brienne suddenly recalled when she’d offered him a hand; when he, full of love and innocence, had taken a life while in human form. She had been the only god who had not turned away. Brienne had held him and protected him and together they had slain the men who had wanted to bring fire and destruction upon this very city.

“I loved you then,” he whispered, as if able to read her thoughts. “You loved me, too. Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. Lifting on his toes, Jaime brushed his lips against hers. Her first kiss. Soft and gentle; his mouth tasting sweet and tart like the red berries she had watched him devour in the Seven Heavens. Brienne chased that taste as her hands found purchase on his shoulders; as his arms tightened around her waist. After a moment, Jaime pulled away to take a deep breath. He then kissed her hand and walked towards the silver screen.

She followed.

#Anonymous #braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts

54 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

heiress - 5

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: more parallels between wanda and reader plus hayward being a bitch to reader. also pierce did not die during the winter soldier events in this universe. at this point this is called wanda and y/n collectively grieving over her how shitty their lives are.

previous chapter

The young woman held a small gun in her left hand, shooting the target at least 10 metres away from her with a mechanical precision, switching it to her right hand and achieving the same type of perfection and precision not even senior agents had. Yet, there she was, one of the newest SWORD recruits. Many people had opposed for her to join SWORD straight after escaping from HYDRA and the Red Room; however, Tyler Hayward had forced for her to become a new recruit. “Having Alexander Pierce’s daughter in our team will be an asset” he said and it somehow convinced all of SWORDs panel to take her in. She had nowhere to go after all, the Red Room will be after her in no time and she had no way to defend herself alone and so SWORD was her only option. An option she thrived under, being much more advanced than any junior recruit yet it was a far cry from what she wanted. She didn’t want to be an agent but that’s what she was, what she had been trained to do.

The trainer slowly blinked walking up to her and giving her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder which everyone could sense was filled of jealousy. She was thrown to the back of the line with someone else who also inspired jealousy in most recruits. Monica Rambeau, daughter of Maria Rambeau, the current SWORD director. They had never spoken too much other than orientation day where they introduced each other by their agent number.

- That was the coolest thing I’ve seen today. - she hide a childish smile as the next recruit started his training. - I’m Monica.

- Y/N. - she smiled and shook her hand. - Is it always like this?

- Most of time yeah. The trainers are dicks about it when you’re better than them.

- Men. - Y/N rolled her eyes, getting an understanding nod from Monica.

- Excuse me? - Tyler Hayward entered the trainee room, always dressed in a polished suit as if that would be of any worth in a fighting situation. - I’m sorry for disturbing but I need Ms. Y/N Pierce to accompany me.

Y/N Pierce. She always hated that name, even more than her code name. The mere thought that she had that last name, the name of one of the leaders of SHIELD was almost like a cruel curse on her. Everyone seemed to think of him as this all around saint yet she knew better; after all, if he had no reservations about submitting his daughter as a project and asset then he would have no reservation in hurting anyone else. SWORD had done their best to keep her existence a secret, not really allowing the connection to pass through but she knew he was looking for her and if he wasn’t the Red Room and HYDRA definitely were.

She shared a confused look with Monica before stepping towards Hayward who led her away from the room and into the hall. He didn’t stop to explain to her why she had been summoned, instead he just kept on walking and she took the lead to follow him, entering a blackened window filled hall. They stopped in front of a window which gave way into an autopsy scene. Y/N was used to seeing death, some would say she was born surrounding it; however, she was not prepared to see what was being shown to her. It was almost as if she were sleeping, her mother. Laid across the metal table with various doctors surrounding her, the HYDRA symbol branded onto her foot. She looked over to the side, hand over her mouth as she felt sick just to see it.

- Our intelligence believes HYDRA is trying to send a message and we don’t believe they won’t stop anytime soon.

- Was it fast? Did she suffer?

- Gunshot to the head. Quite merciful, really.

- Why are you showing me this?

- Well, HYDRA experimented on you but there is the possibility your “enhancements” might be genetic.

- What is that supposed to mean? Why did you really brought me here, Hayward?

- We need the next of kin’s permission to perform an autopsy and it seems that would be you, following your mother’s will.

- No. - she stepped back. - You’re not gonna tear my mother apart for a stupid hypothesis. No. You don’t have my permission

- We’re being kind enough to hide you from your father for no specific reason. You either accept it or we’ll be forced to hand you to SHIELD.

The night air was crisp and sharp as he sat on the swing next to hers. She hadn’t changed much other than her hair which was much longer but her face was still unblemished by the tragic unkindness of the world. After all it had been about 5 years since he last saw her and he hated the fact he had forgotten her. Somewhere, deep within himself he knew her mark was still there; he could still hear her voice in his dreams but he always chucked it to his mind crumbling under the pressure it had been under for so many years. Nevertheless, he had heard her voice plenty times, specially in Bucharest. It had haunted him from nights and nights on end; “Promise?” “Yes”, turns out it wasn’t someone he had killed but someone he had forgotten. Her of all people. It had come back all to him after that woman gave him the file. Her name alone, her lips telling him her name. He remember telling himself he would not forget him as they prepared him to go back in the blender and he did. He forgot about her but looking at her everything came back to him; the good and the bad. But the most of it was he remembered loving her, he still did, a feeling that had been dormant for a long while and suddenly awoke in him. Of course Bucky did not expect her to love him back, he didn’t blame her either. She was a good kid, too good even.

- Uhm ... are you enjoying it here? - she motioned her hands abstractly. - In the hex, I mean.

- It’s better than in hideouts with Sam and Sharon. - he chuckled dryly, looking up at the transparent yet red tinted dome. - I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Sam is great, despite everything and Sharon ... Sharon has helped me so much, I owe her that.

- Oh ... - her heart dropped to her stomach as an ugly feeling took over her. Sure, Wanda would say it’s jealousy but she refused to admit it.

- What about you? I never really asked what you did after ... you know, IT.

- You can say the name. - she smiled at him yet it was voidless of any emotion, as if she were used to people tip toeing around the subject which they always did. - I became a junior recruit for SWORD until the blip then ... I was gone for a while but it didn’t hurt. It was almost like I was finally at peace and then I woke up and Hayward was director. He sent me and Monica to investigate the hex Wanda created, mostly to keep his own project a bay. Then we all ran off, got classified as fugitives. The rest is really not important.

- I don’t really think I need to tell you what I’ve been up to.

- You don’t ... most of it it’s my fault, anyway. - she got up from the swing once she noticed a purple light a few miles away from the limits of the hex. The back of her eyes started growing instinctively white. Bucky got up as he recognised her fighting stance, a hand safely placed upon her shoulder. - Go grab Wanda.

- Y/N ...

- Go grab her, now. - she stood there watching the purple light almost call out for her. Bucky chose to do what she said, the white mist involving around her fingers as she stepped towards the hex, fingers barely touching the wall.

Bucky rushed inside the building, hoping to reach Wanda before Y/N could do anything irrational. However, before he could find the newly named Scarlet Witch, she found him with one of her twins behind her waist. Her eyes were glowing red, almost similar to those Y/N had except those eyes looked desperate, worried even.

- Where is she? - she asked him with an ice like directness. - Where is she, Barnes?

- Outside. She told me to come get you.

Wanda rushed past him with a speed that he had never seen before and he only followed after her. The two stepped outside the building, towards the swing tree where Bucky had left Y/N, except, she wasn’t there anymore. No, he couldn’t lose her. Not again. Vision came after the two followed by Yelena and Monica who had been awakened by the twins; however, Wanda did not need their help. She approached the hex, just missing the purple glow as it entered the woods. Bucky tried to step up but Vision pushed him back.

- Y/N? - Wanda broke through the hex, shutting Bucky out as well as Vision. It was night time, dark and cold surrounded by the woods of the place they had chosen to hide from the world. Breaking dawn was so far away and even the tallest individual would’ve melted into the dark night. - Y/N!

- Are we not going to help them? - Bucky questioned back inside the hex, probably the most awake apart from the synthezoid and the former Red Room graduate.

- It’s a witch thing. - Yelena smirked before springing into action. - We should activate the hex’s protective system in case something happens.

- What about them? - Bucky once again interrupted, not receiving particularly kind looks from Yelena.

- They’ll be fine, Mr. Barnes.

Y/N on the other hand walked further into the confused and dark woods, holding her small trusted silver revolver which reflected the moon light onto its surface; yet most of the light came from behind her coloured eyes. She did not know exactly why they did that, it was almost as if they light up whenever she felt threatened. Whatever it was, it was there inside of her. She, of course, knew it was Agatha lingering around; however, she never got dangerously close to the hex. It was an unspoken truth between the witch and Wanda Maximoff yet there she was.

- God, dear, I thought I’d have to break into the hex to get to you. - Agatha showed up from the darkness, dressed in her typical black and purple palette as if she were royalty. - So, how are you deary? Still playing Queen Elsa? Is that fun for you?

- You’re trespassing.

- Come on, is that how you thank me for giving you Bucky Barnes on a platter? What else do you need to thank me? A love spell?

- Go away, Agatha. What do you want?

- I am trying to help you, just like I helped Wanda. I mean how old are you, sweetheart? Old enough for HYDRA and SWORD to realise you can do much more than just magic tricks. Making a whole room objects disappear? Now that, that was impressive. If I knew you were gonna do that, I would’ve brought Barnes into your life much much sooner. - she crossed her arms. - I think you and I are very similar. Much more similar than Maximoff to be completely honest. Where were the avengers when your father handed you over to a terrorist organisation? Constantly overlooked, underestimated, seen as nothing but your father’s daughter. I understand, Y/N and I can help you if you let me help you.

- I ... - she faltered her response, slightly lowering down her gun. - You can really help me?

- I know more about magic than everyone else, Y/N. I can train you, I can help you more than SWORD or Wanda Maximoff will ever help. I can even give you what you want the most. Barnes, a regular family, everything but a SHIELD recruit. A regular citizen and all I want is for you to give me my regular family.

- I can’t help you, Agatha.

- I don’t mean to cause any harm, Y/N. I’m not the villain, I just want my husband back and only you can give that to me. That’s all I want. It’s a small price to pay for your happiness. I can even take it away, your powers, I can take them away and then you will have what you want. Pretty sure Barnes still has some swimmers and if he doesn’t surely Wanda can get you some kids, she sure did well with getting herself some.

- Y/N! - Wanda’s voice broke through the two woman’s conversation. Agatha smirked, purple eyes replacing her regular blue ones. - Y/N!

- I think you need to make a choice, dear.

taglist: @lookiamtrying

43 notes · View notes

thehoneybeast · 4 years

Text

Reconnecting

Ok sooo.. I have been a little obsessed with this great show and had the inspiration to write and actually finish! a fanfiction because apparently I am n love with a stupid cartoon monkey called Hugo.. so here we go! Maybe some find a little joy in this.

Warnings: mention of death, maybe trauma, stupidly dramatic

Pairing: Hugo/Scarlemange x Reader because why not

Okay a little rant from me first. Spoiler! I couldn't just accept that Hugo dies at the end of the series so I had to come up with a stupid way in which we could save him. This came from the same storyline in which he wouldn't die. If my motivation is big enough, I might continue this, but for now this is all I have. Also, the story is a little straight forward, no gentle start or anything. Enjoy!

He smelled the sweat on your skin, mixed with the earthy note of dirt before he recognised your own scent underneath. He let go, held your head between his hands and smiled widely. Your hair was a mess, dull and mixed with leaves but it held the same beautiful colour that he remembered you with. Your eyes stared at him with confused happiness and he felt his heartbeat quicken. It had taken him years to find you, to finally see you again. You had grown, your features had become more firm and you were confronted with the same sense of astonishment as him. Last time you had stood in front of Hugo, he had been the same hight as you. He always looked a little shy with his rather small frame. Now you stood in front of a mandrill the size of a gorilla, his shoulders broad and hidden underneath a fancy costume of the old France. You could feel the enormous strength in his arms as he held you, the intimidating strength of a mute.However, you couldn't comprehend the fact, that he was alive. After what felt like forever, you finally found a known face and one that you held a special place for in your heart. It brought tears to your eyes, which caused his grin to falter, instantly letting go of your head. "Are you hurt?" the question came out quiet as he let his eyes search your body for any signs of a wound but you just shook your head smiling, wiping your tears away. "I'm so happy to see you are alive-" was all you could say, before a wave of emotions hit you and you let your head sink, ashamed of causing a scene, but he just went to embrace you yet again. "No need to shed tears, you are save now." His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. "Nothing will hurt you as long as you stay with me." You held each other, enjoying the familiar company. When he let go this time, he made a few steps back suddenly filled with energy, spreading his arms. "You are now part of my kingdom! Everyone will know not to touch you, unless they wish to face the strength of my army! " he announced, proudly taking in the view of the humans behind you. He felt his heart flutter as you watched him with big, beautiful eyes.It brought him on a high he hadn't experienced in a long time. He turned around and motioned for you to follow him before he stalked ahead. "Let me show you around!" he more or less ordered and you needed a second to get of the ground and hurry after him. While rushing to his side you couldn't help but notice the people behind you. You didn't recognise them because of their masks but you felt something was off about them. He tangled his arm with yours as soon as you reached him, grinning and leading you through his place. It was way bigger than you would have imagined, overgrown by nature in many places while still holding a sense of luxury. You understood immediately why he had chosen to stay. He was obviously proud of his home and trying to impress you. He had to slow down a little for you to appreciate what he was showing you and it took him a little self control. You were overwhelmed by the new surroundings and even more by him. It was odd seeing your sweet and gentle childhood friend so very proud and outgoing. You felt a little arrogance in the way he acted but you didn't really care for now. Just being around him made you feel younger and filled you with more energy than you had have since the breakdown of the borrow. It was good to see him healthy and all grown up and you really embraced the warmth which whom he met you. His enthusiasm was infectious and while he was rambling about the great meaning behind paintings and decorations, you listened with wide eyes, completely forgetting about your confused feelings and the rush of fear that you had experienced before you had recognised each other. You didn't think of questioning anything over your joy, until you reentered the great hall you started from. He lead you to his grant piano which was placed on a platform in the middle of the room and as he talked about the music he adored, your gaze shifted trough the room, coming to a halt at the group of humans standing perfectly still. You tilted your head irritated. "What's the deal with them?" You asked Hugo who had paid no mind to your audience. You realised that you didn't really ask yourself why none of them had introduced themselves or even bothered to say anything when you were brought in or after that. Were they even real beings? "They're my peasants." He answered nonchalantly sitting down, starting to play a walz on his piano. You looked at him in confusion, wanted to ask him where they came from, what was going on but as he snapped his fingers, you began to understand. To your horror, the motionless people started to dance. They didn't speak, they didn't laugh or sway mindlessly, they danced as if hanging on strings, as if programmed just to dance. Hugo laughed while you could only stare, slowly processing what was going on. You remembered why they had kept him in a cage back then. You remembered when your father had told you to stay away. It was his sweat. That hypnotic influence it had on primates. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the easy feeling of home coming disappearing behind the maniacal laughter of your friend. There was nothing odd about the humans dancing in front of you, it was Hugo. He had changed more drastically than you could ever have imagined. He continued his play joyfully, not taking notice of your uneasy expression until you carefully put your hand on his, stopping his movements. Confused and angry he glared at you before he saw the way you looked at him. You tried to smile, suddenly scared of angering him. "You play beautifully, but please don't make them dance." Your voice was gentle but he must have heard the trembling underneath. His grin grew back, this time more evil than welcoming. "Oh you don't have to pity them. This is one of the only things they're good for anyways." You didn't know what to say. There was hatred in his eyes and you bit your lip nervously, looking back and forth between him and the people. His hands were still hovering over the keys of his instrument, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for a reaction. "Please don't-" was all you could mutter before he turned to the people and waved one of them to step closer. Hugo watched with amusement as the man walked over, a wide and unsettling smile on his face. He enjoyed it. When the stranger arrived Hugo snapped his fingers again and the poor guy started to uncontrollable stepdance. You made a step back, feeling sick watching him. "You don't have to worry, you are my guest. As long as you follow my orders willingly, there is no need for this." He motioned at the man his voice filled with pride and authority. You stared at him. Your breath became short and your heartbeat fastened. He watched his peasant do as he pleased. He didn't know why he had felt the need to demonstrate you his ways, after all you had never made any attempt of running yet, but as soon as he had seen your curiosity for the other humans, he had felt anger. You had been separated for so long, he didn't know you anymore. Maybe you had never missed him, maybe even forgotten him until now, maybe you had even become like them. There was jealousy in his veins but he chose to not let you see that. After all, who knew what your motivation was at this point. It wouldn't hurt to show you, who was in control. Better to introduce you to his new world in a way that you wouldn't dare to question him. When he turned to you again you had brought quite a distance between the both of you, your body reacting to the fear rushing trough your bones. You had lived quite some time out there, all alone. Your instincts had saved you most of the time but you felt your scars tingle as they reminded you of the times it had not. He could do the same to you. You felt hatred crawl into your eyes and run over your cheeks. The hate wasn't directed onto him but rather onto the entire world. This world had made him like this. Your heart ached, wondering what had scarred him so deeply that he felt the need to put others under his control. You realised, that he had most likely wanted to put you under his spell as well until he had recognised you. Hugo, or what he would soon teach you to call him, Scarlemange, watched the war behind your eyes. He managed to look unscathed on the outside while inside he was slightly scared of the decision you would come to. He wouldn't let you leave, he couldn't loose sight of you again. Part of him regretted his little show but he reminded himself, that he could not just trust you to know your place. He wouldn't put you with the rest of them, maybe even let you wander around once he trusted you enough to not try and flee. He yearned for your acceptance of the situation so he could try and rebuild the connection the two of you had shared so many yeara ago. You wiped the remains of your tears of stress away with the hem of your dirty clothes and he instantly wished that you hadn't. It made you look more like a dirty dog and he only realised now how wore down you were. You had been a little chubby as a child, not overweight but a healthy amount of flesh on your bones. It occurred to him, that you might have had to fight for food, maybe falling asleep hungry sometimes. Over all, your body looked strained, he could see muscles under your skin but also bone where he didn't want to see it. He felt himself getting softer by watching you, now more alert than you had been before. "How about something to eat? If you're done throwing a tantrum. " His voice was weaker than he had intended it to be, but he couldn't help himself but worry about you. Of course you weren't allowed to know about that, after all you could use it to your advantage. Your shoulders were stiff your eyes narrowed, trying to see the intention in his eyes. It was sad how quickly the atmosphere around the two of you had changed. It now seemed like a short dream where things had been how they used to be. The reality had hit you hard and brought your mind back into a state of survival. You stood a few feet away from the monkey, meeting his glare unimpressed. "Well?" he tried again, his tone now harsher and more demanding for an answer. You sighed heavily before nodding scared that your voice might break if you tried to speak. He smiled grimly offering you with a gesture to walk beside him. Of course it wasn't really an offer and rather a demand. You looked up at him more disappointed than angry and let him lead you to the other hall where you had come along the giant table. You felt naive for hoping he would be the same and you struggled to decide whether it made you want to leave or stay. He clearly had lived through something that made him like this but you weren't sure if you had the strength to put up with his very dangerous new side in order to help him find back to a healthier view on the world. You had been through quite a lot yourself and thought it unfair that you would have to suppress your own happiness and safety for his sake. So far he hadn't put you in too much of an inconvenience but rather just scared or threatened you. To your surprise he didn't lead you to the dining room but made his way up the stairs to the second floor. It occurred to you, that you could probably run from him, try to escape but you decided that if you were going to do it he shouldn't be expecting it, what he was surely doing at the moment. Instead you followed him slowly, taking in the view of the room while getting higher. Your hands slid carefully over the old wooden stairhandle and you noticed a bitter feeling of hope in your heart when you turned your head in Hugos direction. He was waiting at the end of the stairs and smiled. It was almost charming if you just could have brought yourself to forget what just had happened. "You will change before we eat. I will not have you smelling like a wild animal while dining." He didn't leave room for an argument but you didn't feel like you had the strength for that anyway. "There is a bathtub in there, ready to be used. It was meant for me but you can have it. Clothes will be brought in when you're done." He already headed off, leaving you in the doorway of a lightly lit room which was filled with the smell of flowers. "I hope you don't expect me to wear something like you..?" You asked, facing the big old bath but he was already back on the stairs throwing you a confident grin before he stalked away while you slowly entered the bathroom. A warm bath sounded rather appealing and would maybe help you relax again. The water was hot, a comforting feeling on your skin and even though you couldn't stop feeling sad about your experience with Hugo, you did enjoy the feeling of the dirt getting of your skin. You washed your hair, your face and looked carefully at yourself when you were done. There were scars you didn't recognise and others which causes you would never forget. There was a big towel hanging at the wall, big red and fluffy and you curled yourself up in it. A content sigh passed your lips when you sat down on one of the puff chairs which stood around the room. You didn't want to face him again. Not when he had become like a possessive tyrant. You burried your head under the towel and thought back to a better time. A safer time. You jumped slightly when the door opened before a big wooden box was pushed into the room and the door closed again before you could see who had brought it in. You stared a few moments, debating whether you should play along or not. Sighing yet again, you slowly walked over and lifted the top so you could take a look at the the fabric inside. Of course he hadn't brought you normal, simple clothes. No, it had to be the same old school fashion that him and his 'peasants' were dressed in. You rummaged through the box on the search for something more comfortable than that and found a rather normal looking leggings with ruffles on the outside but decided it was good enough. For your upper body you took one of the white dress shirts two or three sizes too big so that it would hang loosely over you chest. As happy as you could be with your outfit you walked over to the mirror again and took in your form. Your scars were hidden, your hair clean and after you had found a brush and forced it into a more presentable look, you were surprised how good it felt to feel like a human again. The door was opened again, this time all the way and a gorilla peeked inside his hand covering his eyes while he asked in a deep voice: "If you're dressed, please come outside. Scarlemange awaits you. " You frowned hearing that name. You had nearly forgotten who it was you were brought to. Not Hugo, whom you had mistaken him for but the monster you had heard many mutants talk about. After debating with yourself if you should insist on calling him Hugo, you made the decision that it wouldn't bring you anything good to be stubborn right now. So instead you answered with a gentle "I'm coming!" and followed the gorilla out the door. He brought you to the Hall as expected and upon seeing the giant table, now with plates of fruits and fancy dishes, you felt your body scream for food. Hardly keeping yourself from rushing over to eat with your bare hands, the gorilla seated you on the other side of the long wooden table so now you were facing Hu- no, Scarlemange a few feet away. You could see his eyebrows narrow as he took in your new look. "You could've picked something fancier." He scolded loudly to reach your ears over the distance but you just shrugged your shoulders. "I didn't feel like dressing up. Comfortable is better than pretty." You answered nonchalantly, trying not to stare at the meals in front of you. Scarlemange noticed the hunger in your eyes and laughed slightly to himself. "Please, be my guest and treat yourself." He motioned over the table and that was all the invitation you needed. You devoured every bite you took, enjoying the feeling of your stomach being filled to the brim. When you were done, your belly hurt a little but you felt happy and content. Sighing you leaned against the back of your chair. Scarlemange, who was used to eat regularly, took his time, eating with elegance and you couldn't help but smile over the way he was so serious about looking pretty while eating. You had grown a little tired but also braver. Deciding that you didn't want to scream for him to hear you, you eased out of your chair and made your way over to his end of the table. He stopped in his movement watching you through squinted eyes. You reached the chair to his left, pulled it out and sat down, smiling sheepishly at him. "So now you aren't scared of me anymore?" he asked bitterly and you rested your head on your hand, still looking at him. "Surely you understand why I am a little cautious after your little show off with that man. You did it to scare me, didn't you? But you are rather nice to me. You let me clean myself, you feed me. You also tried to intimidate me. I'm not quite sure what you want with me, but I'm willing to give you your time to express it." He raised his eyebrows unimpressed and continued eating while you watched him closely. He had earned some scars himself. Tho they made his colourful face even more interesting. You hummed to yourself as you took your time taking each of them in, wondering what may have caused them. He looked older, more masculine. "You've become rather handsome." It left your mouth without intention and as you noticed what you had said, heat crawled into your cheeks. To your surprise he just laughed evily and glared at you. "What, do you think flattery will make it easier for you to fool me?" There was mistrust and anger in his eyes and you realised that he didn't believe you, which frustrated you. "Nah, I think a poor peasant like me couldn't fool a majesty like you, since you are oh so great and scary!" You huffed angrily. Your anger reflected in his eyes and you took a deep breath, trying to calm the situation. "Seriously. Even though I don't like these clothes on me, they do look good on you. It fits the colour of your fur." He just stared at you, now more confused than angry, which made you continue. "You found your theme and it compliments your personality. I'm just being honest here." You saw his look shifting uneasy and knew that you had flattered him, probably the first to do so in a long time. Maybe now he would answer some questions. "Look Scarlemange, I don't know what happened. I'm pretty sure you don't want to tell me so I'll leave it alone. But I will not just sit and wait, so please do tell me what you are planning to do with me. Am I your prisoner? Your pet? Will you kick me out when you are bored by me? I just want to know what to expect. " For a moment he was quiet. He put his dish aside, keeping his eyes on you, his glare unbroken. "You are a human. You belong to me. I will not let you leave." That was what you had expected but it made you shiver, once he had said it out loud. "However," he continued in a generous tone, ignoring your nervous gulp, "you have the privilege of good memories being connected to you so I will give you the chance of earning the right to keep your own will, just like I told you before. Don't misbehave. Don't betray me or you are going to join the others of your kind in serving me." His tone was firm and emotionless. He wanted to stand up but you stopped him. Your grip wasn't harsh but he stopped in his movements. He wasn't angry with you this time, just wanted for you to say what you had to. "I understand that." You looked down at your hand now covering his and had to fight the urge of getting too upset. "But you get that it is a lot to ask to just demand that I stay here, right? You treat this as if it should be obvious when I have hardly even told you how I feel about it. This has been a very onesided interaction so far and as much as I am happy to see you, we can't go back to being friends if you're not willing to listen as well. You changed your name, your personality. I as well have nice memories of us two playing silly games and spending our time with each other, but the way we lived then was different. Our world was different. We changed a lot. You are not the shy little body I had befriended back than and neither am I the stupid little child." You raised your gaze, afraid of his reaction but he didn't seem upset yet. Instead he took his hand back from yours and talked in a voice like he was teaching a child. "You are right, we lived in another world back than." Now he raised from his chair entirely, walked a few steps and turned his back to you, locking his hands behind his back. "I realised that the world wasn't as we saw it. I had to wake up from that fantasy world of a 'family' and did what helped me survive in the real world." His voice had become spiteful and you felt pain in the words he said. You felt you chest tighten and stood up as well. "Yes, this world is scarier than in the burrow." You interrupted "I had to face that fact as well when the burrow was gone. The life on the surface is hard. It left it's scars on me too." He looked over his shoulder at you, doubt and mistrust in his eyes. " Why did you leave the new place then? If you think the surface is so scary, why come out? To explore it? Are you telling me you had no choice? Do you think I am that stupid?"He stopped in his rant when he saw your eyes go wide. "New..New home? What are you talking about?" He saw genuine shock in your eyes and he was taken a little aback by that. "The place you flet to? The place you all took of to when the burrow broke down?!" There was a heavy silence between the two of you before you could talk again. "So.. That is why I never found anyone after that. I thought-" you stopped yourself sinking back into your chair. Scarlemange squinted his eyes watching you, trying to decide whether you were lying or not. Your performance was pretty believable. "Why would they leave you behind?" he questioned and your heart ached thinking back to that day. You didn't have anyone to talk to about what happened that day so you chose to push it into the back of your head, ready to be forgotten. The trauma would have prevented you from surviving, you didn't have the room for a breakdown when you had to be on guard all the time. But now someone wanted to know, someone knew what had happened and the memories flooded back. You burried your face in your hands, shaking it, trying to stop the emotions from overrunning you. It had been suppressed for so long. Scarlemanges face softened, seeing you react so emotionally. Maybe you were telling the truth. He came closer, not really knowing how to calm you down but also wanting to know. "Please, tell me what happened. " His voice was gentle and more quite than before while he slowly placed a hand on your back. Your words were small, chaotic and he had trouble understanding what you said. "The day the burrow broke down..My father- He was hit by the collapsing roof... The bricks burried him underneath them and he... He was still alive. I couldn't reach him.. Everyone rushed to leave, they were all in panic.." You paused to take some heavy breaths and he felt your body beginning to shake. "I couldn't leave him.. Some tried make me leave with them but... I stayed with him for two days until.. Until he stopped answering me-" You hick uped and your throat was too thick to continue. Images of the chaos flashed into your inner view and the sickening screams of your father. Your whole body started to stiffen up and when Scarl reached over your shoulders for comfort, you turned and clung to him for dear life, crying heavily into his shoulder.There you were again, hugging him, now out of grief instead of joy. He didn't know what to do so he just let your small frame cling to him, carefully wrapping his arms around you. He could only listen to half of your story, though he felt that the rest was rather easy to guess. You had stayed behind for your father and once he was dead you had been left alone with nowhere to go. Even if they had noticed you missing, they most likely assumed that you had been killed like your father. No one would have risked it to come back and search for someone presumed dead. He felt guilt for having brought back those memories and anger as he realised that you as well had been left behind. You must have felt even more lost and scared than him, he at least had been somewhat capable of defending himself. He vowed to himself to try and trust you a little more, especially now that you shown yourself so vulnerable to him. It was the first time that He had embraced someone since his life in the burrow and the fact that it was you filled him with gratitude. Maybe there was a chance for a new friendship between the two of you. If only you were going to understand that he was in control. After all, Hugo was no more. He kept you in his arms until your body started to calm down. The shaking disappeared and your breathing softened. As he looked at your face he saw your red puffy eyes and nose, tears still running down your cheeks. It made his heart ached that you searched for comfort in him and he tried to accept the fact that he wouldn't be scaring you any more. You looked much more exhausted and weak than when you had entered his home this morning and he felt a biting feeling that it was partly his fault. He decided that you had been through enough for today. Not saying a word he heaved you into his arms bridal style and passed through the dining room, up the stairs and to the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. When his servants, the mutated ones, looked at him questioningly, he motioned for them to leave. You didn't move much, your head was hurting and everything felt dull and heavy. Only the heartbeat against your ear and the warmth of his body gave you comfort and when he moved to lay you down and leave you whined like a child. He had put you down onto his king sized bed with comfortable red sheets. "I think you deserve some rest, don't you think?" His eyes were back to the way they had been when he first recognised you. There was no fear, anger or mistrust, only worry and warmth. You reached out for him, taking his hand and pulling it in. It felt mesmerising to be wanted by your side but he looked at You uncertain. "Are you sure? I take up a bit of space." The grin on his face was gentle and you felt a piece of hope return to your heart when you nodded. "I don't want to be alone. I think I have enough of that for quite some time " your smile was sad and your eyelids felt incredibly heavy. He gently pulled the blanket up to your neck and walked to the other side of the bed. He thought back to the Times you two had have sleepovers where you would stay in his little room when your father would allow it. It were some of his most treasured memories, innocent and pure. To think that he could relive them someday was incomprehensible to him. When he layed down you were already at his side again, having turned around under the sheets and cuddled up to him, your body heat welcoming him under the sheets. He felt blood rush to his face and he was glad that your eyes were closed while he returned the embrace once again. No, he wasn't reliving memories, this was different. There was something new within him and he realised that maybe, just maybe he didn't only want a friendship anymore. He listened to your peaceful breathing and found himself relax in your arms, a feeling of comfort and home that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

#scarlemagne x reader #hugo x Reader #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts

79 notes · View notes

tenacityreturns · 3 years

Note

momoi shifts , carefully drinking her bubble tea. today , she was waiting on sakurai to show up for their bi-weekly shopping trip and had seen kagami out of the side of her eye so of course, she had to say hi! leaning back in her chair , she gets a flash of lunch with aomine wondering about fate. " hey , kagamin, " she starts, " do you believe in fate ? " / from momoi <3

@peachmuses

kagami is watching a tall girl across the mall cafeteria demonstrate, without a ball, how to shoot a basketball. he assumes it's a basketball. she's laughing as her friends have a go, none of them caring that they're in public and everybody could see them. one friend says something as she puts her wrists together, it looks like she's talking about volleyball or something. he wonders what it's like to have friends with different hobbies. he hasn't given it much thought since finding a love for basketball, but he'd still be a loner if not for that. not everyone is as out-going and friendly as tatsuya used to be. the girls sit down at their table again, and he loses interest. he wonders, briefly as the thought is soon interrupted, whether putting all his chips into basketball is the right idea. maybe he should join a cooking class or... run a cooking class ( inspired by present company ).

“kagamin,” he repeats with a grumble as she continues speaking, more to himself than to her. what is it with these people and giving out nicknames like it’s christmas! all these generation of miracles do it, just about. it’s so annoying! kagamin, kagamicchi, bakagami, even! will they ever stop?

but this thought, too, is interrupted before he can make a scene with it. kagami’s got an expressive face, and every emotion sparked by the random question is displayed clear as day. surprise: raised eyebrows, opening mouth as if to speak but with nothing yet to say; incredulousness: squinting eyes, now a frown; contemplative: downturned lips tightened into a line, averting his gaze. does he? why the hell is she even asking? without having given it much thought, he sighs.

“where the hell did that come from?”

“nowhere,” she smiles, then taps her chin with her index finger, “it’s just, dai--- aomine-kun brought it up the other day, and i haven’t gotten it out of my mind.”

“dai-chan brought it up?” kagami deadpans, “no way did that idiot come up with a thing like that.”

“oh, but he did! he’s impulsive, which sometimes comes across as inconsiderate or inattentive, yes, but he thinks about these things a lot.”

“what did he say?” he sits back in his seat, careful not to kick her. kagami folds his arms across his chest.

momoi lowers her drink and hides behind her hand, suddenly acting all embarrassed. “maybe i shouldn’t say!”

“now you have to, saying a thing like that! i won’t tell anyone.”

“he said-- he said!” she’s playing up her embarrassment, right? there’s nothing dai---- aomine could have said that would make her go all... gooey... right? unless-- he didn’t confess to her or anything? no...

“momoi,” he grumbles, “come on.”

“very well!” she sets her drink directly in-front of her on the table, frowning seriously. her hands grip the edge for a moment before lacing together. when she looks up at him, her eyes are cold and calculating -- but gentle. “i trust you, so i’ll tell you. aomine-kun believes that it’s fate that you met.”

here comes the incredulousness again. it distorts his face into a squinting grimace. “he didn’t say that.”

“he did.”

“about me?”

“about you,” her hands release and then fold again.

ah. his cheeks are the first to betray him. in fact, his blush is currently his only reaction, besides downturned lips. does he have any thoughts right now? kagami is short-circuiting. momoi’s eyes are putting him off, so he stares out the window finds nothing easier to look at there. fate, huh? fate. alright. he’s got to say something. or leave. fate. stupid idiot aomine said he thinks it’s fate that they met? what the fuck? what the fuck! alright. alright. alright! alright? alright. alright! that’s a song, right? an american song or something, it’s in english at least. there’s a hook he’s got stuck in his mind now. it’s something else to think about, anyway. alright, now fellas! what’s cooler than being---

“please don’t be upset with aomine-kun,” she says quietly, “or bring it up. he’ll only deny it.”

“no-- no, i--” he sits forward, “i’m not upset. i told you i wasn’t gonna tell anyone so i won’t. he really said that about me? specifically?”

“yes! how you met us at exactly the right point in time, how you happened to join tetsu-kun’s team, the best you could have met first. wouldn’t things be different if you had joined some other team?”

“this is a lot to think about,” he rubs his temple, “you mean aomine thinks like this all the time?”

“well, not all the time,” she reaches into her bag to bring out her pink phone, and replies to a text as she speaks, “but he does talk about you a lot.”

“me? what’s he say?”

“mmm,” she looks around the room searchingly, tentatively standing. no, don’t leave now! what kind of fate is this?! in his desperation at the fleeting moment of opportunity, kagami also stands. as he does, he notices a guy a full head and shoulders taller than most other people around them. speak of the devil! somehow, seeing aomine’s frown dissipate into a smile ( even if that does turn into a smirk ) makes everything worse for once. “oh! what’s he doing here? i guess i’ll see you around, kagamin!”

“huh?!” he feels like he’s being left behind, and stands helplessly as she runs over and greets her friends. sakurai says something, momoi says something, and aomine walks straight passed them. kagami stands straighter, shuts his gaping mouth, and returns to that downturned look of embarrassment.

“oho, what did she say to you?” he’s smirking, but he’d probably just leave if he knew the truth! kagami’s resolved to not say it, of course, but it’s too much to look at him right now! kagami picks up his backpack and pulls it over one shoulder. when aomine repeats his question, it’s with a touch of horror in his voice. “what did she say to you?”

“nothing!” kagami blurts, “nothing. you--- uh, you’re not hanging out with them today?”

“maybe i will,” aomine takes a step away, like sand through fingers, “you’re being weird.”

“uh-- yeah,” his brain is in overdrive right now. “i am? sorry.”

“look, half what she says is bullshit to get a rise outta you. i know it doesn’t look like it, but she likes pushing people’s buttons too.”

“no, no-- i don’t think it was like that.”

“okay,” he turns and starts off in the direction of the others. he must have been able to sense that kagami was off ( no, you fucking dumbass, it’s literally so obvious that you’re uncomfortable and don’t know up from down. cute to think you were being subtle though ? ).

well, that’s no good! if aomine leaves now, kagami doesn’t know how long it will be until he can face him again! better to conquer the fears and awkwardness and butterflies -- however the fuck he’s feeling right now -- and grab the bull by its horns! or, in this case, to catch up and throw his arm around aomine’s shoulders, steering him away.

“no way, you think you can get outta playing a one-on-one with me?” kagami’s trying to be normal, but aomine’s scrutinising glare is a lot to deal with. he gives his best toothy smile, and gets shrugged off but not in the don’t touch me, you weirdo kind of way. hopefully?

“maybe losing will knock some sense into you,” aomine grumbles. “wait, you don’t even have a basketball?”

“uh,” yep, hadn’t thought of that. “i could just buy one-- ?”

“nah, let’s go to the arcade and i’ll whop your ass in there.”

kagami does his best to bury the whole fate concept, which has clearly done little else but freak him out, as they make their way to the arcade. he doesn’t have it in him to talk shit, though, so there’s no reply to that last comment. kagami isn’t sure if he believes in fate, but it’s weird knowing someone else thinks that about him. he’s got butterflies he can’t shake, and he finds himself fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. like that would help anything! instead, he balls up his fists and shoves them into his hoodie pockets. just as he can feel a frown forming, he glances at aomine and notices the familiar red hoodie. kagami’s red hoodie. just as kagami is wearing one of aomine’s. what. that’s--- that’s kind of funny, actually. they could just swap back right now, and that would probably be the normal thing to do, but it looks so good on aomine. kagami’s smiling before he can do anything about it.

“what the fuck are you looking at?” aomine’s alarmed when he spots the change, and instead of sounding insulting or argumentative, his question just sounds surprised.

“nothing, dumbass!” kagami elbows him, giving in just a little. aomine hits him straight back, even as kagami’s continuing. “that’s my hoodie, is all.”

“yeah, so what? you’re wearing mine.”

“you think i don’t know that?”

“you ain’t getting it back, pal,” aomine looks away again, with the excuse of looking around the arcade as they walk inside.

finally, kagami pulls his eyes away. what is it aomine talks about when kagami isn’t around? is it his cooking? his basketball? what does he think of him? usually, kagami doesn’t care-- or at least, he pretends not to. and he cares a little bit about how aomine feels about him... naturally, his eyes settle on the basketball hoops in the corner and he grabs aomine’s arm to drag him over. aomine shrugs him off again.

“what the-- oh kagami,” it’s a groan, but aomine’s smiling. “you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“loser buys the next game!”

“better get your money ready, bakagami.”

“like hell i will!”

he isn’t thinking about it anymore, but maybe it’s fate that kagami noticed that they’re wearing each other’s hoodies at such a crucial moment. it frees him up, somehow, to enter the present. soon enough, fate is completely out of his head, and he’s playing the hoop shooting game backwards because the two of them can’t help but show off. then they’ll play racing, kagami pays, and a platform game, and then kagami’s talking about the arcade he used to go to as a little kid with tatsuya. then they’re talking about something else. something else. nothing and everything. maybe it’s fate that he wasn’t carrying a basketball today, so that they could have whatever today had turned into.

#answered.#peachmuses #drabbles.#aokaga.#aonon.#ok this is my favourite thing ever #i always go way over the top with these and this time it comes with 3 DIFFERENT CHARACTERS' ICONS SDHSJDHJSDJHSD #anyway i really played all my cards #fate is a strange mistress and tonight her name is robyn #JSDHJSHDJHSD

11 notes · View notes

missfangirll · 4 years

Note

Congrats on the followers!!! If I may ask, Jealousy, fluff, for Weilan? (if you're inspired of course!!!!)

Thank you for your ask 🥰

You didn’t specify who exactly is the jealous one, so I decided Shen Wei has to suffer 😈

But I tried to make it as fluffy as possible 😊🥰

Title is taken from the song "Honey, I'm good" by Andy Grammer.

I will stay true

It had all started with a hand.

With Zhao Yunlan’s hand, to be exact.

To be even more exact, with Zhao Yunlan’s hand on the back of a witness.

The hand in question had lingered there for exactly seventeen seconds – not that Shen Wei counted – and had proved to be a source of rising blood pressure for Shen Wei.

Why, or rather why now, he couldn’t tell. Zhao Yunlan had a habit of touching people, especially ones he was close to, which included an uncomfortably large number in Shen Wei’s opinion.

Not that he had an opinion about Zhao Yunlan touching people. Not at all.

So, the hand on the witness’ back, clearly meant to calm the person, had the exact opposite effect on Shen Wei, but before he could analyze his feelings further, Hei Pao Shi had to portal the suspect away, the incident leaving him with a slightly uneasy feeling for the rest of the day.

It had started with a hand and only worsened from there.

He had never before noticed just how comfortable Zhao Yunlan was with physical contact that wasn’t directed at Shen Wei himself. He half lay on Da Qing to look at a file, threw an arm around Lao Chu’s shoulder, put Xiao Guo in a headlock and ruffled Lin Jing’s hair. (He even made an attempt to pinch Zhu Hong’s cheek but aborted that mission as soon as he saw her face.)

It is his team, Shen Wei told himself, of course he would be comfortable with them. But Zhao Yunlan didn’t shy away from invading anyone’s personal space. Eventually, when he was flirting with a female police officer at a crime scene, Shen Wei had to violently stomp down the urge to walk over and kiss him senseless, just to make a point. Instead, he hid further in his hood and closed his eyes, willing his heart to resume beating.

Shen Wei very deliberately made a point to not examine the reason for his feelings, well aware that the answer to that lay in a lollipop and a promise made a lifetime ago. So he swallowed the bile in his throat and smiled, just like Kunlun had asked him to. Every time Zhao Yunlan smiled at a waiter, flirted with a secretary or gave a friend’s shoulder a jovial pat, he felt his stomach knot painfully and had to lower his gaze as not to let his pain show on his face.

Zhao Yunlan didn’t stop touching him, on the contrary, but Shen Wei found it increasingly strenuous to keep his body from responding too obviously. He wanted Zhao Yunlan to touch him, wanted to be the only one to have that privilege, and the resolve it took not to act on that desire left him feeling exhausted.

Kunlun had promised him a future, but he couldn’t be sure if this was it, if, this time, he was supposed to be the one asking for a smile, or if doing so would ruin everything. So he waited, and loved Zhao Yunlan in darkness and silence.

He reached his breaking point on a Tuesday.

On Friday evening, at the time Zhao Yunlan would normally return home, Shen Wei heard two voices in the corridor, one definitely Zhao Yunlan’s, the other he didn’t recognize. Intent not to eavesdrop, he retreated to his bedroom, which was farthest away from the door. He tried to occupy his mind by reading in a scientific journal, but gave up after he had read the same line a third time and still didn't know what the text was about.

A day later he was on his way to Zhao Yunlan’s apartment and had just opened the door, when he stopped abruptly. Across the hall stood a woman in her early twenties, long black hair and a very short dress, about to ring the doorbell. When Zhao Yunlan’s door opened, Shen Wei made a hasty retreat and silently closed his.

On Sunday, he didn’t even bother to go over, having seen the second pair of shoes on the doormat.

Thus, when Da Qing called him on Monday morning to tell him he was needed for a case, he felt like he hadn’t slept the whole weekend and was in an appropriately bad mood. After he had portaled in, he stubbornly focused on the crime scene photos, dodging Zhao Yunlan’s attempts to throw an arm around his shoulder or pat his knee, much to the other’s astonishment. He excused himself with urgent university matters only minutes later, leaving a confused Zhao Yunlan behind when he hastily portaled out. The rest of the day he hid in his office, ignoring his churning stomach and his phone, which had started to buzz in his desk drawer shortly after he had tossed it there.

He couldn’t face Zhao Yunlan, not even in a text message. He was behaving irrationally, he knew that, but seeing Zhao Yunlan – his Yunlan, his Kunlun – with other people made his insides freeze and his heart ache. No matter how much he reminded himself of the fact that Zhao Yunlan wasn’t his, he couldn’t ignore the pain that seared through him since he had seen… Well, he hadn’t seen anything, but his imagination insisted on presenting him a whole lot of possibilities he would have preferred not to consider.

He wanted Zhao Yunlan to be happy, he really did, but his soul screamed in agony when he realized that happiness might not include him.

When he finally left his office, he didn’t bother to take the phone. He didn’t know what to answer anyway. Later at home, after having stared at his dinner for an hour, he went to bed, tossing and turning restlessly.

He startled out of bed when he heard a rather insistent knock on his door. His alarm clock showed almost six in the morning, which meant he had slept for two hours. Drowsy and bleary-eyed he made his way to the entrance, hoping it wouldn’t be an emergency at the SID.

Outside the door, in shorts, a ratty t-shirt and without shoes, stood Yunlan, a sheepish smile on his face.

Shen Wei was suddenly wide awake. “Have you locked yourself outside? I can open your door if you –”

He was interrupted when Zhao Yunlan made a step into his apartment, suddenly standing very close to Shen Wei, giving him a considering look.

“I wanted to see you”, he said slowly, not breaking eye contact. Shen Wei closed his mouth and stepped back, motioning him in. When Zhao Yunlan sat down in the center of the living room couch, Shen Wei encountered another dilemma: sitting on the sofa would bring him very close to Yunlan, while choosing the armchair next to it would seem strange, given their past closeness. He swallowed and sat down on the armchair.

Zhao Yunlan had watched his movements and now fixed him with a gaze that Shen Wei couldn’t interpret. He shivered unconsciously and the other’s eyebrow shot up.

“Are you alright, Hei Lao Ge?”

Shen Wei winced at the title and stared at his lap. “Why wouldn’t I be? I am perfectly fine, thank you, Zhao Yunlan.”

When he felt a hand on his knee, he looked up, and the look in the other’s eyes made his breath catch. They were burning hot with emotion, dark and intense. Shen Wei began to understand how mice must feel when a snake stared down at them. He swallowed again and tried a reassuring smile, which apparently had the opposite effect, because the grip on his knee tightened.

“Shen Wei.” Zhao Yunlan tried again. “Talk to me. Are you mad at me? Have I said something stupid again? I swear, when I said you ate all –“

“I am not mad.”

Zhao Yunlan blinked at the sudden outburst and raised his eyebrow again. “Well, maybe you’re not mad at me, but clearly something is wrong.” He fixed Shen Wei. “Talk to me.”

Shen Wei closed his eyes and stayed silent. He didn’t trust his face at the moment, much less his voice.

“Xiao Wei.” A hand on his cheek, in addition to that name, made him shrink back. His resolution was crumbling and the last thing he needed now was Yunlan touching him.

Touching him like he had… Like he did with… His stomach turned again at the thought and he opened his eyes, sitting up straighter.

“Nothing is wrong, Zhao Yunlan, I assure you. You can go back to your apartment now. It is quite early.” He inhaled shakily. “I assume you are missed there.” Before he could stop himself, the sentence had made its way out, and Zhao Yunlan’s other eyebrow joined the first. He didn’t answer, just gave him such a scrutinizing look that Shen Wei had to force himself not to recede further into the chair.

After what felt like another ten thousand years, Zhao Yunlan moved. First, Shen Wei thought he really would leave, but then he took a step closer and in a fluent motion, knelt in front of Shen Wei’s armchair between his legs. Shen Wei swallowed hard.

Zhao Yunlan placed one hand on his thigh, the other reached up to cup his cheek.

“Xiao Wei”, he said again, with a warmth and tenderness Shen Wei only hazily remembered from a different life. “Xiao Wei, what do you think I did last weekend?”

Shen Wei refused to answer and only shook his head miserably.

Zhao Yunlan sighed fondly and caressed his cheek, smiling at him. “I am guessing you saw Wen Yao and Bai Yukun last weekend?” It wasn’t a question and Shen Wei didn’t answer. “Well, I didn’t sleep with either of them, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” He shrugged, and Shen Wei found himself coughing violently, staring wide-eyed at the other man. “I didn’t… I don’t…”, he wheezed.

Zhao Yunlan chuckled softly, stroking a thumb over Shen Wei’s cheekbone, and it took all of his crumbling self-control not to lean into the touch. The other man continued, sounding slightly amused. “They are Dixingren, Shen Wei. Friends of Zhu Hong.” He gave Shen Wei a meaningful look. “I asked them to tell me more about Dixing. Its history and traditions and stuff. Lao Wen is a historian, I believe you met him at the conference last month. Amazing you didn’t recognize him.” Shen Wei shrank into his chair. “Oh”, he managed.

“Yeah, and A-Kun is a wedding planner.”

Shen Wei suddenly had the very peculiar feeling of all oxygen leaving the room.

“A... wedding… planner…”, he squeezed out, “Why would….” He couldn’t finish that question, he really didn’t want to know.

Zhao Yunlan grinned at him, seemingly unfazed by his predicament. “I asked her about Dixing traditions because I wanted to ask you out, stupid.”

Oh.

Shen Wei’s brain was still busy processing that information, when Zhao Yunlan leaned in and kissed him. He tasted of toothpaste and home, and Shen Wei couldn’t suppress a sigh. He leaned into the kiss, trailing the tip of his tongue over Yunlan’s lips and shivered with anticipation when they opened for him. When their tongues met, he closed his eyes and let himself be drawn into the other’s heat.

When they parted, Zhao Yunlan leaned his forehead against Shen Wei’s, breathing heavily, his whole face split into a wide grin. “Xiao Wei”, he said, and caressed the other’s bottom lip with his thumb, “would you go on a date with me?”

#Anonymous #guardian #��魂 guardian #guardian fic #shen wei #zhao yunlan #weilan #fluff #my writing

47 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

Midnight, I’m Not Leaving

full masterlist

Pairings: Biker!Bucky Barnes x female!reader (AU)

Word count: 1,995

Warning: fluff!!!! just a lot of feelings tbh.

Summary: you had your whole life planned out; work hard, move to new york and pursue your dreams... but what happens when a coquettish biker gang leader crossed your path and relentlessly asked you for a date?

a/n: this one’s written for @captain-rogers-beard‘s “Flex Your Writing Muscles” challenge. i was inspired by the prompt “a late night bike ride under the stars” and i’ve been actually thinking of writing about biker!bucky for awhile!! so yeah, it was a perfect coincidence. please leave a like & comment! enjoy!

The crisp breeze felt piercing on your skin, your hair was blowing through all over your face barricading your sight, the soft hum of the engine that you had grown fond of reverberated in your ears, like midnight jazz cruising through the streets of Sunset Boulevard.

Bucky’s sturdy material of leather felt nice against your palm as you inhaled his musky scent, the smell soothed your nerves. But again, Bucky Barnes always soothed your nerves.

You had been dating the town’s most infamous bad boy slash biker gang leader, Bucky Barnes for over two months now. You were a persevering small-town girl who valued your independence and was determined to get out of this mundane place.

You wanted to migrate to the big city, preferably the Empire State, where you can be whoever you want to be, and there’s a seat for you and your big ambitions on the dining table. Not like this small-minded, incommodious small town where everyone seems to have a thing of sticking their noses in places they don’t belong and the most “noble” job you can have is being a waitress.

You didn’t have any desire in fulfilling this small town’s dreams for you by being a waitress but you had to fill in your bank account if you really wanted to leave and run to the big city. So you took a part-time job at a local bakery store, owned by Mrs. Potts, called “Potts’ Boulangerie,” where you get paid quite generously for someone who only works as a part-time waitress.

Life in Islesbury was anything but exciting and extraordinary during most days.

But all that changed since, a rainy afternoon, when the fearsome, James Buchanan Barnes, the leader of the notorious biker gang, “The Howling Commandos.” The bell above the door dinged as Bucky with his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson tried to fit their massive figures into the moderate-sized door that would fit the average people.

Bucky set his foot first as Sam then Steve trailed along. They were soaked with the droplets of rain that were clouding over the tranquility of Iselsbury but they didn’t seem to mind one bit. There was only you at that moment since Wanda wasn’t feeling too well so she worked only for half-day. The shop was a little slow too since it was raining and most people preferred to stay inside, and Wednesdays aren’t exactly the most casual day to stop by at the bakery store.

To say you weren’t a tad intimidated by the sight of these menacing men would be a deceit. You had heard the rumours, the small crimes that they did, the various members that had gone in and out prison, and the bars that they owned and ruled over. But you put on your professional facade anyway, and you did your job.

They immediately sat at the last table in the corner, where Bucky leaned against the window, whilst Sam and Steve sat next to each other at the opposite of his direction. You heard one of them say, “damn, it’s really coming down.”

You carefully walked over to them with your notepad and pencil, and you raise your voice meekly, “can I get you guys anything?” Bucky instantly turned his head and took a good look at you, shamelessly eyed you up and down. “Well, hello there, gorgeous.” Bucky winked.

You were taken aback by his blunt move. The fuck did he just call you? You weren’t an escort who was prying on your next potential client and on your way to seduce him. “Excuse me?” All the civility in you dissolved, your offence was on palpable.

“Whoa, what’s the matter, doll face?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m here to take your order, not to escort you.”

“Calm down, doll. I ain’t saying that at all. I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Well, you better keep your mouth to yourself because I don’t like those nicknames and if you’re not going to make an order, then I suggest you leave.”

“Well, this is a public place, ain’t it? Anyone can be here whenever they want as long as the sign on the door says open.”

He was right. You shouldn’t be rude to a customer, but again, you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk over you. But you tried to regain your composure and tried to act decently again, “fine, what would you like to order, sir?”

“Sir… I like that. I’ll take one cup of espresso, please, darling.” He winked at you and grinned a Cheshire cat smile. “Be cool, he’s a customer. Be cool, he’s a customer. Be cool, he’s a customer.” You reminded yourself. “Just serve his orders and you won’t have to deal with him ever again… At least for today.”

“Alright. What about you?” You directed your attention to Steve and Sam.

“Americano, please.” You noted down Sam’s order. “And you?” You moved to Steve. “Just black ma’am. Thank you.” You noted that down also.

“I’ll be right back with your orders.” You immediately walked away and went back to the kitchen where you were going to make their coffees. Only after a few steps away from them, you heard the faint, yet bold voice of Bucky. “Feisty... Think I like this one.”

Since that fortunate day, Bucky never stopped bothering you, even though you persisted on rejecting him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept on visiting you at the bakery store, annoying you whilst you were busy taking customers’ orders or helping Wanda out in the kitchen. He even went as far as insolently knocking on your door at night whilst you were having a movie night with your parents in the living room.

“What the hell? What are you doing here?!” You spoke in a hushed tone, but you glared at him. How the fuck did Bucky find your resident?

“Wanted to see you, doll. Thought you’d give me a different answer if I had visited you at your place rather than the shop.” He leaned into the frame of the door. Meanwhile, your mother in the background was not making the situation any easier, “who is that, honey?”

“Nobody…”

“What? Is it a false address?”

“Yeah…”

Amidst the turmoil of trying to get rid of Bucky and convincing your mother, you didn’t notice that Bucky was audaciously eyeing you up and down for you were clad in nothing but a white tank top and pyjama shorts with a thin cardigan cloaking you as an outer.

“Never seen you in something so scanty before, you look better like this.” There is that presumptuous smirk again.

You realized he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon for the persistent douche he was, so you shut the door behind you and stepped outside to your porch. “What the hell? You can not just come into my house uninvited! And most importantly, how did you even know where I live?!”

“I have eyes in the sky and ears all over town.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“If you want me to leave, you gotta say yes to a date. Just one date, doll.”

“No.” You resolutely gritted.

“Fine, then I’ll just stand here all night, maybe even flaunt my singing skill and wake the entire neighbourhood, until you say yes.” He started singing a song that you didn’t know, like a drunken teenage boy at a bar. He didn’t even hesitate in turning up his volume and it immediately made you panic.

“Shh! Okay, fine. I’ll go on a date with you. Just please, stop causing a scene. My parents will call the cops on you if they saw you here.”

“Of course, still the uptight rich people, I see.”

“You gotta leave. Now.” You started pushing him, even though he barely moved an inch for he was stronger and bigger than you.

“7 PM, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up on my bike.”

“Okay, go!” You shoved him mildly to get him off your veranda.

He yielded then began moving to where he parked. He hopped on his bike and revived the engine as took one last glance at you, “can’t wait to see you all dressed up for me, doll.” He winked and geared on the asphalt road.

And the rest was history.

And now, here you were, two months later, sitting on the back of his bike, with your chest pressed against his broad back, as he cruised through the open road under the glow of the moon.

You hugged Bucky tighter as he sped up. The feel of his warmth against you relinquished all the burden and the mundanity of the small-town life were omitted.

“Where are we going?” You gritted.

“You’ll see. If I tell you now, it ain’t going to be a surprise.” His tone detonated, trying to overpower the din of the wind.

Typical Bucky. Even after you were his for two months, he was still coming up with inventive ways to impress you. It’s the little things and modest ways he did that pulled you into him like a magnet. The sugarcoated words he effortlessly spoke, the kisses his ingenious lips left on you and the iniquitous way he touched you when you were making passionate love… It captivated you like a firework show.

Bucky took you that night to a secluded hill, in the outskirts of town where there were barely any people passing by. You had snuck out earlier, cautiously not to jolt your parents up as Bucky noiselessly waited for you outside. You felt like recalcitrant teenagers recklessly in love. And maybe you were at that moment.

“Let’s go on a ride tonight, doll. I’ll be here by midnight. Be ready, princess.” He urged you on the phone earlier.

The midnight was besieged by stillness and nothing but the sonances of crickets. Bucky lifted the seat of his bike and retrieved the plaid picnic blanket from inside.

He placed it on the lawn and he laid down with you in his arms. You placed your head on his chest as you curled up to him and fitted your entire height in the blanket.

“Look at those stars…” Bucky pointed at the sprinkled constellation adorning the royal blue sky. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are.” You paused. For a moment there was only the sound of you and Bucky’s slow breathing and steady heartbeat humming in your ear. Then you filled in the silence with the sentimentality of your childhood your mind recalled. It’s really difficult not to open up when you are this close to him.

“When I was a little girl, I used to pretend that those stars would follow me wherever I go like they were my little guardian angels. And whenever I’m sad or afraid, I’d look outside my window and feel safe.”

“You still do that?” He breathed into your hair as he played with some of the strands. He tenderly caressed the back of your head with his indurated fingers that you had memorized every inch of.

“Of course not.” You slightly chuckled in disbelief at his question.

“Good, cause as long as you got me, you don’t ever have to feel sad or afraid again, doll.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s an oath. And I’ve got a lifetime to prove my words to you.”

You thanked your lucky stars that night, as they watched over you and Bucky like the angels taking over the form of flickering stellar in the sky. You always thought you knew where your future was heading and had your plans laid out immaculately in front of you until Bucky came along like a whirlwind sweeping away all your scribbled notes and took your hand to walk through every second with him.

And for the first time in forever, you weren’t rushing to be in another place or calculating your next move. For the first time, you think you were content enough to stay.

293 notes · View notes